Page 31 of Keep Vegas

“I’d like to make a toast in front of every star in this hemisphere.” He laughs, and I continue, “I’d like to toast Tony Ladd and the bride he should have had.”

I don’t know if that’s me, but I know it’s not any of the ones he’s already tried. There’s an eerie but beautiful glow breaking across the edges of the world. I sit back down between his legs to bask in it and he pulls a blanket over the two of us. And we watch.

The intense fuchsia gives way to a fiery orange that fades into a rainbow of sherbet peach and pink. The sun appears after its fanfare, and it looks like we could touch it. That it’s low enough and close enough to believe this is our personal sun. He kisses my head and the back of my neck. His arm comes out of the blanket, and he takes a picture with the glow of a new promise all around us. Wrapping my mind around his, I exhale deeply. I take a couple of pictures of the sun at our feet and our hands on the blanket. I know they’ll torture me later, but I want them, anyway. He holds me impossibly close.

With the sun in full view now, I say, “You have to fight her and your dad. Don't let them take what belongs to you. You’re still Tony, but you’re less.”

He holds me and whispers, “So are you.” He’s absolutely right. “But what if we could both be more?” he says. I turn around and press my lips to his, and he takes them greedily. “I can’t sleep with you, and I can’t tell you why.”

“That’s ok. Just kiss me. And you are married, right?”

His tongue slides into my mouth, and I accept it like the gift it’s supposed to be.

“Separated,” he says breathlessly, and his hands roam up and down my thighs.

I have a lot of things to unravel, but maybe he won’t walk away if he knows all my truth. If he understands the lies I’ve told are stupid things, and he knows the real me.

He kisses my neck, muttering sweet things, and I hold him tight to me. The smell of him is helping me remember that bold, bad girl Makenzie wasn’t totally terrible. I miss being fearless. Finally, a clear decision with no second-guessing. I don’t edit or think, and impulsive Mak feels good.

“Can I know you again?” I say.

He grins and slams his lips to mine. We chase our past with our tongues and hands.

“Are you casting again, little witch?”

“Maybe.” He kisses me again. This time, his soft lips take their time. Our moment evolves into what we need it to be without getting messy with memory.

“Then consider me under your spell.” He slides his hand into my hair, and I moan into his mouth. He flirts with the edge of my skirt.

“Jesus, I want to make you come. I want to see it and feel it.”

I gasp. “Same.”

He lifts his head and furrows his brow. “I have to clarify something, and I’ll get back to you. Rain check?”

“Confused, but yes.”

“More of this right now, please.” It’s sheer blissful torture as he moves me underneath him on the hood of the car. The sun is higher in the sky and spills its light all over us. Perhaps it really is a new day.

tony

Icrawl out of bed at quarter to noon. I’ve been asleep for four hours, and I woke up smiling, despite my abbreviated slumber and lack of orgasm. We fly home today, and I don’t want to miss the “recall brunch.” Dax named it that in college when we’d all get together and get blackout drunk.

I glance at my phone, and there’s nothing. I start way too many days like this—with nothing. Even my bed is empty. Laura has filled my bed for the last three and half years, and she was my successful marriage. Well, we had separate bedrooms for the last six months; she said I snored. We still occasionally had very unsatisfying sex, and then it was all bold graffiti writing on the wall.

I toss on a robe and walk out into our villa. It’s like the marble gods threw up in here. As if the height of money and decadence is hard, shiny stone. It’s Vegas-perfect. Any less, and it might look tacky, any more, and it would tip the scales to gaudy.

I appear in the archway with my spicy Bloody and raise my glass to the men, who all turn toward me. “Gentlemen! And yoga, yogurt-parfait-eating pussy.”

Hayden stretches and says, “The question is, dear friend, whose pussy did you eat?” He licks the yogurt spoon clean and places it on the table.

I shovel mac and cheese onto my plate from the massive buffet with all our favorite foods I ordered in advance. Robbie’s favorite breakfast is two. Two complete breakfasts. Even though he’s coaching now, he skates every day and trains like he used to. He’s still an enormous man.

Colt’s breakfast is stunning. He always repurposes and combines food into little works of art.

Law prefers all the protein he can get, being taller and much more lean muscle. Currently, he’s working on a full porterhouse and at least a dozen eggs. He probably already did fifty laps in the pool to keep his arm loose for his debut game, pitching for Arizona tomorrow. Glad we caught him in this pocket between minors and majors to hang out.

I empty my pockets and wallet. I surrender my phone and place it all in the center bowl that Colton is currently picking through.