Page 17 of The Loophole

“Tell that to the plane.” It seemed very rickety and not at all capable of failing to kill us all. Words started tumbling out of me as my panic rose. “This all feels like a huge mistake. Humans are land animals! We’re not made for this!”

But then, just like that, we rose up off the ground. It took my stomach a moment to catch up with me, and as soon as it did, the giddiness returned. I laughed and yelled, “I was wrong, we’re totally meant to fly! This is amazing!”

When I turned to smile at him, Bryson was watching me curiously, like I was some new species he’d just discovered.

6

Bryson

Embry was unlike anyone I’d ever met in my entire life. He fully owned and freely broadcast every emotion, with zero fucks to give about what anyone thought of him.

He was incredibly enthusiastic, too. He treated a walk through the airport like a trip to Disneyland, absolutely delighting over something as mundane as a moving walkway.

Then again, maybe it wasn’t mundane at all. Maybe I was just jaded.

Once we were in the plane and it began taxiing down the runway, I was sure he was going to have a complete meltdown. He gripped my hand and yelled something about land animals, and I started wondering what I’d do if he broke free of his seatbelt and ran for the nearest exit. At least he was little, so I was fairly confident I could tackle him before he wrenched the door open.

But then the plane lifted off, and it was like flipping a switch from panicked to elated. He laughed and shouted, totally oblivious to the fact that the people around us were staring. After that, he twisted around so he could look out the window and narrated absolutely everything he saw for the entire flight.

It should have been annoying, but instead his enthusiasm made me smile. It was refreshing, and a welcome change from what the rest of my life was like.

I was so serious, all the time. Had I always been this way?

I wasn’t sure. I barely remembered who I used to be, before the last four years brought me to my knees.

When we landed in Las Vegas, Embry was surprised by how different the small airport was, compared to SFO. After collecting our luggage, we fetched our rental car. I’d gone with a bright yellow convertible, because I assumed Embry would enjoy that. His shriek of delight told me I’d made the right call.

I decided to stop at the “Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas” sign, because I figured my travel companions would want a photo op. I had no intention of getting in any of the shots, but Vee told me, “You have to be in the pictures! They’ll help build credibility for your fake marriage.”

He was right, it was a good idea, but it turned out to be challenging—not for Embry, who was his usual happy, smiling self. But when I tried to pose with him, I was as stiff as a mannequin. I started off standing rigidly beside him, and when Vee suggested some physical contact, I awkwardly draped my arm around Embry’s shoulders.

Vee lowered his phone with a frown. “This really isn’t working. How soon are you taking Embry to meet your grandfather?”

“They’ll meet at my family’s Christmas retreat, which is in about two weeks.”

“You’ve got a lot of work to do,” Vee muttered. “Absolutely no one is going to believe you two are a couple if this is what you’re bringing to the table.”

“You just need a little time to warm up to me,” Embry said, as he took several paces backwards. “I also think, instead of posing, we should take some action shots.” I had no idea what he meant by that. He stopped some distance away from me and asked, “Have you ever seen the movie Dirty Dancing?”

“Yeah, a long time ago.”

A smile spread across his face. “Can you guess what scene we’re about to recreate?”

He started running at me in a flat-out sprint as I shouted, “Wait!”

He didn’t slow down though, and when he reached me I did my best to grab him by the waist and hoist him into the air. For maybe two glorious seconds, we actually pulled it off. I held him over my head, he stuck his arms out, and both of us burst out laughing in giddy disbelief.

A moment later, I lost my balance and tipped over backwards, landing on the ground with an, “Oof,” as Embry crashed down on top of me.

He pushed himself up so we were face to face and exclaimed, “We actually did it!” Vee leaned in and snapped a photo, and Embry asked him, “Did you get a picture of our Dirty Dancing moment?”

Vee tapped the screen and turned it to face us. He’d captured an absolutely incredible shot of Embry and me at the pinnacle of that lift, laughing and triumphant with the Las Vegas sign directly behind us. I told him, “Great job! That shot is amazing.”

“I knew an action shot was the way to go,” Embry said, as he climbed off me.

Next up, I drove us down the Strip on our way to the Clark County Marriage License Bureau. Predictably, Embry wasmesmerized by the huge hotel-casinos, and I was glad to see his reaction to the one I’d selected. “Look how cool that one is,” he gushed. “I can’t believe they have a full-size Eiffel Tower!” I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was actually half-scale, compared to the original.

Our destination was considerably less interesting. When we reached the county offices, we took a number, did some paperwork, and eventually left with a marriage license. On our way back to the car, I asked Embry, “Which themed wedding venue did you end up choosing?”