Vegas Aces: The Wide Receiver Complete Series

CHAPTER 18 TESSA

The plane touches down, and my eyes are out the window while my hand is planted firmly in Tristan’s. I spot the hotels I’ve only ever seen in pictures as I stare out the window, and it’s every bit as magical as I thought it might be.

“How far do you live from all that?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I lived about fifteen minutes away in a kickass house, but the only way I could get Savannah to leave was to move out.”

“Where would you want to live?” I ask.

“If I was buying, I’d probably want to go somewhere around Luke’s neighborhood. It’s close to the Complex and it’s in a good school district.” He reaches over and lays his hand on my stomach, and it hits me that I’m moving here.

We’re going to be raising a child here.

It looks incredible from the window, but I truly have no idea what to expect. Vegas always seemed like the city of sin and bright lights, but now I’ll call it home.

My father must be rolling over in his grave.

What a strange time to think of him.

“Do you like it here?” I ask. If anyone would give me an honest answer, it’s Tristan.

“I love it,” he says. “The mountains, the palm trees, the weather…it’s like being on vacation all the time when you’re used to icy cold winters and humidity and snow.”

“Even after three years here?” I ask.

He nods as he averts his eyes to the window.

I squeeze his hand in mine as I keep my eyes on him rather than the scenery. “So is this where you want to settle?”

He lifts a shoulder. “It’s hard to say. It’s easier to have a home base away from all this because none of it’s stable. I could be traded, or hurt, or not renewed if I have a shitty season. There are a lot of factors.”

“Is that why you bought the house on the corner?”

He leans in and presses a soft kiss beneath my ear. “No. That was for you.”

My chest tightens and my eyes fill with tears. How did I ever get so lucky as to find this man not just once, but twice in one lifetime?

Since Tristan sprung for first class tickets, we’re the first people to walk off the plane. We’re ushered to some private terminal where our bags from baggage claim are delivered to us, and then we get into a car to take us to our hotel.

I’ve never actually experienced the celebrity lifestyle before, but I suppose I could find a way to get used to all this. It’s quite different from how I’m accustomed to traveling.

Get on the plane when you’re called. Fight for your seat and hope and pray you don’t get stuck in a middle. Wait at baggage claim, sweating like a pig with everybody else, and then fight your way to the front when you see your bag. Wait for a cab, trying to calm down after the fight at baggage claim and the rush to get in line so you’re not waiting forever for your ride.

I like this version better. Maybe I’m scared of the spotlight, but this could be a decent trade-off for it.

I’m in awe as I look out the window. We’re a street away from the Strip, but when the driver turns onto it, even in the daytime without the lights flashing against the dark night sky…it’s simply magical.

We turn into one of the gorgeous hotels, and the driver drops us by the door. We walk through the lobby toward the reception area and I’m simply in awe of everything around me.

It’s like I’ve been transported to Italy as I walk the indoor area outfitted with huge chandeliers and beautiful works of art. After we check in, our bags are taken up to our room for us.

“Want to go up or want to look around?” Tristan asks me.

I opt for looking around, so we head outside to watch the gondolas as they move romantically along, and we watch the people as they hustle and bustle their way down the Strip. We walk a few doors down and have lunch on the patio of a restaurant, people-watching and enjoying our time as a couple visiting Las Vegas.

“It’s rare I get to see the Strip from this angle,” Tristan says. “I usually only come down here for team events or club appearances.”

“Do you go to a lot of those?” I take a sip of my Sprite.

“Clubs?” he clarifies, and when I nod, he shrugs. “Not a lot .” He shifts a little and averts his gaze back to the people passing by, caught up in their own lives and totally oblivious to the fact that a huge football superstar is sitting at this table watching them. “Paid appearances are usually not very exciting, as I’ve mentioned before. Every move is dissected thanks to social media. I’ve been to some—uh… private clubs that tend to be lower pressure.”

“ Private clubs?” I repeat. “Like for rich people?”

He chuckles, and I get the sense he’s a little uncomfortable. “Sort of, I guess.” He pauses, and he opens his mouth to say something else when the server comes by to ask if we need anything else.

“Just the check,” I say. I’m ready to explore some more, ready to check out the chapel where we’re getting married in two days’ time, ready to go to our room for a sex break or maybe even a nap. A snap? I read about that on one of the mom blogs—it’s sex followed by a nap, apparently one of the few ways to actually fit in nookie once you have kids.

I’m torn between wanting to relax and wanting to immerse myself in the full Vegas experience.

We’re walking back toward our hotel when a woman does a double take at Tristan. Her eyes slide over to me then down to my pregnant stomach, and I feel suddenly self-conscious.

Does she recognize him? Is she instantly judging me and deciding I’m not good enough for someone like him? Will we end up on social media?

Will it always be like this?

I’m sure Cam’s wife hasn’t forgotten about her threats to me even though he signed the paperwork giving me full custody. If I’m plastered all over social media, it’ll just be a reminder to her. I’m not sure what she wants out of all this, but I can’t be linked publicly to Cam. It won’t just affect Paul anymore. Now Tristan is involved. His reputation will be on the line, too, plus his family, and Cam’s kids, and it’s all too much.

Fear seeps into me and swims in my blood. I am meant to be with Tristan. He knows it and I know it, and that’s all that matters. But these forces continue to try to tear us apart, and I’m suddenly terrified we’re rushing into this marriage thing with all the wrong intentions.

Another woman gives me the eye like I’m not good enough for the man clutching my hand.

Maybe it’s all in my overactive imagination.

Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones.

Maybe it’s pre-wedding jitters.

Or maybe it’s none of those things, and I have legitimate reasons to be nervous about all this.

“Tess?” Tristan asks, and his voice sounds far away as he snaps me out of my thoughts. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” I whisper.

“You’re squeezing my hand so tightly and your face is pale. Do you want to sit for a second?” he asks.

“I’m okay,” I repeat, a little louder this time. I draw in a shaky breath.

“Tristan?” some woman says, and when I glance up at her, I find a gorgeous woman getting closer to him. She wears a gold string bikini and a huge headdress with fruit and feathers. It looks like it must weigh fifty pounds, like her small frame can hardly hold it up but she’s somehow managing.

“Brandi?” Tristan says, and wait a second…he knows her?

She folds herself into his arms, and he has to drop my hand in the process.

Are these the sorts of women he’s friends with in Vegas?

Is it still a good idea for me to actually move here? He’ll be here, and of course I want to be with him. I need to be with him, but I also trust him. I trust that he’ll do right by me. He’s never given me any reason not to trust him.

But Savannah’s words about Tiffany rush back to me.

I suck in a breath.

He’s left out some details. It’s not anything for me to be upset about—after all, I’ve left out some pretty major details, too.

But what sort of marriage are we building if we’re both entering it with secrets?