“Let’s try our hand at some blackjack,” he suggests. “It’s not too complicated.”
I agree, and we lose a wad of cash pretty quickly, though Luka doesn’t seem to mind. Moving on to craps, it seems like dice games aren’t for us, either…until he asks me to kiss the dice. I refuse, because gross, but blow the dice a kiss instead. And then we win.
A thousand dollars.
Jumping up and down, I yell at Luka, “We won all our money back!” and the crowd around us laughs, including the paparazzo who’s been tailing us since we walked in here.
I beg for a gelato stop, and then we Uber to the Arts District to visit A Little White Chapel and have our picture taken like real tourists. It seems we’ve been followed by our pesky paparazzo, but I don’t mind. Flashing the guy a smile and a wave as we duck into a cab afterward, I tumble onto Luka’s lap with a laugh.
“Where you two lovebirds headed?” asks the driver, an older woman with a pixie cut.
Luka looks at me. “Where to?”
With a flash of inspiration and more than a little daring, I say, “Surprise us!”
She punches in an address and we’re off, but we don’t go far. In about fifteen minutes we’re getting out at the Linq Promenade. I can see signs for shopping, bars, restaurants, a zipline, a Himalayan salt cave…I don’t even know where to start, and the afternoon is waning.
“What should we do first?” I ask the driver while Luka pays her.
“Ride the High Roller,” the woman says. “It’s not just a Ferris wheel, it’s an observation wheel. You get 360-degree views from your pod and you can grab a drink at the bar when you get your tickets and bring them on the ride with you.”
“Sounds great,” I say.
But when we get to the ticket counter, we find out that in addition to serving drinks, they’re also giving out free champagne and gourmet chocolate today—so we get to ride the wheel hundreds of feet in the air while nibbling raspberry truffles and caramels with sea salt.
The view is breathtaking, but I don’t look straight down. Neither does Luka. Instead we spend most of our half-hour revolution talking and holding hands, and I don’t mind a bit.
We live it up the rest of the day like true tourists on vacation. Dinner is at Lakeside in the Wynn, which Luka swears is the best seafood restaurant in town. Then, totally stuffed, we spend the rest of the evening shopping, eating fancy snacks, and wandering around to walk them off. I’m not oblivious to the paparazzi in our periphery that seem to always be snapping photos of us, but when Luka asks if I want him to go over and get rid of them, I say no.
“Let them take as many pictures as they want,” I add. “I’m sure your family will be thrilled to find out we’ve been publicly flaunting our relationship.”
“Maybe once we get home, we can flaunt it some more,” Luka teases, pulling me in for a kiss. It’s performative at first, his hands in my hair and on my ass and around my waist, but pretty soon we’re both so into it that I totally forget it’s all for show. He’s that good.
After watching the fake volcano erupt at the Mirage, we head back to Caesar’s to get our bags. I’m completely exhausted by the time we catch our red eye back to Chicago.
As the plane revs down the tarmac for takeoff, Luka muses, “Once those pictures hit social media, I’m going to catch hell for taking a ‘sick day.’”
“Do you regret it?” I ask, my brow furrowing.
“Nah. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” he says.
I rest my head against his shoulder and let out a contented sigh. I couldn’t agree more.
Brooklyn
Chapter 16
The first step toward finding out if what’s between me and Luka is real?
Going on A Real Live Date.
Our marriage was so rushed that we never actually got a chance to date, or even spend that much time getting to know each other. Luckily, it’s not too late to start. Once we returned from Vegas, we talked about making an effort to spend more one-on-one time together, but he went back to his usual schedule at work so fast that we never ironed out the details. It’s been a little over a week now and I’m tired of waiting…so I’m taking the initiative. After all, it’s the 21stcentury. And I’m not the kind of girl who just sits around pining for a guy and hoping he’ll eventually take it upon himself to plan something romantic. I’ve got it all figured out.
I’m about to surprise the hell out of my husband.
Considering that he’d had such a rough time with Monica on the Maxilene shoot and an even rougher time going back to the DRM offices—getting hit with an overstuffed inbox and an avalanche of contracts and phone calls to catch up on—I figure a quiet, candlelit dinner at home is exactly what Luka needs. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he walks in the door exhausted and stressed, only to find the table laid out perfectly, soft music playing in the background, me greeting him in a flouncy dress with a glass of wine freshly poured for him.
Originally I’d thought we could go out for a classic Dinner and a Movie, but when I called Emzee to ask about Luka’s favorite restaurants, she pointed out the fact that if we went to any of the pricy places that Luka liked best, we’d probably be tailed by paparazzi all night.