More than Distance

27

My chest clenched up at the remembered pain of hearing the news and of all the hours spent in the hospital with her, staring at her ashen face and trembling hands, watching her glorious curls disappear, seeing her bright eyes dim. I’d thought I would lose her during those long months and came to realize how much I cared for her. Not as the little sister I’d never had, but as something more. Once she got better, those feelings only grew, even though I could never act on them. I thought going away for a few years would fix that problem, but obviously not. Years and distance had done nothing to dilute the strength of the attraction between us.

Carla checked the map again. “Get off at this exit.”

I followed her directions, and within minutes we found ourselves in a parking lot. Only after I’d turned off the car did I spot the sign in front of us.

Oh hell no.

“Are you sure this is the place?”

Her mouth hung open. She checked the scavenger hunt, then looked at the map again, and then nodded slowly. “This is the right address, but...”

Another black car identical to ours pulled up and a couple—the intense blond ones—jumped out and ran toward the building at full speed. My competitive nature kicked in and I unhooked my seat belt, throwing open the car door. “This must be it. Hurry.”

Carla didn’t hesitate and launched out of the car. We ran for the bright white building labelled with a flashing neon sign that proclaimed it as the Desert Magic Wedding Chapel.

Once inside, a guy in a cheap-looking suit with a pink bowtie smiled at us and handed Carla a card. “Welcome to Las Vegas and your first challenge.”

There was no sign of the other couple. I leaned over Carla’s shoulder and read the top of the card, where it listed the name of the challenge: Race To The Altar.

Oh s**t.

Carla read the rest out loud, while a camera crew filmed us from the side. “For this challenge, you’ll need to get dressed up as bride and groom and undergo a wedding ceremony worthy of Las Vegas. Don’t worry, it won’t be a real one.”

“Thank god,” I muttered.

She ignored my comment and kept reading a list of things we had to do to receive the location of tonight’s final destination: get dressed, get hitched, carry the bride down the aisle, and eat wedding cake. When she was done, she let her hand with the card fall and looked up at me, panic in her eyes. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

I was right there with her. What kind of f*****g comedian thought this fake wedding would be a good idea? I’d known we would face some romance-themed challenges, but I hadn’t expected this. But there was no time to stress over that now. We were playing a game and we had to get it together or we’d get left behind. I was not going to let Carla get kicked off in the first challenge, no matter what it took. Even if that meant getting married.

I took Carla’s hand. “Will you do me the honor of being my pretend wife?”

An unexpected laugh burst out of her. “Yes!”

We were sent to a room where different wedding dresses and tuxedos hung on racks. Without hesitation, Carla and I ran to the racks and began searching for something in our size. My options were tuxedos with sequins, pastel colors, or hearts all over them. The cheap fabric was even more offensive than the outdated styles. In the end the only one that would fit me was a baby blue polyester suit with bell bottom trousers.

Kill me now.

Carla’s wedding dress choices were just as over the top and her options were limited even more because she was so tall. Still, she managed to grab a dress and ran behind the privacy screen. I caught a glimpse of her pretty feet under it as she kicked off her shoes, and then her orange dress hit the floor. It was enough to make my mouth go dry. I imagined her behind that screen as she changed: her long legs, her smooth skin, her delicious curves. I shoved those thoughts aside with a flash of guilt and rushed behind the other screen to change.

When we emerged, we looked like something out of an eighties romantic comedy. Me, with my baby blue bell bottoms and a jacket cut that hadn’t been fashionable since before I was born, plus a purple sequined bow tie and red cowboy boots. And Carla, wearing a giant poof of a dress with tulle, sequins, and massive bows that lit up with white LED lights in a pattern that threatened to give anyone attending the wedding a seizure. She still looked good though. The neckline of it was low, giving me a flash of her ample cleavage. Even in the hideous dress she was the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen. If anything, it only made her beauty shine even brighter.

“Oh my gosh.” She burst out laughing. “Your tux!”

I scowled. “Don’t even start. Your dress has more lights than your mom’s Christmas trees.” She clasped a hand over her mouth, but couldn’t stop giggling. I offered her my arm. “Shall we go get hitched, my twinkling princess?”

“Yes, my pastel prince.” She slid her arm into mine.

A woman handed Carla flowers before sending us into the chapel. Loud music rang out all around us as we walked down the aisle toward—I s**t you not—an Elvis drag queen who stood under an arch decorated with neon lights and fake roses. The whole thing was f*****g surreal, and before I knew it, I was at the altar facing Carla.