For a few seconds I think she’s serious, and I’m actually considering it.

Then she burps wine cooler in my face.

“I’m hungry. Is anyone else hungry? Can we go eat?”

We find a restaurant close by, and I load Violet up on carbs and water so she’s not a sloppy mess.

At some point before the food comes, Randy excuses himself to the bathroom, and Lily follows right after. They come back fifteen minutes later, together. Lily’s cheeks are flushed, and her eyes have that glazed look about them.

Violet points at Randy’s face. “You’ve got vagina in your beard, Balls.”

Randy strokes his beard self-consciously.

“Not possible,” Lily says. “He wasn’t eating at the Vagina Emporium; I was having a snack at the Moody Dick Café.”

The girls burst into a fit of giggles. Randy smirks.

“Is that a euphemism for a blow job?” Lance asks.

“Ding, ding, ding! Give Romance a prize!” Charlene shouts. She needs more water, too.

“I’mma order some cookies for dessert when we get back to our room,” Miller says to Sunny.

There’s more ridiculous giggling.

We get a limo back to the hotel when dinner is over. Lance doesn’t bother coming up to the suite. I almost feel bad, because the rest of us are likely to shower and have sex. I have my doubts Sunny will be doing anything after that aside from sleeping. She looks ready to pass out. I’m sure the rest of us will find a second or third wind.

After a long shower, which includes more sex, Violet and I lie down on the bed, possibly to go to sleep, possibly for another round. She snuggles in and puts her head on my chest.

“I’m so glad you suggested a vacation,” she says.

“You were so hard to convince.”

I draw circles on her shoulder, working my way down her side. She jerks when I hit the sensitive spot by her ribs. Then she sighs as I go lower, to her hip. My phone buzzes in my pants somewhere on the floor. I should’ve turned it off.

“Your mom messaged me again.” I can hear her anxiety.

“Well, we are in Vegas; maybe we should elope.”

Violet lifts her head. “You’re kidding, right?”

I tuck strands of wet hair behind her ear and trace the line of her jaw. “I don’t have to be.”

“I don’t have a dress.”

I follow the contour of her bottom lip with my thumb. Jesus, I love this woman. “We can buy you one.”

“You’re serious?”

I kiss her softly, not inviting any tongue even though she parts her lips. “Marry me.”

“I already said yes to that.”

“This weekend. Tomorrow. Be my wife. Be Violet Waters. Be mine.”

“I’m already yours, Alex. I’ve been yours since the moment you slammed into the plexiglas and made me spill my beer on my boobs.”

“So let’s do it. We’re here. There are a million places we can go. We can even find somewhere nice, classy—it doesn’t have to be done by Elvis.”

“I thought you wanted a wedding, with people, and a party.”

“You’re the part that matters. I just want you, Violet. Our closest friends are all here.”

She leans back, her lips pursed. She’s considering it.

“We can do this if we want to. There’s nothing to stop us. I want to. I want you.”

“What about all the money you’ve put down for the wedding?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What about our moms?”

“They’ll get over it.” But even as I say this, I’m not so sure it’s true.

Violet sighs. “You have no idea how much I want to say yes to this, Alex. But I can’t do that to my mom. I’m her only child. It was the two of us for almost my entire life. I was at her wedding; she has to be at mine. I can’t get married without her. And your mom would be devastated.”

She’s right. “What if I can get them here?”

“How are you going to do that?”

“With a few phone calls and my credit card.”

She bites her lip. “What time is it in Canada?”

“My dad will still be awake. Are you in?”

Her smile is a resounding yes.

I call my dad who, as expected, is still up. His first reaction is concern, because we have pregnant Sunny with us, so he thinks something has happened to her. His secondary reaction is confusion, until I explain why I’m calling. As this is going on, Violet is on the phone with my travel agent, booking their flight and transportation to the airport. We can get them here before lunch tomorrow.

Of course, then my mom has to get on the phone and argue her case.

“Mom, we’re getting married this weekend, and we’d really like you to be here.”

“But what about the cottage in August? I have invitation samples; people are expecting a wedding. Violet doesn’t even have her dress. It’ll have to be something off the rack. Do they even have nice places to buy wedding dresses in Vegas? I don’t know about this—”

“I’m not asking permission; I’m telling you. This is happening. I’ve taken care of your flight, transportation, and accommodations. I know this isn’t what you would’ve planned for us, but it’s what we want, and we want you here with us.”

The silence following this statement is long. Violet sits beside me, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. I mouth It’ll be fine.