It’s almost like I’m floating, watching myself from the outside.
Maybe it’s the constant noise—the buzzing and ringing, and humming and talking, and laughing—all around me. Maybe it’s the artificial lights combined with lack of daylight. Who knows? But I’m reveling in it right now, surprised by how oddly good it feels.
A roulette wheel is spinning, and there are maybe six people standing around the felt, reaching and placing chips and markers all over the numbers. I’ve never played roulette either, but the concept is simple. Way easier to get than craps.
I take two one-hundred-dollar chips out of my bag and place them both on the number nineteen, drawing the curious gazes of a few fellow gamblers.
Eric was born on March nineteenth and Maggie on July nineteenth.
One hundred for each of them.
Seems a bizarre thing to gamble money on them, but for some reason, it feels like the right thing to do.
It’s as if I can sense their auras. Like Maggie thinks I’m being silly, and Eric’s laughing and shaking his head because I’m wasting money, but would never tell me not to, regardless. The dealer calls out: “No more bets!” and the small white ball clickety-clacks against the multicolored wooden wheel, landing finally on red nineteen.
People are screaming and grabbing me, and a large man walks over with a fake smile, congratulating me.
I’m too stunned to speak.
Then I’m being pulled into a large, familiar chest.
“Katie? What’s going on?”
It’s Ryan. Thank god he is here.
I don’t know why that’s the reaction I have to him holding me, but it is. He steps back, tilting my face up to his.
“Why are you crying?” Concern is etched on his handsome face. I didn’t realize I was, so I have no answer for that.
“Sir? Is everything okay? Should I call for some help?” That’s the guy who congratulated me, and I think it’s time I start talking before they have me committed.
“Yes,” I wipe my face with my hands and smile. “I’m fine. Just surprised I won is all.”
The guy nods at me like this reaction happens all the time, then hands me my chips, which is evidently several thousands of dollars.
“What the hell did I miss while I was working?” Ryan’s flabbergasted. I don’t blame him. This is a lot of money, and he hasn’t even seen what I’m hiding in my bag.
I look up at his bewildered face, reaching up to touch his prickly, soft, nearly-black beard.
“So I was walking around the casino when I met a man named Mo. He taught me how to play craps. His daughter died at seventeen in a drunk-driving accident on prom night. I rolled the dice and won insane money,” I’m rambling a mile a minute, but can’t seem to stop the verbal diarrhea. “Then Mo left, and I was walking around like some mindless zombie for I don’t know how long. I saw the roulette table and I decided to play nineteen,” I point to the table we’re still next to. Amazingly, Ryan is standing here listening to me, and not running off screaming from my crazy. “Because it’s the date of Eric and Maggie’s birthdays,” I blow out a breath. “And I won, Ryan. I won everything, and Mo told me to remember the happiness of their lives and not the sorrow of their deaths, and I’m just so tired of being sad. I want to think of them and be happy that I had them in my life, because they both made me so incredibly happy. Does that make sense?”
He brushes his knuckles along my jaw and nods with a half-smile that says I may be onto something.
God I hope so.
My head falls into his chest and his arms wrap around me, holding me to him like I’m precious. He kisses the top of my head.
“We should go cash in your chips. Get them out of your bag and then feed you. Do you want me to take care of that?” I nod into him. I love how he knows exactly what I need. “Come with me, sweetheart.”
And I do.
I might just follow Ryan Grant anywhere.
17
Kate
* * *
The mild October air outside the casino is like a balm on my overheated skin and muddled brain. Ryan holds my hand, swinging it a little between us as we walk down the Strip. I imagine we make quite the odd couple.
He’s so tall and I’m so short in comparison.
“What are you in the mood to eat?” He’s as casual as ever, acting as though I didn’t just have some sort of minor psychotic event back there.
Why does he have to be so wonderful? I mean, I’m not looking for judgment or anything, but he makes me seem so…normal, when I feel anything but.
I think on this for a moment. “I want a Vegas-style buffet.” He turns to look at me. “You know, the kind with everything from caviar to egg rolls to breakfast. I’m talking a full boat, self-indulgent, glutinous dining experience.”
He’s giving me that crooked smile that I like so much, and his green, bespectacled eyes are laughing at me. “You got it,” he winks, and I can’t help but beam at him. Is it wrong that I want to climb him like a tree in the middle of the sidewalk? Probably.
Ryan doesn’t miss a beat, just keeps walking, so I follow. Sure enough, a few minutes later, we’re headed into Caesars. The buffet is as promised. An all-encompassing dining experience. We eat a million different kinds of food and talk about nothing of importance, and it is beyond perfect.
So perfect, in fact, that when we leave to head back to our hotel, I want to die.
“I need to throw up everywhere,” I groan, holding my severely bloated belly. “Thank god I’m wearing yoga pants,” I look up at him. “That’s all I’m saying.”
Ryan laughs out, but I know he’s feeling this hurt too. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much in my life.”
“Ditto,” I groan again, rubbing my food baby.
“Do you want to cab it back to the hotel?”
“No, I need to burn off the eight thousand calories I just consumed.”
“Right,” he deadpans. “That should only take us twenty years. What are you going to do with the money you won?”
I shrug. “I don’t suppose you’d take it to even the expense score?”
He shakes his head with a smirk. “No way, I was promised sexual favors for that.”
I snap my fingers in an aw-shucks way. “Ah, that’s right. Damn. Then I guess I’ll save it, or donate it, or both. I really don’t know.”
We make it back to our room, and I swear we both waddle our way into the bedroom, where I proceed to flop down onto the bed. He climbs in beside me, pulling me up so I’m sitting next to him, leaning against the headboard and his arm.
“Don’t you think it’s weird that we met once upon a time as kids, only to meet again as adults and go on this insane trip together?”
“I guess so,” he shrugs a shoulder. “You haven’t changed much since you were six, you know.” He looks down at me with his crooked smile.
“How can you remember me so well? It was ages ago.”
“You did make quite the impression—” I can hear the smile in his voice, “—especially knocking that huge chocolate cake onto the floor.”