Eddie's POV:
"You have the tickets right, sweetheart?" I call down the hallway as I set my duffel bag by the door. Ripley is shuffling around in the master bedroom and I hear her muttering something, but the words are too muffled for me to hear.
After a moment, she comes down the hall with the tickets held proudly over her head. A smile is plastered across her face and I let my eyes wander over her body as she sets her own bag beside mine on the ground.
She's in a light wash pair of jeans and a white tank top. She's got a light, pink jacket over the tank top and it's zipped over her belly, but resting open around her breasts. Ripley's face is clean, clear, and glowing. Her blonde curls are bunched up in a messy bun atop her head.
"I've got the tickets and I think we are all set." She beams up at me and I can't help but to smile back at her, the giddiness in her expression catching.
When I let it slip to Joe that my birthday is this week, he let the entire band take the week off. He pushed out our schedule in favor of me spending some much needed time with my girl and I couldn't be more excited about it.
The only hiccup was a party invite to Brett Michael's Vegas mansion Joe had already RSVP'ed to on my behalf. After some consideration, I figured it would be best if I still went, but make Ripley tag along. When I told her we were going to Vegas, she had an influx of emotions ranging from excitement to panic to worry.
Her first thought, of course, was Orion. Where would he go while we traveled? Would he be alright without us for a few days? What if he needs us? The mom nerves were fierce, but Ripley's mom luckily volunteered to watch Orion and spent at least three hours on the phone with Ripley assuring her that she has done this once before and a few nights were nothing in comparison to raising her on her own. This gives Mrs. Marro an opportunity to take some much needed time off at the hospital as well.
When we dropped the baby off this morning, Ripley and her mom chatted for a long while before I eventually had to pry my girl away. She cried silently on the way home, but when I asked if she wanted to cancel, she insisted it was just her normal response to be sad, but we do really need this trip and she is excited.
Now, as we hop into the van and head toward the airport, I believe her excitement. She's practically bouncing in her seat as her eyes take in the passing scenery as we head into Indianapolis.
The entire way, we speculate about what Vegas may be like. Ripley had gone to the book store last week when I came home and told her about the trip, and she bought a travel guide on Las Vegas. The book has a lot of insightful tips, landmarks, and tourist attractions. Ripley gushed over the photos of the strip and the picture of the cactus. The whole ordeal was so adorable that I could barely keep from kissing her senseless.
"What do you think Brett Michael's house will be like?" Ripley asks, pushing some baby hairs from her eyes as I open my window to smoke.
"Probably huge and filled with gaudy furniture and even gaudier people," I shrug, taking a drag from my cigarette.
Ripley gasps at my nonchalant and honest answer.
"Why are we going then?" She asks, a laugh in her voice.
"It's good to make friends," I answer with a cheeky smile and Ripley snorts.
"Besides, it'll be great for these guys to see me with you. They are insistent that I can't be happy with just one girl. But they don't know my girl. I'm tired of having to deal with their crap."
Ripley gives me a solemn look. I finish my cigarette and roll up my video. My hand finds her thigh and I give it a reassuring squeeze.
"I don't like that they want to help you stray," Ripley says softly and after a long pause. I massage up and down her jean clad thigh, shooting her a serious look.
"'I'll never stray, sweetheart," I reassure her. "Even if it meant giving up my career; the fame, money, and success. It's nothing without you."
Ripley's hand comes down on mine and gives it a squeeze. When I peek over at her, she's got a soft smile on her face.
"I just hope I don't have to be a bitch to anyone on this trip," she says seriously and I laugh. I can just imagine someone saying the wrong thing to set her off and her feisty little self setting them straight.
"I'll step in before you would have to," I assure her. "This trip is our time to relax and enjoy each other's company. I'll do everything I can to make sure you have a good time."
Ripley leans over and kisses me on the cheek, making me grin. We easily go back to talking about the things we want to see when we settle in.
I'm really glad that neither one of us has been to Vegas before. Experiencing a new place for the first time together is beyond exciting. And as I pull up onto the terminal and watch as Ripley's eyes nearly pop out of her head at the sight of our private jet, pride swells deep in my chest and belly. This is all I've ever wanted. To give her the life neither of us ever dreamed of makes me the happiest man alive.
"You can't be serious," she gasps as I park a little ways away from the plane, under an awning.
"As the plague, I'm afraid," I reply, my voice somber.
Her huge sapphire eyes turn to me and stare in wonder. I can see several different emotions glistening in their deeps and she gulps deeply to keep them down. I hop out of the van and run around to her side, pulling open the door.
"You ready for the best vacation ever?" I ask loudly with a cheeky grin plastered across my face.
Ripley snickers softly and nods, clasping my outstretched hand in her own. Airport staff approach the car as I help her down and they make quick work grabbing our luggage and carrying it onto the plane.
When we walk up to the aircraft, I help Ripley up the steep steps, my hands on her waist to ensure she doesn't fall. Her steps are shaky and I'm not sure if it is from the magnitude of our situation or from the staircase.
Smiling stewardesses greet us as we board the plane. They usher us about the cabin, giving a brief tour of the plush tan seats, the tables we can use to eat or play cards, and where the bathroom is located.
Once we are settled into our seats, the stewardess offers us snacks or beverages. I ask for a Yoohoo and some m&ms. Ripley gets a soda and some chips.
I settle back against the thick cushions of my chair and watch as Ripley wiggles in her seat with excitement. She's pulled up the window panel and is staring out onto the runway at all the other planes waiting to take off. I play absently with the rings on my fingers, watching her absorb it all.
"This is crazy," she breathes and I smile. "I feel like we don't belong here. This is too fancy for us."
I shake my head at that and give her a serious look.
"Nothing is too fancy for you, sweetheart. Not ever."
Ripley's expression softens and she looks like she is about to say something before the stewardess stops by one last time to ask we fasten our seatbelts since we are set to go. Ripley and I quickly comply as the plane starts to slowly make its way down the runway.
Ripley taps her foot anxiously against the floor board and she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. My eyebrows furrow at the concerned expression on her face.
"Ripley," I call and she turns to look over at me. Her face is slightly guarded and my stomach does a little uneasy flip. "What's wrong?"
She tries to brush me off, but I give her a stern look which makes her sigh.
"I just have a hard time with takeoff," she admits and I blink a few times. "I'm fine with flying. I've flown several times. Takeoff terrifies me though. I don't like the way the whole cabin shakes and how fast we are moving. I feel completely out of control."
I peek over at the flight attendants and they are completely out of sight. Moving quickly, I unfasten my seatbelt and move to sit beside Ripley rather then across from her. I buckle back up and throw my arm over her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. She easily melts into my side and I lean into her, kissing the crown of her head.
"Silly girl," I chastize. "Why didn't you say anything sooner?"
"Because I know I am being silly," she huffs and I shake my head.
"It's not silly to be afraid. It's silly to not tell me when you're scared. How am I supposed to protect you if you keep your feelings hidden away like that?"
She doesn't reply. Her hand moves idly down my chest and I relax into her touch. It's been a while since I've had just a quiet moment with my girl. Between parenting and traveling, neither one of us has much time for anything.
The pilot's voice dings over the intercom, welcoming us to the flight and explaining it is a four hour trip. His voice is cheerful as he shares how long he has been a pilot; an impressive twelve years and I feel Ripley relax further beside me.
The plane starts to speed down the runway, picking up momentum and Ripley's hand claws at the front of my shirt. I squeeze her more tightly against me and try to rub up and down her back in an attempt to soothe her. When the plane lurches into the air, Ripley buries her face into my chest and I softly run my fingers through her hair.
"I'm right here," I reassure her. "You're doing great and everything is going to be fine. The pilot has been doing this for so long, I'm sure he could do this in his sleep.
Ripley nods against my chest, but she doesn't remove her face from the front of my shirt until the plane evens back out. Ripley untangles herself from me with a deep sigh, her shoulders relaxing and I smile. I keep my arm around her, rubbing soft circles into her arm with my thumb.
"What would you like to do once we get settled into the hotel?" I ask her, eager to get back to our earlier conversation.
"I'd love to sight see a bit. Maybe we can find some place to have dinner. I want the first night to be relaxing. I don't want to jump in head first until I have a good night's rest. I barely slept last night, I was so excited."
I beam at that, imagining her getting all worked up over the prospect of a trip with me. Ripley reaches up and wipes at her nose and gives a little sniffle and I turn slightly to look at her, worried she is crying. She isn't, but she continues to lightly rub her nose as if it is bothering her.
"What's wrong?" I ask and she looks up at me.
"My nose is suddenly all stuffed up and there is an insane amount of pressure in my sinuses."
I flag down the nearest flight attendant and ask for some tissues just as Ripley's nose starts to bleed. There is a steady stream of red coating her fingers and she tries desperately to get it to stop as the stewardesses fuss around us.
They finally find some tissue and hurriedly pass it to me. I make quick work wiping down Ripley's nose and face as she gives me a sheepish grin. Her fingers are painted red and I try to wipe them off as well as she grabs the tissue from me and presses it firmly to her nostrils.
"Am I supposed to tilt my head forward or back?" She asks and I glance up at the blond flight attendant beside me. She shrugs, her expression worried and I sigh.
"Verdict is out," I grumble. "Just do what makes you comfortable."
Ripley nods and tilts her chin downward, leaning forward slightly.
"This has never happened to me before," she giggles after a moment, her cheeks slightly flushed.
"Have you ever been on a plane this small before?" The stewardess asks. "Sometimes the cabin pressure can do pesky things to the upper respiratory system."
Ripley confirms she has never been on an aircraft this size and the flight attendant pats her shoulder reassuringly before leaving us to get comfortable. Ripley sighs softly, shaking her head.
"Never a dull moment," she huffs into the tissue and I laugh.
"With you? Never. But honestly, I prefer it this way."
I take her hand in mine as we fall back into easy conversation. The excitement still sizzles through the air as we draw nearer and nearer to our destination.
Viva Las Vegas!