Perfectly Wedded (Perfect Crush #1)

5. Sloan

FIVE

Sloan

“ T he Little Pink Chapel of Love isn’t as cute as the charming sign,” I whisper to Vale in the lobby which is the size of a small closet. The floor is sticky, and I’m afraid if I sit down, the chair might give me a fungal infection.

Instead of white roses, I’m holding a bouquet of tacky-looking fake carnations in bubblegum pink. But the saddest part is that the only two witnesses are strangers—the officiant and his wife, who run the chapel. Reverend Clarence—who I’m slightly doubtful is an actual reverend—looks like he could fall asleep at any moment, while his white-haired wife, Eunice, can barely hear a word we say. No wonder 1950s organ music is blaring through the speakers.

They’ve managed the Little Pink Chapel for over fifty years, and I’m sure they’re planning on dying here, more than likely in the middle of someone’s ceremony. I just hope it isn’t ours.

“I’m sorry about the ring,” Vale whispers again as he glances at my hand.

“You can’t even tell it’s not real.” I hold up my left hand so that the cubic zirconium stone glitters in the brassy yellow light.

He holds my hands, rubbing his thumb over the stone. “We’ll get you a new ring as soon as possible. This is only for the ceremony.”

Vale glances at Clarence, who stands at the front of the chapel with his eyes closed, looking like he’s ready to topple over.

“Do you think he’ll wake up for the vows?” Vale asks.

“Does it matter? No one will hear us over that thundering organ anyway.” I nod toward the speaker hidden behind a spray of fake lilies.

Eunice waves Vale toward his spot at the front. Then she switches the music to the wedding march as the speakers pop violently, waking Clarence from his nap.

I walk down the aisle, a knot of confusion tangling inside me. This isn’t a real chapel, and we’re not really in love. Vale’s reasons sounded so convincing on the street, but now that I’m about to go through with this ridiculous plan, doubt washes over me—the same sort of regret you feel when undergoing a dental procedure.

This isn’t what I thought my dream wedding would look like. As a little girl, I always imagined getting married outside under a lovely pergola in Granny’s backyard, accompanied by a string quartet, and surrounded by an explosion of flowers. What I got instead is an outdated chapel with peeling paint, music that’s making my ears bleed, and garish plastic flowers in neon colors that look like they were purchased from the dollar store.

Sure, marrying my best friend is a dream come true, but the circumstances feel all wrong. He didn’t ask me out of love, and I said yes like it was a business deal. I couldn’t even admit to him that I really wanted to date him, much less marry him. Which means, eventually, I’ll have to let him go. And I don’t know how I’ll survive that.

When I reach the front, Vale takes my hands and smiles. He’s so unfairly handsome, it almost hurts. It makes me wish we were getting married for the right reasons—out of love instead of necessity.

Reverend Clarence repeats the marriage script like he’s done this in his sleep (probably because he has), and when we reach the vows, every instinct screams at me to run, to bolt down the aisle and escape this mad plan to save us from making this terrible decision. But just as the urge to flee peaks, Vale’s grip on my hands tightens, like he’s trying to reassure me that this is the only way, even though my voice wavers and my chest aches. How am I supposed to mean these promises when I’m hiding the truth from everyone who matters, especially Vale?

Before I can dwell too long on the words I’ve just recited, Clarence’s voice breaks through my thoughts as he says, “You may kiss the bride.”

Panic shoots through me like I’ve just been told to jump out of a plane without a parachute.

We never talked about the wedding kiss. Did I miss that part of the fake wedding manual? I glance at Vale, who’s scanning my face like he’s trying to figure out if I want to be kissed.

Eunice calls from the back, “Go on, honey.”

I lean forward, hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible. But as I move, Vale shifts slightly, and I suddenly realize I’m on a collision course with his chin. I adjust in time, while Vale dips his head, and somehow—by sheer luck—our lips barely meet.

The second they touch, a spark shoots through me, like two crossed wires finally finding a connection. It’s awkward and definitely not the stuff of fairy tales... but it’s Vale . His kiss makes my heart do a little somersault, leaving me feeling like warm honey.

I lean into him, wanting more, but then realize my mistake. I can’t want this .

Vale pulls away slowly, his eyes heavy on me with questions, but I’m still caught in the moment, the connection fizzing in my chest like a sparkler shooting tiny stars. Maybe he was doing this for my sake, but holy cow did it feel real.

Eunice turns on the wedding march—ruining the moment—and throws a single handful of rice at us right before she drapes a Just Married sash across my chest. The whole ceremony is ten minutes long and quicker than a fast-food meal.

As we step outside, Tony, our driver, gives us a thumbs up. “The city of love strikes again. I can see it all over your faces.”

Is he talking about my face? Are my feelings for Vale that obvious?

I shoot a nervous glance at my new husband, who seems unfazed by Tony’s comment. “Speaking of the city of love, can we finish our tour now?”

We pile into the car, and Tony parades us around Vegas with the windows down. For a fleeting moment, it all feels like a delicious dream. I can’t actually be Vale’s wife—this can’t be real. But that’s the thing about Vegas. It’s a lot of flashy lights and beautiful facades, and just like our marriage, it’s all for show.

When we reach the hotel, still reeling from our wedding, we step into the elevator in silence. I stay pressed against one wall, Vale on the opposite side, keeping his distance. The air between us feels thick, weighted with the unspoken tension of husband and wife, even though I can hardly call our marital arrangement anything more than a business contract. I pretend to be distracted by the ceiling, the floor—anything but him. Every time our eyes meet, my pulse quickens, and my heart bucks as if it’s forgotten this marriage is just pretend.

“Is there anything else you want to do tonight?” Vale asks from across the elevator, his voice low, eyes snagging mine. There’s something heavy in the question, a weight that makes my chest tighten.

My head scrambles, grasping for anything as I fiddle with my ring. “You mean other than go to bed?”

Vale raises an eyebrow.

I quickly backtrack, my face flushing with heat. “I mean, just sleeping... I’m so tired!” Then I give a big fake yawn just to make my point.

A teasing grin spreads across his face. “Oh really? I wasn’t aware that bed was on the agenda. ”

“Well, it is now.” I can’t wait to return to my room, where sleep will drown out my embarrassment and the spinning thoughts of what this new life with Vale really means—or what it doesn’t mean.

Just then, the doors of the elevator slide open, and Anthony and Demetria appear on the other side. For one awkward second, we just stare at each other, and I can’t believe our bad luck.

“We meet again,” Anthony says, draping a lazy arm around Demetria’s shoulders.

Their eyes drop to the sash draped across my body, and I suddenly realize I forgot to take it off.

“You got married tonight?” Demetria says, her face flashing with jealousy.

“Sure did,” Vale answers smoothly, then shifts closer to me, his arm slipping around my waist as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “When you’re crazy about each other, why wait?” His dark eyes cut to me as his fingers graze the top of my hip, warming the ice in my blood.

This is how husbands and wives are supposed to act, right? The warmth of his touch sends electricity through me, and I try to act like it’s not causing my heart to flutter like a trapped hummingbird.

They step inside, and the elevator doors close, sealing us in together.

Anthony glares at Vale. “I thought you were joking when you said you were engaged.”

Vale’s lips press into a firm line. “I don’t joke about things like marriage.” Which is ironic, since our entire ceremony was a joke.

The elevator dings for our floor, and Vale’s fingers intertwine with mine as we walk out together.

“Good luck,” Anthony says. “Most Vegas marriages last as long as the wedding ceremony.” As the elevator doors slide shut, the last thing I see is his smug grin.

I storm forward to give him a piece of my mind, but Vale pulls me back. “Forget him. He’s not worth your time. We need to head back to our room before we run into anyone else.” Vale pulls me down the hall, avoiding eye contact.

“Wait. Did you say our room?” I ask, stumbling on the carpet as he catches my elbow. His hand remains on my arm like it’s permanently attached.

“If anyone sees us go into separate rooms, they’ll suspect something.” His jaw clenches as his eyes dart down the hallway. “I’m sorry, Sloan, but this is the only way. I hate that we have to sneak around, but running into Anthony made me realize that we’re not safe letting down our guard, even for a moment.”

As soon as the hotel door clicks shut behind us, my chest tightens as the weight of it all hits me like a ton of bricks. Anthony knows we’re married, and none of our family or friends have the faintest idea. He could literally ruin everything with a single word.

I toss the cheap flowers into the trash with a frustrated sigh and sink into the nearest couch, my head in my hands. “What are we going to do? He could tell anyone and our secret’s out.”

“He won’t tell.” Vale leans against the door, his posture tense, as if he’s not sure whether he should come in or stay where he is. Even though he rents a room in my house, it feels strange to have him in my hotel room like this. My brain knows we’re pretending, but my body feels every inch of the tension.

I shift uncomfortably, hyper-aware of the space between us, or rather, the lack of it. Vale’s presence makes me feel like a tightly wound cord, the tension in my belly coiling tighter with every second that passes.

“You know what this means, right? I’m staying here,” Vale finally says, his tone casual.

My face snaps up. “Here? As in, this room?” My eyes dart around, scanning for any rogue underwear in plain view.

“Would you rather stay in my room?” he teases, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” I say. “I guess you should, uh, get your flannel pajamas and toothbrush, then. You know, for our sleepover .”

Vale’s lips curl into an amused grin. “Who said I wear grandpa pajamas?”

I sit up straighter on the couch, heat creeping up my neck. “I assume you wear something ?” The idea of Vale sleeping in something less never crossed my mind, but now it’s all I can think about. It’s going to be a long night if he does.

“Don’t worry, I wear something,” he says. “But if you’re concerned, I can always wear a shirt tonight. Wouldn’t want to make you too uncomfortable.” His eyes flash with mischief, clearly enjoying how flustered I’ve become.

My cheeks are melting off my face like hot lava. “Oh, please. I’m not worried about that. Just make sure whatever you wear covers the essentials.” I cross my arms, pretending to be calm, even though the thought of Vale shirtless is doing dangerous things to my imagination. “What do you want to do?” I ask, moving to the bed and grabbing the remote. “Watch something on TV?” Anything to distract my overactive imagination.

“Never thought I’d hear that on my wedding night,” he says with a low chuckle.

“Do you have a better suggestion?”

“A few,” he says, taking off his suit jacket and unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. “But you wouldn’t be interested.”

“Try me.” My eyes land on the space of his skin where the shirt opens, taunting me. I’ve never been interested in seeing a man unbutton his shirt... until now. Vale is the only guy who could make me feel this way about one open button.

He notices my eyes lingering on his neck and his lips curve on one side. “They all involve going out. Maybe a casino or a show?”

“Oh,” I say, feeling deflated. Vale wasn’t suggesting a date with me alone. Why would he? We’re not a real couple. If we went out, we could blend into the crowd and forget that we’re actually married.

“Are you hungry? We could order food.” I toss my stilettos next to the bed and root through my luggage, tossing clothes on the floor until I find my nightgown at the bottom.

As soon as I unfold the black silky fabric, Vale’s eyes lock on it, lingering just a second too long before he quickly glances away. His jaw tightens, and I catch the subtle shift in his posture, like he’s fighting the urge to look again.

Of all the nightgowns I could have packed, why did I bring this one? Oh, right—because I foolishly assumed no one would ever see me in it.

“I’m still full from earlier,” he says, his eyes fixed on a blank wall to his right, like it’s the most fascinating thing in the room. He’s clearly trying not to look at me—or my nightgown. Is he embarrassed by the thought of seeing me in it? I haven’t been working out much since the accident, and my body’s softer now, not like the fit girls he’s probably used to.

“You don’t have to avoid looking at my nightgown, you know. It’s not going to bite. Unless you’re embarrassed or something.”

“Me, embarrassed? Nah, just trying to give you space.” He leans back casually, crossing his arms like it’s no big deal. It almost seems like he’s trying a little too hard.

“We’re just sharing a room... as friends.” No big deal, right? I rub my forehead, a familiar throb of pain behind my eyelids, most likely from a headache. “You know, I’m not feeling great. I think I’ll head to bed instead.”

“Are you okay?” he asks, frowning.

“I’m fine, Vale,” I say, heading for the bathroom, cutting off any further questions. The last thing I want is to burden him with my problems. I’ll just take some medicine that’ll knock me out, and he’ll never know the difference.

“Are you sure? You suddenly look...” His voice trails off, concern creeping in.

“Yes,” I snap, not meaning to, but I can’t help it. “Just tired.”

He hesitates, his eyes searching mine for a moment longer. “Okay,” he says finally, his voice softening. “I’ll just grab my toothbrush and clothes from the other room.” Before I can say another word, he’s out the door like I’ve just come down with food poisoning .

I sigh, slumping against the bathroom counter. Maybe he’s already regretting his decision to marry me, but there’s no turning back now. We have to play the part of the perfectly wedded couple, no matter how miserable I feel. Because as much as I want Vale, as much as I long for something real with him, I know I’ll never truly have him as my husband.