In Other Words…Chapter Seventy-Nine
Niall’s POV
The stretch of lights ended abruptly at the spot where the city gave way to mountains and desert, which looked at bit like an ocean in the dark. Forty floors up, and I pressed my chest to the cool glass, the heat from the sun having quickly disappeared. I wished this room had a balcony.
“Jesus Christ, Niall.” She said, and I turned from the mesmerizing view. But it was only replaced by another- my girl in her knickers, bare feet on the marble tiled floor. “Get away from there. You’re freaking me out.”
“The window?” I laughed. “What could possibly happen?”
“I dunno.” She sighed. “But I don’t like you pressing against it. It makes my stomach flip.” She’s got a bit of a dislike for heights, and clearly I’d crossed the line. I stepped backward and tucked my hands behind my head and leaned against the window again, causally crossing my ankles in front of me. “Niall!” she spat, lunging across the room.
“Okay, okay.” I said as she reached me, tugging the fabric of my shirt. “You realize I’ve been skydiving, right?” She nodded. “And bungee jumping?”
“Just. Please?” She was actually frightened, her eyes glossed, palm sweaty where I took it from my chest and brought her knuckles to my lips before she turned and padded back to the bathroom, footfalls echoing.
Her dress hung on the door, and I wondered how much longer she’d be perched on the sink messing with her hair before she decided to put it on. It was fascinating to me how the clothes she wore looked on their hangers or folded neatly in a drawer, as compared to how they looked on. This dress was something I hadn’t seen before tonight. “Where’d ya get this?” I said, pulling the collar down enough to take a peek at the label. Alexander McQueen.
“El and I found it in a resale shop on Oxford.” She smiled. “Helluva find. I keep imagining who might have owned it before.” It was funny how short she seemed with nothing on her feet, as she slipped past, plucked the dress from the hanger and tugged down the zip in the back before stepping into it; one foot, and then the other.
“Did you take it to the cleaners?” She pulled her hair off to the side, not acknowledging my question.
“Zip.” Slowly, I pulled the tab, the fabric clinging to her bit-by-bit, her silhouette hugged perfectly. She turned and checked herself in the mirror, smoothing the front and stepping into her shoes. “Ready.” She smiled. I drained nearly all of what was left of my bottle of beer, leaving the last swig for her, and picked up the phone on the desk to call for the car.
She’d perfected the art of getting into and out of low-riding vehicles without giving passersby a show, knees pinched together as she lifted both legs and twisted in the seat. Sliding a few bills into the palm of the valet, I got behind the wheel, loving the way the dash was lit up in the dark. This car was pure sex, and the perfect birthday present for a guy who wonted for nothing. Despite being in it for six hours today, I was happy to be back, the engine purring and the clutch beneath my foot. “Spago?” I said. I didn’t really know if she’d made reservations. “Or maybe we take this baby through the In ‘N Out?”
“We’re in Vegas, take me to a buffet.” She said, pressing down the button for her window and extending her arm outward into the night.
“A buffet? In that dress?” I laughed.
“I don’t mean one of those five dollar all-you-can-eat joints.” She said. “But yes, a buffet. In this dress. In this car. On your birthday.”
“If you insist.” I said, halting at the red light.
“Don’t bullshit me, Horan.” She turned. “You know you want to fill that bottomless pit of yours. I’m giving you an excuse.”
“I get to pick where we go after.” I said, waiting for her to protest, but she didn’t.
She would.
Roxy’s POV
The stack of empty plates at the end of our table was growing, both of us attempting to sample everything that was available; rows upon rows of serving stations offering up sushi on tiny red plates, king crab legs, hand-carved prime rib, and an endless array of tiny desserts. On my latest trip, I’d piled my plate with strawberries, macaroni and cheese, a warm dinner roll and a crème brûlée, and slid in next to Niall, shoving him along the bench and toward the wall and reaching across the table for my drink.
“Talked to Maura a couple of days ago.” He said, shoving a forkful past his lips.
“Don’t call your mother by her first name.” I said, splitting my roll down the middle.
“That’s quite the plate you’ve got there.” He said, taking notice of my odd combination of foods, gesturing with his fork.
“Reminds me of college. Dorm food.” I smiled. This was about the furthest thing from the slop they served us in the Caf. “So…your mother?”
“The wedding.” He sighed.
“Whose wedding?” I filled my cheeks with pasta.
“Our wedding, babe.” He said, not letting me skirt. I felt bad, and a little nervous. I had the feeling that Maura may have picked up on my hesitancy, my general anxiety about the whole thing. It wasn’t that I didn’t want a wedding, and it definitely wasn’t that I didn’t want to marry Niall. I couldn’t wait to marry him. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my entire life.
“I know.” I said. “I’m sorry. You’ve got enough going on right now, you don’t need your mother calling about that.”
“It’s not like that.” he said, setting his fork along the side of his plate and turning to face me directly. “What do you think she said?”
“Ni. Don’t quiz me.” I muttered.
“She just said that whenever she brings it up, you…”
“Flake.” I finished for him. “It’s true.” He didn’t speak for a few moments, and I just looked at him. He was searching my face, and I tried my best to sort what I’d say.
“Why?” he asked finally. I half-expected him to plead with me to be honest, to tell me he could handle it.
“It’s just too much right now.” I blurted. “I’m so focused on the pub, and I feel like if I were to break concentration to try to take on the wedding stuff, that one or both would get screwed up. There’s only so much I can do, you know?”
“I get it, babe.” He said, letting his hand fall to my thigh where it traced along the pattern in the fabric. “I’m sorry I didn’t think of that. It’s hard not being around…I feel like I miss out on a whole lot of…”
“Context?” I said.
“Yeah, I guess.” He looked upset, which made me angry with myself. I thought eventually I would find a way to balance all of this stuff, and he would be none the wiser. “We could hire someone; a planner…they have those right? It’s not just the movies?”
“I don’t want that.” I said softly, wiping the condensation from my glass with my thumb.
“I know.” He said. “Bad timing, huh?” I felt a little like shit. I didn’t want to have this conversation at all, let alone on his birthday.
“Still wanna marry me?” I said, taking his hand from my lap and tucking it into mine.
“That’s the thing, babe.” He said. “I want to be married to you. The getting married part is sort of…less important to me.”
“You don’t want a wedding?” I was confused. This was the first I’d heard him put it that way.
“I do.” He said. “I want all of it, the suit, the dress, the cake, the dance. All of it. But I didn’t ask you to marry me so that we could have a wedding. I want you to be my wife.” I could have kicked myself for not bringing this up sooner, even if only over Skype. He just has a way of making things seem so much simpler, and twisting it just so to make my heart skip.
“I thought for a second you were going to suggest we go to that drive-thru wedding chapel.” I laughed nervously.
“I thought for a second that’s why you wanted to go to Vegas in the first place.” He smiled. “Honestly.”
“That’s not where we’re going after this, right?” I said. He shook his head no.
“Not unless you just want to get it over with.” It was crazy, but not really. A couple of pieces of paper, a quick ceremony and a kiss and this could all be a done deal; I’d wake up tomorrow his missus. It’d be all over the news, though.
“That would break our mothers’ hearts.” I said. It was true. “Plus, don’t think I’ve forgotten the only two things you’ve requested about our wedding.”
“Chocolate Cake.” He said.
“And that Father Brendan officiate.” I reminded him. After forty years’ service, he was no longer leading mass every Sunday, but Niall’s family had become incredibly close with the man over the years. Father Brendan was a bit unconventional, often using football analogies to drive him the Word. And he liked the drink; a proper Irish Catholic. He christened Niall and watched him grow into a man; there was no one else that Niall wanted us to stand before on the day we made our vows.
“We’ll figure it out, babe.” He said, finishing what was left on his plate. “And I’ll tell my mother to relax. We’re in no rush.”
He said it as if he were trying to convince himself of the fact.
Niall’s POV
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” she said as I pulled up to the front door and locked the brake. “No way.” I wanted to laugh, but I was so incredibly full from dinner that it would have been uncomfortable to do so.
“We agreed that it’s my choice.” I smiled, undoing my belt. “Don’t make me play thebirthday card.”
Our doors popped open and the tracer lights cast a dizzying pattern on the pavement. “Welcome to Stratosphere.” The doorman greeted us. “Checking in?”
I placed my hand at the small of Roxy’s back and nudged her toward the door. “Observation Deck.” I said to the man, who held the door and directed us to the lift directly to the right. The up arrow lit as the chime sounded and we stepped inside. I moved for a kiss once the doors closed, but her shoulder shot up to her ear and she shied away.
“Babe.” I plead. The lift began to move, and her eyes were fixed on the digital number display above the door. This was one of the fastest lifts in the city, and a smooth ride, but when the number started to climb above fifty, she tucked herself into the corner even more, hand gripping the brass bar along the wall.
“I don’t like this, Ni.” She muttered. “Why are you making me do this?”
“The lift is scaring you?” I asked. I didn’t realize she had it that bad.
“No. But I’m already thinking about what’s at the top.” I pried her fingertips from the railing and laced them into mine, squeezing tight. I knew once we got up there, she’d be okay. She’d be more than okay. The doors opened and we paid for our tickets at the counter, her hand still glued to mine as I wriggled my wallet from my pocket. I’d been up here a few times before, but bypassed the observation decks in favor of climbing into the cold plastic seat of the ride- which dangled you over the edge of the tower and whipped you around until your legs lifted to your chest and you thought your eyeballs would pop out. It was fucking awesome. But tonight, we were just going to stand and look; that would be more than enough adventure for her.
The angled-glass windows were crystal-clear, the view incredible. She seemed pretty well at-ease until we began to approach the glass, the difference of a single step making her breath catch and her fingers go white where they gripped my hand. I didn’t force it; just took a step backwards and began pointing out all the sites I recognized.Bellagio, Palms, pack of hookers…
She cracked a small smile and loosened her grip, eyeing the section of the floor that was made of thick glass, just to her left. I wanted to stroll over there and jump up and down on it to prove to her that we were safe, but I was beginning to realize that logic and fact didn’t matter much. She knew her fear was irrational.
“You want to go outside?” she said, swallowing hard.
“Do you?” I was surprised.
“No, I want to go home.” She laughed. “But we can try to go out there, but only if you promise not to do anything dumb.”
“I promise.” I said.
“I mean it. No leaning against the rail, or putting your foot over the edge. Nothing.”
I drew a ‘x’ across my heart, and she seemed satisfied. In Vegas, the unforgiving sun beat down upon every available surface, but at night, the desert sucked it away, leaving the air chillier than you’d expect. And at a thousand feet up, the wind was unimpeded by the mountains. “Whoa.” She said as one gust kicked up, her free hand flying to the crook of my elbow. I guided us over to the side, a slightly less impressive view meaning that there were fewer people, and stopped, wrapping my arms around her shoulders and rubbing my palms along her arms, trying to generate some heat. She pressed the side of her face against my chest, leaving one eye free to take in the skyline, and tucked her hair behind her ear.
“Don’t think about it.” I whispered to her, and she nodded, but her fingers held firm to my shirt. “It’s just you and me.” She closed her eyes briefly, and then forced them back open, and I could feel her begin to tremble. I hoped it was just from the cold. “Rox?” I lifted her chin. “You good?”
“I feel like my knees are going to give out.” She laughed. “My instinct is to get on the ground and spread out my weight…you know?” I didn’t. “Like we’re standing on thin ice that could crack wide open if we move too quickly. Like we’ll fall through.” She slipped downward a bit, her legs buckling. I pulled her arms around my waist and clasped her hands around my back.
“I’ve got ya.” I said into her hair. “Will it help if I talk?”
“Yes.” She answered immediately. “I’m going to just close my eyes and listen.”
I could feel her breathing against me, and she was radiating heat. I kissed the top of her head and she hugged me a little tighter.
“What if I call Father Brendan tomorrow?” I started. “And ask him how he’d feel about meeting with us next month when we play Dublin?”
“I think that would be good.” She said into my shirt. “I think in another month or so, we’ll be in a good spot with the pub, and I can finally sit down and start thinking about…Oh gosh…a date even. We haven’t even picked a date…” Her anxiety was evident once again in her words.
“That’s not what I meant.” I said, winding the ends of her hair around my fingers.