Shopping for a Billionaire’s Honeymoon
Let’s do an inventory of this fine day. My day-after-I-got-married day. In Vegas.
After fleeing my Momzilla mother.
Today is supposed be Day One of my honeymoon after marrying the billionaire of my dreams.
(Let’s not count the night before).
Woke up to the lovely sight of my husband’s tousled dark hair sliding down my torso so he could feast on me for breakfast.
Had actual breakfast in bed after room service delivered mixed berries, cream, bacon, and maple-soaked carrot-cake french toast, and the best damn coffee on the planet from the coffee chain I now own.
Made love with my delightful husband in the giant jetted bathtub in our suite. Turns out I’m as bendy as a Cirque du Soleil performer when I need to be. Maybe Mom’s insistence that I attend all those yoga classes she teaches has a silver lining after all.
Dressed and prepared to hop the corporate jet for Hawaii, kisses interspersed between readying ourselves for the trip. Undressed twice. Dressed twice. Declan insisted I not wear panties for the plane trip.
“But I’m already a member of the Mile High Club,” I’d protested.
“Not as a wife.”
He had a point.
Found his brother, my best friend, a former colleague and an Anterdec chauffeur all married to each other.
Notice something a little different about that last one?
Yeah. Me too.
Day One of my honeymoon had promise, but now? Now it’s a little too real.
We’re on the plane, settling into our seats, and I’m doing my best not to think about my poor best friend and her chaotic mess back at the Anterdec resort where Declan and I just spent nearly a week trying to figure out our entire life.
Which we did, successfully, to my utter surprise. After fleeing our wedding in a helicopter and lying to my Momzilla mother, we managed to get to Las Vegas, ensconced in a resort on the Vegas Strip that Declan had designed himself as an intern in college. By the time my crazy family caught up to us, we’d steeled ourselves for the inevitable fallout.
And got so much more than we expected, in more ways than one. We’re married now. Husband and wife.
That’s really all that matters.
That, and honeymoon sex.
Lots and lots and lots of honeymoon sex. It’s my wifely right to walk funny for the next few days.
And his husbandly duty to make it so.