Reluctantly, I free her from the hug, and we walk down a couple of blocks. Suddenly Mariya tries to pull away from me, her arm lifting as she points toward something across the street. "Look." She squints as she reads, "Traditional... Elvis..." she starts to laugh. "A mob wedding. God, we have to do it!"
Grabbing hold of my hand, she pulls me toward the chapel.
Before I know what's happening, Mariya approaches a man
dressed as Elvis and demands, "Marry us."
What?
My gaze snaps to her flushed face because it's the last thing I expected to hear out of her mouth.
"Do you have a license?" Elvis asks, not in the least surprised. This kind of thing must happen a lot. I'm just about to tug her away from the chapel when disappointment tightens her features. "Damn. There goes my
only chance."
My eyebrow lifts as I keep staring at Mariya, and the idea starts to grow on me at the speed of light.
Elvis steps closer. "The marriage bureau closes at midnight." He checks the time on his wristwatch. "You still have forty minutes. Get a license, and we're good to go."
A smile splits over Mariya's face as she stumbles into my side. "Yes!" Her fingers splay over my abs, her eyes shining like stars as she looks up at me.
Christ.