We still have appearances to maintain for a while, but that has little to do with why I want to keep holding her hand. Cora steps over and we take a picture with us three before I say thank you and goodbye and she heads off to rejoin her family.
“So, what's the plan?” Karley asks when we’re alone again.
“Let’s get back so we can get changed, and then we can do something you want to do. I only have one thing planned for tonight, but I wanted to see if there's anything you had in mind.”
Her eyebrows lift. “That sounds unusually nice coming from you.”
“Hey, I can be nice.”
As we head to the car, a few people congratulate us, and I notice her tight smile. I pull her closer, and her head burrows into me. The feeling of her nestled against me causes a sense of protectiveness I hadn’t anticipated. When we climb into the car, her shoulders drop, and she lets out a deep breath.
We make it back to the hotel after ten minutes, and there are a couple more congratulations as we head through the lobby. During the elevator ride, I wonder about what comes next, and even in here, it’s a balance of sharing space while maintaining boundaries.
Once we’re in the safety of the penthouse, she kicks off her heels.
I laugh. “Those looked uncomfortable.”
“They were,” she admits. “Heels are horrid, which is why you never see me in them.”
I nod, thinking back to when the last time I saw her dressed up. It was at my gallery party. She’d worn a black dress and silver heels, her hair pulled back, highlighting her high cheekbones and full lips. I remember being struck by the transformation and how confident she looked moving through the crowd. “True, only on special occasions. But I can’t deny you look good in them.”
She leans in slightly. “I’ll save the heels for when I really want to impress you. Now, where are we headed next? So I know what to change into.”
“Something comfortable,” I recommend. “Like jeans, Chucks, and a sweater.”
“Now you’re speaking my language,” she says, moving to her room. I watch her go, finding myself hating the thought ofher hanging up the dress and the ceremony becoming just a memory.
I quickly change, throwing on jeans, a t-shirt, and some casual shoes. As I button my jeans, I wonder if this counts as our first date. As I step out of the bedroom and into the main room, I’m still lost in that thought. Just as I’m about to sit on the sofa, I hear her footsteps approaching.
She’s wearing exactly what I suggested, her usual style. I smile. “Ready?”
“Yep,” she replies, and we head to the elevator. Taking her out, showing her Las Vegas, spending time together suddenly feels like the most natural thing in the world.
Inside the elevator, I’m unsure whether to grab her hand, but there’s no need to pretend here, so I keep my hand in my pocket while she holds on to her purse.
Once we reach the ground floor, I place my hand lightly on the small of her back, guiding her through the crowded lobby toward the exit. She leans slightly into my touch as we pass the other hotel guests. The private car arrives, and we get inside without a sound. The driver, already pre-booked, knows exactly where to go.
It’s getting darker, and I know the view ahead is going to be stunning. But we haven’t eaten for a while, so I grab the snacks I had the driver arrange for us to munch on during the ride. Inside, there’s assorted cheeses, crackers, chocolates, fruit, and a bottle of sparkling water.
We snack and chat as the city lights begin to glow around us. Just as she finishes a bite of chocolate, the car pulls to a stop, and she gasps. “Are we actually going on a helicopter over the Strip?”
I nod, grinning. “Let’s go.”
She jumps out of the car before I can even reach her door.
I laugh, teasing, “Excited, huh?”
“I’ve never been in a helicopter.”
I forgot she hasn’t, but I figured she’d love seeing the strip at night. I haven’t seen the strip at night either, so I listen carefully to the instructions as we’re shown to the helicopter. Asking a couple of questions to mask my own nervousness. I requested a private tour, so it’s just us. After the safety briefing, the pilot keeps us entertained until we’re inside.
Our thighs touch in the tight space. There’s a current of electricity between us that makes my skin tingle. She gives me one of those big, excited smiles. In the close quarters, I catch a hint of her scent, which is sweet and sugary, making it difficult to focus on anything but her presence beside me. As the helicopter takes off, she grips my thigh, her fingers digging in slightly, making me jerk a little. I slide my hand into hers, interlocking our fingers, letting her squeeze it tightly. Her hand feels so small, yet comforting.
She keeps holding on, eyes glued to the view outside the window. The ride is smooth as we climb higher, and the pilot starts pointing out landmarks. “Look… There’s the Bellagio fountains!” she shouts over the headset, pointing eagerly at the bursts of water dancing in perfect sync to music we can’t hear from up here. I hadn’t expected her to be so enthusiastic. She doesn’t stop there, her finger darting to the Eiffel Tower at Paris Las Vegas, then to the bright beam shooting into the sky from the Luxor.
Her excitement is infectious, spilling over with every landmark she spots. She talks about how tiny everything looks, how the Strip feels endless from up here, like it could stretch right into forever. I just smile, letting her energy wash over me, not saying much, because watching her, completely captivated, eyes sparkling with wonder, is somehow better than the view.
“Hey.” I lean closer so she can hear me through the headset. “Let’s get a picture?”
