A Very Vegas St. Patrick's Day (Very Holiday, #3)

by Kayley Loring

“You’ve seen all these other people standing on these ledges, and they didn’t fall. What is it you’re afraid of?” “Being the first to fall. That’s what I’m afraid of.” “Well now, darlin’.” He walks backward, out onto the glass ledge. “Then I’ll go first.” He’s there. Standing there on the ledge, smiling at me, arms outstretched. “So far so good, yeah? Come on. Let’s not come this high up without going to the edge together.”

We were somewhere on the road between Very Tipsyville and Drunkity Drunktown when we applied for and received our marriage license at the bureau. But Nolan has a mythical Irish liver, and I spent many nights from the age of sixteen to nineteen pretending to be sober. On top of that, I’ve spent every day of my life from age nineteen to now pretending I know what I’m doing—so we’re both really good at acting logical and rational.

May the devil cut the toes off our foes, That we may know them by their limping.

“Is this a birthday party or something?” the guy running the counter asks me. I’d expect a squeaky-voiced teenager, but it’s a greasy guy in his forties with an unlit cigar hanging out of his mouth. Must be the owner. I shake my head no. “Then what is it?” I squint, giving the track my hard look. “Today is the day I reckon with fate. The day I wrestle with my destiny to become the man of the house and win over my new heir.”