Page 58 of Bossy Bride: Emma and Jesse

“Hmm…” Emma is tapping her chin with her forefinger. “How do you open the door?”

I throw up my hands and walk over to the front wheel, then precariously take a seat on top of the tire. “No fuckin’ clue, babe.”

She turns to me. “We did not come this far to be locked out of our own jet.”

“Didn’t we though?” I laugh. I can’t help it.

“Surely there’s a way to open the door and pull down the stairs?”

I shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Look. It can’t be that hard. This is the handle, right?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s locked. I’m also pretty sure Miles is the one with the key.”

“But maybe… see? There’s this little button. I think I’ve seen Miles open the door with this button.” She presses the button.

Nothing happens.

“OK, so maybe there’s a trick with the handle and the button?”

I sigh. I’m actually kinda sore from all that rope-swinging and sword-fighting. But I get up and walk over to it because I really do want to just go inside and collapse. I study the side of the plane, trying to work out the meaning of the button and the handle.

Then I glance over at the jet in front of ours and notice there’s some writing on the door. And sure enough, when I walk over to it, there are instructions. Instructions which have been conveniently left off of Emma’s jet because it’s got that fancy custom black paint job.

“Hold the button and turn the handle at the same time,” I call to Emma.

She does that and then squeals with delight. “We did it!”

“Thank God.”

She slowly lowers the small set of airstairs and we use the last of our energy to climb them and enter the front cabin.

Then we look at each other and realize mistake number two.

“We don’t have power,” she says. Because the engines aren’t on.

I just laugh. Fuck it. I take her hand, drag her back to the bedroom, and we collapse onto the mattress.

I don’t even care about power. At least we now have a home base away from the crazy world of Fingers’ Fantasy Vegas Weddings. And even though I would really like to tackle my almost-bride and take all her clothes off, the next thing I know she’s blissfully asleep.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - EMMA

I’m in the middle of the most delicious dream.

My wedding, the way I imagined it. Not this crazy Vegas adventure. Not my mother’s Krakken version of the big day. Mine. All mine.

In this version of Emma and Jesse’s Christmas Eve Wedding Fantasy everything is dreamy and surreal and no one is stressed or disappointed and nothing goes wrong.

All our family members are there. My parents, my brothers—hell, even my childhood dog is there. And Jesse’s brothers and almost-sister-and-brother-in-laws.

The dress is amazing. A tight, form-fitting mermaid dress that hugs all my curves and makes Jesse look at me hungrily. He’s dressed up like a billionaire bad boy in a black tux, his hair just a little bit disheveled, just enough to look sexy but not unkempt. And his smile—God, his smile as I make my way towards him is something worth memorizing. Something to be treasured. Something I wish I could capture in a bottle and save for a dark day.

I have a long train being held up by little flower-girl Maisy as I walk down the aisle and my dad is beaming at me as he guides me up the steps and hands me off to Jesse at the altar.

My stomach is filled with happy jitters. My heart is beating fast, but it’s not a thump-thump, thump-thump, like the sound effects in a horror movie. It’s like the hoofbeats of a galloping horse on the beach where the surf meets the sand. A powerful but soft beat. A strong but smooth rhythm.

My father kisses me on the cheek as Jesse takes my hand, his eyes locked on mine like there is no one else in this church. No one else even alive on this planet.