held it there as though infusing his emotions into the metal. “I commit myself to you fully.”
Ethan looked down at the circle made by Max’s fingers and the ring. He promised himself to never forget the image.
“Now, Ethan, repeat after me: with this ring, I thee wed, and commit myself to you fully.”
Ethan slid the ring he held over Max’s finger. It fit perfectly. It looked perfect. You’re mine, and now everyone will know it.
“With this ring,” he said as he lifted his gaze to Max’s, “I thee wed, and commit myself to you fully.”
Emotions raced through Max’s eyes. Ethan shared every one of them.
The officiant nodded. “By the power vested in me by the great city of Las Vegas, I now pronounce you husband and husband. Please give a cheer for Mr. and Mr. Winter-Poole!”
Ethan laughed as Max raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by the call for a ‘cheer.’ But Max’s skepticism didn’t dampen the brightness of his smile as he leaned forward. The kiss he gave Ethan was chaste and sweet. It immediately ranked as one of Ethan’s all-time favorites.
“Husband,” Ethan whispered against Max’s lips.
“Husband,” Max whispered back.
It wasn’t the ceremony of Ethan’s dreams. He didn’t think it was anyone’s ideal ceremony. But it was official, and Max’s parents were there for it, and so it was better than good.
“That was quite...memorable,” he heard Marcela whisper to Philip.
Max’s eyes glinted with amusement as Ethan grinned.
After the paperwork was signed and Max and Ethan were informed they could pick up their certificate the next day from the marriage bureau, they took Max’s parents to celebratory high tea at the Mandarin Oriental, where the Pooles were staying.
Marcela, to everyone’s surprise, had purchased the photography package with the DVD, though she’d passed on the special effects filter option. She kept the disc beside her plate as if she were afraid of losing track of it.
“My son is married,” she murmured more than once as they enjoyed scones, finger sandwiches, and petit fours.
Ethan laced his fingers with Max’s atop the table. “The real ceremony will be a lot better,” he assured Marcela.
She waved him off airily before reaching for her tea. “I was witness to the genuine affair. My son is married.” She smiled at him. “To you. I have high expectations for you, Ethan.”
“I hope I live up to them.”
Philip Poole calmly spread double cream over his scone. “You will.”
Ethan gulped, proud and surprised to receive such an endorsement from the intimidating man, but a bit worried, too, about meeting expectations. Fortunately, Philip didn’t follow-up with any discussion of business—not even the expansion of The Elite Poole Worldwide even though it was a joint project for him and Max. Max had previously admitted to not trusting his father’s suggestions for properties in London, but Ethan could tell that those worries had vanished. By coming all the way out here and showing their hand, Philip and Marcela Poole had proved themselves to be the parental allies that Max probably never knew he needed.
At the conclusion of the tea, the itch to be alone with Max was nearly unbearable. But Ethan didn’t know how to pull him away from his parents without being obvious about his intentions. It turned out he had a friend in Philip Poole.
“We’ll make plans for dinner tomorrow,” the older man announced as they all stood just outside the restaurant.
Marcela frowned. “Why not tonight?”
Philip cleared his throat. “Because they will be engaged in other business.”
“What? What could they—oh. Oh, my.” Rather than cover her face in secondhand-embarrassment, Marcela shocked Ethan by turning a sly smile on him and Max. “I’d forgotten. Yes, yes, don’t let us interfere with the consummation of your marriage.”
“Mother...” Max sighed.
“What? This marriage won’t be legitimate until you claim your husband, Maxmillian. I’m European, or had you forgotten? You’ve let the Americans rub their prudishness on you.” She glanced at Ethan with a smirk he hoped he never saw from her again. “Though there’s one American in particular whom you should insist rubs upon you—”
“Thank you for this afternoon,” Max said smoothly, acting as though he hadn’t heard her.
“Don’t waste more time, son.” Philip pointed at the escalators. “Ethan has been anxious to leave for a good fifteen minutes now. Go take care of him.” Unlike his wife, he had the grace to blush.
“Oh, god,” Ethan groaned, mortified.
Max pressed a hand to the small of his back. “Indeed, I agree we’d better go. I’ll be in touch later, Father.”
“Have fun!” Marcela cooed as they rode down