Several months of domestic bliss later and Enrique and I have a system. We fight and we argue and I occasionally take away his grading and make him do something fun, but we have each other's backs. And today, before we head off to Honduras to see the rest of his family next week, we are getting married in front of mine.

Our parents insisted that since they missed the first one, they got to come to both our church ceremony and reception. Which means our parents have been together for at least a week planning this wedding and they'll never leave each other's sides until this whole thing is, to hear them tell it, done right.

But our idea of 'done right' might differ slightly. So when the night before the wedding arrives and Mom makes me sleep in a different room for some sort of silly tradition, I wait until everyone is sleeping and sneak into his bed. And on the morning of my second wedding, I wake up wrapped in my first husband's arms.

Good thing they're the same man, I guess.

His eyes flutter open as I shift beneath him.

"Good morning, beautiful."

"Good morning. I was just thinking to myself how nice it is to wake up next to you when I know who you are, as compared to the first time."

"Ah, yes, where you told me I'm a terrible actor."

"Was I wrong, though?"

"No." He kisses my forehead and pulls me in closer.

The air smells of freshly fallen rain and the birds twitter in the trees. The sun must be up, but the cover of the forest, the mountain, and the thick grey curtains mean I can pretend it's still night, closing my eyes and nuzzling into his chest, breathing in the soft scent of pine and something maybe lemony.

"You smell like a forest," I say without thinking.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"I don't know. Maybe it is if you don't want to smell like a forest. But I don't think it's a bad thing."

His heart beats in tune with mine, a steady ba-dum against my ear resting on his chest.

"I could get used to this," he sighs, hand drawing circles on the back of my hand.

Twisting around in all sorts of ways gets me nowhere. His determination not to meet my eyes is amazing. So I quite literally take matters into my own hands and reach up to rest my palm against his cheek, guiding his face toward mine and kissing him gently.

"Enrique. You don't need to be embarrassed about wanting to wake up next to your wife. It's nice. I like it."

"Me too. And as much as I'd like to stay here with you, I think I have to go start getting ready for our second big day."

"We don't have to. We could just stay here forever."

"Money is necessary for life. And so is food," I add, realizing that is probably the most important reason we can't stay inside forever.

"I might have understated how rich my brother is by just a little."

"Okay you are definitely going to have to tell me more about your family before I meet the rest of them," I say. "And, if we're going to rely on your very wealthy brother for sustenance, you should probably tell me how long I've got before he cuts us off and makes us come out of the house"

"If we're very careful, he might not even notice us for several years."

"Hmm," I pretend to ponder the idea of staying here, even though I know we cannot. "I still think they might notice us missing our own wedding."

"Your brother isn't even here," I reason. "He's off being all important in Europe."

"But my mother will tell him when she makes him speak to her every third day or so. I fear it is inevitable that we'll be found out."

"Which leaves us with no choice. I guess we have to get married."

"Again."

"I'd do it every day for the rest of my life if it meant I got to keep you." I place a quick kiss on his cheek. "Now get out of here, the bride has to make herself beautiful."

He just stares at me, blinking as a small smile creeps up his cheeks.

Right. I'm in his room.

* * *

When the ceremony is over, we barely peck on the lips because I can feel everyone watching me. But his hand warms mine as we walk down the aisle and out of the church together. "Well, I guess that's it. We're officially Mr. and Mrs. Calderon," I declare once we're safely in the limousine.

"We've been officially Mr. and Mrs. Calderon for almost a year now," he laughs. "And you have me sitting in my living room proofreading grant applications in my spare time. So I know it."

"I mean, I officially went down to the office today and had my drivers' licence and passport changed. I am officially Mrs. Calderon in every way possible. Is your mom going to hate me for that?"

"I think you may get the lecture about the value of Spanish naming conventions, but you should be alright otherwise. My family is crazy, but they are very into bringing the in-laws in."

"Good," I smile, looping my arm through his.

"Are you ready to party?" he asks.

"Almost," I answer. "I think, to stay true to form, I need a little dress change."

"True to form?"

"On the night I met you—" I start. "You don't remember this?"

His teeth find his lower lip and his brow furrows. "No, I don't think so."

"The night we met, I got a drink spilled on my dress and some scary guy threatened me and I raced out of there to change into a dry dress. That's when I met you."

"You were the girl in the elevator?" he asks, eyes widening. "With the shoe?"

"You didn't remember that?"

"I remember seeing you that night but for some reason I thought it was two different— and suddenly that dress change is making a lot of sense."

I can't hold the laugh in as the limousine turns up the street to the grand hotel that will host us for the evening.

"I'm glad I met you, Mrs. Calderon."

I will never tire of being called Mrs. Calderon. It feels like home.

We dance and eat cupcakes and marvel at my quick change dress I'd hidden from absolutely everyone except the woman who secured it for me: supermodel Emiko.

It sparkles silver and gold and blue even under the low light of the dance floor and it doesn't take long before my shoes are abandoned so I can dance my little heart out without any blisters.

I smile to myself. Blisters will forever remind me of that night I climbed a mountain, A literal mountain. Just so I could get to Enrique.

The moment I knew he was the one for me.

And now, I'm an old married woman and it's time to pass the luck along.

Divya takes the microphone to ask anyone who wants to fight for the bouquet to please make their way to the dance floor.

I wait until the crowd assembles and put my back to the group, waiting for them to call out, "Three, two, one!" before I bend down and toss the bouquet over my shoulder just like I'd practiced.

Cheers erupt from the crowd behind me and I turn to see Lorena holding the flowers.

"I just came to give you your phone," she mutters.

Leave it to Lorena to be in just the right place at the right time and stumble into catching the bouquet. If only she'd been so lucky with her love life.

While everyone is busy congratulating Lorena or grooving to the Macarena, Enrique pulls me into him and kisses my temple. "It's nice, having a wedding we can remember."

"It is," I agree. "But there are many things from our relationship I'll remember forever. I'll never look at the night sky the same again."

"Or mountains," he adds.

"Or that. Have you ever regretted getting married before you were ready?"

"Where is this coming from?"

"I don't know. I was thinking about it, I guess. The girls gave me a little pre-wedding spa day but you didn't really get to have a bachelor party. I don't know, I guess I just wondered if you ever wish you had that."

"Honestly?" He looks over and waits for my response.

"I'm not sure anymore," I laugh.

"Honestly, no. I mean, we did meet while I was at a bachelor party, so in a way, I did get one, I just didn't realize what I was doing at the time."

"I guess when you put it like that."

"We have our whole lives ahead of us to do crazy stuff. Who ever said being married meant you couldn't have strange cocktails in Vegas?"

I can't help the shudder that flows through me. "I never—and I mean, never—want to see another Vegas cocktail again."

"What about a Roatan cocktail?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there next week," I laugh. "Are the cocktails any good where you're from?"

"Not really. But we are getting married."

"Again."

"Well, you know what they say, third time's the charm."

I don't need a third time to know it's right.

The glow of the light bounces off the windows, but I can still see the stars shining down over us. We're going to be just fine. Even if I turn into a pumpkin at midnight.

Who needs Cinderella? 

~ * ~ Author's Note ~ * ~

And that's a wrap on Vegas Knot! Nothing like cutting it down to the wire on Wattys submissions, eh? But it is done! Keep reading for a look inside book two, or hop on over to my profile authorelizasolares to start reading the first chapter of Roatan Plunge right now!