A Match Made in Vegas Read Online Crystal Kaswell

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"She went with teal." The joke settles my stomach. Eases the tension in my shoulders. I don't feel great after last night, but I don't feel hungover either. No pounding headache or dry mouth or fuzzy memories.

"Gross." Cassie puts her hands over her face in a show of hiding. "I'm not listening."

For the first time all morning, I smile. For the first time, I feel easy.

I can still joke with my sister. Other things are complicated, but I have her.

She didn't disown me for sleeping with her best friend.

She doesn't hate me because I married her best friend.

"We had sex," I say, "but it wasn't a dare."

"I think you misunderstand my gesture. It means, I don't want details."

"I didn't bring up the ties," I say.

She laughs. "Fair enough." That, too, is easy. Like old times.

Things haven't changed between us.

I open my mouth to say something else, but I catch myself. I don't need to offer anyone details about last night. But I especially don't need to share them with my sister.

I just want to tell someone.

Everyone

Maybe I'm not as different as other men as I like to believe.

Maybe I want everyone to know for a brief moment to have me with mine.

Mine. Does that even make sense?

How can one person belong to another? Why would anyone want someone to belong to them?

Daphne is a strong, independent woman. I would never want to take that from her. I would never want to ask her to be less, to make her world smaller instead of bigger.

Cassie gives me a minute to drink tea and sort through my thoughts. Then she asks, "How did the dares end up on marriage?"

That's a good question. I remember the ceremony, but other parts of the night are hazy. I take a long sip and wait for the image to form in my mind. "There was a couple at the bar. They walked in after a quickie ceremony. It gave her the idea." My lips curl into a smile at the memory of Daphne catching the bouquet. The way she turned to me and raised a brow should we?

"It was her idea?" Cassie fails to hide her surprise. Daphne must have run to her hotel room.

She was in a panic.

Cassie saw that. She assumed it was my idea.

Or maybe it's something about me. People always think I'm the one who broke up with an ex. People always think I'm this puppet master pulling strings.

I take charge of my life, yes, but Daphne does too.

Daphne would never agree to marry someone if she wasn't interested.

"Was she that horrified?" I ask.

Cassie bites her lip. "She was in shock."

"She was adamant, last night. I tried to say no, to remind her we were too drunk to make that decision, but she went off on some medical concept, as proof she was sober, and she teased me about not being any fun."

Cassie laughs. "That's a new one. People don't usually think of marriage as fun."

"I tried to say that." I nod. "But she said a lot of people see it as an adventure for two. We could have that adventure." It doesn't make sense now, but it did last night. "It was romantic."

Doubt fills my sister's eyes.

"She's the one who proposed," I say. "She got on one knee."

She doesn't say anything, but her expression stays apprehensive.

"See." I pull out my cell phone to show her the picture.

Cassie studies the screen carefully. "You look happy."

"I was."

"How much did you have to drink?" she asks with a careful voice. The practiced mix of caution and direct inquiry that comes with life tethered to a man in recovery.

I used to think he was an anchor around her neck. Even when I started to like him, to become friends.

That's too much chaos. It can undo her.

But the love she has for him holds her together in a way nothing else would.

I didn't understand that. I do now.

"Enough," I answer with the same caution. "But that wasn't it. It was something else." I felt a pull to be with her.

It wasn't the sort of pull people sing about or the kind of thing I see in the movies.

It was something deeper, truer.

A desire to tie myself to her. Not as an owner or as a belonging. As family.

Cassie will always be my sister. I'll always be her brother. My parents will always be my parents. But outside of my immediate family, I don't have any close connections.

I have friends. I have exes. I have coworkers. I have a job with a contract.

But I don't have a partner, an other half, a passion.

I don't have anyone who calls to say they missed me.

I don't have anyone who asks anything of me.

Only the bank, demanding a mortgage payment for thirty years.

I thought that was freedom. It is, in a certain way, but it's a cage too.


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