When our plane lands in Las Vegas, Owen leads me to the baggage carousel where he grabs our bags. We head outside where there's a long black limo waiting. The driver loads our bags into the trunk as we climb into the back seat. As the vehicle begins moving, Owen pours us each a glass of sparkling juice. "Since I no longer drink, I requested a special bottle of juice for us," he says, handing me a glass.
Smiling, I take the glass with a smile. "Thank you."
Placing the bottle down, he turns towards me. "Let's have a good time," he says.
"Cheers," I say, clinking my glass against his.
We sip on our juice as the limo merges with the traffic heading into the heart of Las Vegas. About fifteen minutes later, we arrive at the MGM Grand. Excitement bubbles within me as we enter the hotel. The d
