She was perfect. Radiant. Glorious. A vision.

“I feel like I should be on my knees again,” I said in a small voice.

She gave me a nervous smile and ran a hand over the glittering dress. “Just tell me you can afford all this, because I might take back what I said about going with the T-shirt.”

“I can afford it,” I said, still awestruck by her beauty.

She gave me a small nudge. “Then you’d better get dressed.”

The consultant was happy to show me to a dressing room, happier still when she saw my money. The tux they’d picked out was classic and elegant, double-breasted and black. The consultant made sure I wanted to buy it, rather than rent it, and I reassured her I did. Renting would’ve required a credit card, and I wanted to use mine as little as possible, since that provided a trail. The more I could do in cash, the better.

Sydney’s eyes shone when I stepped out of the dressing room. I felt paltry next to her brilliance, but she assured me I looked amazing. The consultant helped pin a white peony to my jacket, and I noticed Sydney was carrying a small bouquet of pink ones in one hand. In her other hand, she held the two bags we’d been juggling since coming to Nevada, and now I had more to add to the collection. We managed to consolidate them all into one bag before leaving the store, and she gave the wine-store bag a puzzled glance.

“What’s that for?”

“Our honeymoon,” I said.

“I figured that’s what the drugstore bag was for,” she remarked.

“That too,” I promised.

We finished up the last of our payment and then walked out hand in hand, completing the last bit of our journey by foot. Our destination was the Firenze, a new hotel with an Italian theme that this shopping complex connected to. I could tell Sydney was a little self-conscious walking through the crowds in her wedding finery, but that was by no means an uncommon sight in Las Vegas. People smiled as we passed, and many congratulated us. It did, perhaps, attract more attention than we wanted, but I kind of liked pretending all the people we passed were guests attending our wedding. That, and I was more than a little proud to show off the gorgeous bride at my side.

Just as we reached the Firenze’s entrance, a new text came in from Jill. I read it and found a big smile spreading over my face. “What is it?” asked Sydney.

“Wait and see,” I said. “We just got a major wedding present.”

The Firenze, like most big Las Vegas resorts, had a section of wedding chapels, and I led Sydney to them through the casino. A nervous-looking man in a hotel uniform paced the wing and came to a halt when he saw us.

“Are you Adrian?” he asked.

“I sure am.”

He looked relieved. “Okay, you’ve got ten minutes to get in and out before I’m in big trouble. There’s a big party that’s got this reserved, and they’ll start showing up soon.”

“That’s all the time we need,” I told him, handing over a stack of cash.

“Right this way,” he said, beckoning us to a door marked TUSCAN CHAPEL. He opened it for us.

Sydney gave me an amazed look. “You bribed our way into a wedding?”

“The good places book up in advance, even in Las Vegas.” I gestured her inside. “This was the only way I could get you to Italy.”

She stepped inside and laughed, looking around with delight. The chapel was small, designed to hold about fifty people, and was painted with an American idea of Italian grandeur. Murals on the walls depicted fields of grapes, while the domed ceiling was covered in angels. An abundance of gold trim throughout the room questioned good taste, but I could tell from her shining eyes that it didn’t matter.

At the front of the room was a podium decked with flowers. An officiant stood behind it, with one of the hotel’s staff photographers hovering nearby. I owed them money too. The guy who’d let us in worked for the wedding reservation desk, and I’d essentially had to do some fast talking over the phone earlier today, promising to make this illicit affair worth his while if he could get us a room and the appropriate personnel. We set our bags on an empty pew and started to approach the official when I remembered something.

“Oh, hang on. You need this first.”

I caught hold of her hand and slipped on the newly made engagement ring. Sydney’s breath caught at the glittering array, and then she looked up at me in alarm, finally realizing where the funding for this adventure had come from. “Adrian, those are your aunt’s.”

I led her forward. “And now they’re yours.”

The officiant knew about our time constraints and kept the service pretty basic, mostly sticking to what was legally required in the state of Nevada. He did add one part that was his own design, words that burned into me and repeated in my brain later when I slipped the little glittering circle of rubies onto Sydney’s finger: “Until now, you have always lived your life alone. Every decision you’ve made has been for you and you alone. Now, and for the rest of your days, your life will be tied to another’s. Every decision you make will be for both of you. What one does affects the other. You are a family, a team . . . inseparable and unbreakable.”

They were powerful words for someone like me to hear, someone who’d indeed lived a pretty selfish existence. But as I met Sydney’s shining eyes and saw the hope and joy radiating from her, I felt up to them. I was ready to take that selfless step with her, to know that everything we did now was about the two of us and, eventually, our family. This was the biggest decision I’d made in my life . . . and the one I did most happily.

When the vows were said and the rings were on, the officiant pronounced us husband and wife. I drew Sydney to me and kissed her, full of love and life and the happiness of what we had in store for us. When we finally pulled apart, the minister added, “I’m very pleased to introduce the world to Adrian and Sydney Ivashkov.”

Sydney’s smile turned a little wry at that, and I couldn’t help but groan. “Oh no. What?”

She laughed. “Nothing, nothing. I just always figured I’d keep my own name. Or at least hyphenate.”

“Really, woman?” I said. “You bring that up now? You owe me another kiss for that.”

I drew her back to me and actually got two kisses. We signed the paperwork with the officiant, and then I paid him and the photographer their bonuses. I also bought the memory card out of the photographer’s camera then and there, despite his protests about how he normally touched up the photos and uploaded them for online viewing. “No time,” I said, waving the magic wad of cash around. It was nearly as good as compulsion.