“Me too,” she said, looking him in the eyes—albeit briefly—for the first time since they’d left the suite. He reached for her hand, and brought it to his lips, brushing a soft and gentle kiss there. A tingle rushed over her skin from his touch. It scared her sometimes how easily and how much she felt for him.
“I’m famished,” she said, needing to shift gears.
“All right, let’s get some food in you, woman,” he said, and they picked up the pace through the casino on the way to the Blue Ribbon. But before they reached it, a stunning array of lights greeted them.
“Holy shit,” she said, her jaw dropping at the purple light that streamed through a gigantic chandelier in the middle of the casino. Only it was more than a chandelier. It was thousands upon thousands of beads of lights draped down from the ceiling, forming an oval curtain of glitter and sparkle that beckoned them.
“That’s the Chandelier Bar. Want to get a drink?”
“I’m starving, but oh my God, that just speaks to my bartender’s heart like nothing I’ve seen before. What a gorgeous and ostentatious display,” she said, bringing her hand to her chest.
He laughed. “Apt description, and that’s only the entrance. Let’s go in.”
They walked up the steps and into the open bar area, a truly opulent and unique place that would make the Phantom of the Opera jealous judging from the crystal creation that hung above the bar itself. “It’s like those beaded curtains that hang down in dorm rooms. Only, you know, not cheesy and tacky,” she said.
“Nope. Not tacky at all. Just a spectacle, like this whole city. Gotta say, places like this are part and parcel of why I love Vegas,” he said, when they reached the packed bar. There were only two free seats, and he pulled out one of those stools for her. “This place is all about flash and size and I’ll build a bigger one. But somehow the city thrives on that. The kind of one ups-manship that brings you things like this—a bar made out of a chandelier.”
Soon, a pretty young thing with a sleek blond chignon glided over to them, and asked for their order. Clay gestured to Julia. “Belvedere on the rocks, please.”
“And for you?” the woman asked.
“Macallan,” he answered.
“Coming up shortly,” she said and walked away. Clay turned to face Julia. He cleared his throat, and for a brief moment, she thought she saw the barest of nerves flash in his eyes. “So, I have something for you.”
Her heart dared to flutter, like a baby bird trying out its wings. She simultaneously wanted to swat her heart, and encourage it to fly again. “Oh, you do?” she said, giving him a playful look. This was so much better—she’d rather enjoy herself with him than be pissed over what hadn’t happened. Yet.
“I do, but I forgot to order ice. One second.”
He stood up, and walked to the other end of the bar, finding the blonde bartender. She nodded as he spoke, then he returned to her. “But you know about it already. The gift.”
“Oh.” Flip-flop. The wings folded in. So much for that flicker of hope.
“The necklace I was telling you about before?” he said insistently, making a rolling gesture with his hand, as if to prompt her memory.
“Right,” she said, her mind returning to the story he’d told her before she fell asleep.
He dug into the pocket of his pants, and handed her a small gift, wrapped simply in purple tissue paper. “Fitting color,” she said with a smile. She was not going to be ungrateful for this gift, and for all he’d done.
Placing the small package on the metal counter, she untaped the paper. But he stopped her, resting his hand on top of hers. “Wait. I want to say something first. I want you to know how much I have loved this weekend with you, even in spite of everything that went wrong. And it has been my absolute pleasure to shower you with gifts.”
Warmth rushed through her body, and she couldn’t help herself. She leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on his soft lips, then returned to the gift and unfolded the tissue paper.
There it was. The Purple Snow Globe he’d had made just for her. The clasp on it was twisted, and the sight of the slightly mangled bar made her throat hitch.
“It might still work,” he said. “Let me try to put it on you.”
She lifted up her hair, and he grinned wickedly at her. “Now, all I want to do is lick and bite that neck when you show it off like that.”
“I wouldn’t object,” she said as the bartender served a pair of mojitos to nearby patrons.
But there was no licking or biting, only the soft slide of his hands as he tried to fasten the necklace. The clasp didn’t want to slide in through the hook. Too many bumps and bends in it. He held it closed with his hands. “We’ll get it fixed back in New York.”
She glanced down at her chest; a silver martini glass with a purple gem on it rested against her skin. A swizzle stick popped out of the glass. “I love it.”
“Gorgeous,” he said, appreciatively, letting the necklace fall into his hands, and tucking it safely in the tissue paper. “Makes me think of the night we met.”
“When you didn’t order my signature drink,” she teased, reminding him of that first night in San Francisco.
“No. But I managed to have one anyway, when I licked it off you,” he said, now reaching for her hand. This trip down memory lane had a way of erasing all the frustrations she felt earlier. “And I wanted you to have this as the final gift this weekend, because it only seemed fitting for the last gift to be one that reminds us of how we met.”
Last gift.
Then it hit her. This didn’t have to be the last gift. It might be the last gift he gave her, but there was no reason she couldn’t give him a gift. She didn’t have a tangible one with her, but whoever said she couldn’t ask him? She wanted to marry him, she wanted to be his wife, and she’d never lived by the rules, not when it came to men and not when it came to life. She was a gambler, a woman who took chances, and even if he said he’d been carried away in bed, so what? She knew his heart and she certainly knew her own. Why the hell did she have to wait for him to officially propose? She started to speak, figuring there was no point planning it out in her head. Just dive in headfirst, and ask the man you love to be with you always.
“Clay,” she began, squeezing his fingers tighter in emphasis. “Remember earlier tonight, when—”