CHAPTER 86
The Wedding Day
I wake before dawn. Timothy's still wrapped around me, and for the first time since we arrived, I'm awake and he's still here. It takes until I shift off the chaise to notice the pain in my ankle has gone down. I carefully put weight on it, pleased that it can bear almost all of me, and go to get dressed. Excitement shivers through me as I leave the villa, pulling the door quietly shut, and head to the beach behind our villa, needing a moment to myself. The sunrise turns the sky soft pinks and golds. It's early, and today is my wedding day. The anticipation has my lungs nearly bursting. I can't believe it's here. A man in black is walking barefoot down the beach, but otherwise it's deserted. A spike of pain shoots up my foot-not my ankle, I realize when I curse and drop to my knee. Just a shell in the sand, scratching enough to leave a tiny white line on the side of my big toe, next to my pedicure. "You're up early," a rough, masculine voice says. Harrison King is standing over me, wearing black shorts and nothing else save a faint sheen of sweat as if he's been out for a run. The casual dress contrasts with his perfect cropped hair. His bone structure looks as if it could cut more than the shell I stepped on. "So are you." He holds out a hand, and I take it, rising gingerly. Whatever he does for fitness, he does it with admirable dedication. You don't get in that kind of shape without rigor. My gaze drops to an outline across his pec-not a tattoo, but a scar. He clears his throat, and I force my attention up. "I heard about your adventures last night," he says. "Admittedly, I'm surprised Timothy pulled out of the acquisition. The man has resolve." I start along the beach, the sand spreading my toes, and he falls into step next to me. "I'm sorry he lost the deal, but I'm relieved there will be no more lawyers on our wedding or honeymoon." "Deals aren't made by lawyers. They're made by humans. Good ones. Bad ones. Every kind in between." "What kind are you?" I hear myself ask. I'm thinking about Rica and the fact I didn't tell her who Harrison was at the first opportunity. Harrison turns to face me, the breeze blowing his shorts. The corners of his eyes crinkle, making their blue depths more piercing. "Haven't you read a tabloid? I'm the rich, self-indulgent, fucked-up kind." Before I can decipher the emotion on his face, he turns and starts back down the beach. "You're probably wondering why I called you here," I say when everyone's gathered around a long table at breakfast. "You want to make sure no one's late today," Jacob jokes, and Andie shoves him. Dad, Haley, Sophia, and Mason are at the end. Jacob's got a shoulder slung over the back of his chair, Rica and Andie on either side of him. Avery's chewing on a piece of pineapple. Harrison's next to Timothy near my end of the table. Even Frank and the other two Wicked artists are here, which is the point. Timothy shifts out of his chair and crosses to me, his dark brows pulled together. "Six, what's going on?" "I have an idea. Trust me." He nods before taking his seat again. I clear my throat. "We're here together. We're in all of this together. We don't know what will happen with Wicked. But the least we can do is give these artists a chance to do what they do best." I round the table, stopping in front of them. "Timothy and my dad invited you here because they wanted to convince you they were the best people to take over Wicked. They wanted you to invite them in, but we haven't invited you in, not really. I want to ask if you guys would play at the wedding today." They exchange a look, but it's Frank who speaks. "All this for a free wedding band?" he drawls. Flash, the woman, clears her throat. "I think it's a great idea. It's been stressful as hell not knowing what will happen with the label." I cross to Frank. "This might be moot at this point because Timothy and my dad let the deal lapse. Because ownership thinks they can get another offer, which they probably won't." "A company is only as good as its people. Even if you want to go it alone and look out for yourself, there will come a day you need someone to have your back. Timothy and my dad aren't perfect, but they look out for artists in a way executives like Zeke never will." Frank frowns, looking past my shoulder. "What if it's not about the lawyers and the fine print?" I turn back to the table. "What if we record it and stream it so the other Wicked artists see it too?" Jacob shoots up in his chair. "Wait. You're going to let me film something?" "Thanks for taking care of this," I say carefully to Rica as I step into the dress at her and Andie's villa. "It's just a dress." Her voice is flat, but she inspects it critically, her gaze lingering on every inch of fabric before she tugs gently at the hem to even it. I turn to face her so when she straightens she can't avoid my gaze. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Harrison." Rica looks gorgeous in a white, sleeveless linen dress that gathers above each shoulder, diving low on her chest. It skims smoothly over her hips and falls to the floor in a soft drape that makes her look younger. The bruises are gone from her wrists, but I still remember them. "You don't want me to ruin the wedding by bringing it up." She exhales, head swiveling as her gaze searches the room, unseeing. "Timothy's been wanting to see this guy forever. I thought if I could get him here, everything would be great. But of course, life doesn't work that way. It's not perfect, and I get that. So, if you want to go over there and tell him right now, you have my support. Whatever you need from me, I'm here for you." Her lips purse. "I will confront him about it." I touch her arm. "Good. I have your back. I swear." Before she can answer, we're interrupted. "Stop being serious!" Andie demands, descending on us with glasses of wine. Everyone is dressed in white except for me, and I love it. Andie's dress is a flowy halter style. Avery's is sleeveless with a bandeau top that shows off her shoulders. "Knock knock," Haley calls from the door before entering. She's wearing white too, and Sophia's in pink. My stepmom pulls up just inside the doorway, her hand pressed to her stomach as her eyes fill. "Emily. Oh my God." Haley's reaction-especially given how rational she typically is-makes my throat tighten. "It's good?" I ask, holding out the skirt and turning in the mirror. "It's stunning. You're stunning." Rica, Andie, and Avery duck out with an excuse about checking on flowers. I turn back to the mirror, angling my head to see that my hair's still all in place. It's half pinned up and half down, the top portion secured with white jeweled pins that glint in the light. Together with the dress, it feels like a recognition of the past and a promise of the future. The rich color sends emotion swirling through me every time I see it, every time I touch the silky fabric. Haley stops behind me, her eyes shining in the mirror. "I still remember the first time I met you backstage at one of your dad's shows. I'd wanted to see you for what felt like forever even though it was only a few weeks." My lips curve. "Really?" She nods. "You were the most important thing to him. You still are. There's a piece of his heart nothing else can touch." Haley cuts a look over her shoulder at Sophia, who's playing with a tiny toy truck. "I can't wait for you guys to have kids." I laugh. "Me either." Her eyes widen, and I bite my cheek. "We're not trying. But we're not not trying." After last night, we decided. "Once Timothy's back from tour, he's not going anywhere for a while. And I'll be wrapping up my show. We can stay in New York or move to LA... wherever we want to be." "That's wonderful. If you ever need a place to stay-" "With a convenient recording studio and a pool?" I quip, and she smiles. "I know we will. It feels like home for me, and I know it does for Timothy too." Her eyes fill again, and she swipes at them before she heads to keep a closer eye on Sophia. I reach for my phone to turn it off. It's filling with congratulations and well-wishes. I smile as I tuck the phone away and reach for my shoes. I step into them, grateful they're wedges. My ankle still twinges a little but nothing like last night. The doctor was right about that bruise, but I can live with a live bit of pain from the straps pressing in. And the dress will keep the mark out of the pictures. With one last look in the mirror, I suck in a breath. I look good. But more than that, I feel good. I'm going to meet my husband, whom I couldn't love anymore. There are things unsettled-like the Wicked deal and whatever's between Rica and Harrison. Still, I can set those aside for the moment and focus on the beauty of this instant. Except... I frown, scanning the room as I press my hand to my chest above the dress. "Looking for something?" My dad's voice has me looking toward the doorway. Relief floods me-both at his form and the chain he holds up. I race to him. "My necklace!" The chain is new and the glass is repaired so cleanly it's almost impossible to see where it was cracked. "Timothy fixed it. Don't ask me how." Dad's gruff voice telling me the man I love saved the necklace he gave me the first summer we were together, back when everything was beautiful and angst-filled and chaotic, has my chest aching. "Thanks." I throw my arms around Dad's neck. When I pull back, I realize he's wearing a linen suit. "Wow. You look like you're going to bet on a polo match or something." "Hell no. I'm not going anywhere. Not today. Not for all the money in the damn world." His face goes slack, his eyes sad. "What's wrong?" The biggest rock star of all of them shakes his head slowly, surveying me from my half-pinned hair to my wedge-clad toes under the dress. "Nothing." My stomach rises into my throat at the emotion in my dad's voice. He's quick to anger, quick to fight, quick to defend. This version of him is new and disconcerting. "All I wanted was for you to grow up better than I did. And I might've failed you in that." I shake my head. "You didn't-" He cuts me off. "I don't know if I did or didn't. But looking at you, seeing the woman you've become... I want to take credit for it, but I can't. It's all you. I couldn't be prouder, and I have no damn right to take credit for you." My smile wavers as I touch his shoulders, peering up into his stunned face. "You should take some credit. I wanted you to be proud, always. And I knew you loved me. Even when things were hard between us, when I was angry with you or trying to ignore you or wishing you were different, I knew deep down that you did. That's what made it harder." "I had a rough patch a few months ago after you and Timothy came for the holidays," he admits. "What? Why?" I reach for the necklace, and he holds it away, motioning at me to turn. I do, reluctantly facing the mirror. He loops the necklace around my throat, carefully letting the ring and pendant settle against my chest. "Because you didn't need me anymore. You haven't for a while. I think taking over Wicked was something I've wanted to do for a long time, but your independence made it more pressing. I want to be needed, but no one needs you forever. I'd never say it to anyone else, but I like being needed, kid." With shaking hands, he fastens the clasp behind my neck and lifts my hair away. Before he can step back, I grab his thick wrists. His surprised gaze finds mine in the mirror. "Maybe I don't need you to make sure I eat dinner, like Mason, or tie my shoes, like Sophia," I tease. "Maybe I don't even need your advice on how to play guitar or be a musician, like Timothy. But I need you in my life because you are an example of what is possible in this world. And I need that even in the moments I don't ask for it. Especially when I don't ask for it." His eyes, the same shade as mine, are glassy. He wraps his arms around me, and I lean back against him. A sound from the door has us both looking up. Jacob grins. "Sorry to interrupt this beautiful moment, but if you're late two days in a row, Mr. C"-he nods at my dad-"my sixth sense says Haley's going to murder someone." "You're not really psychic. You just play one on TV," my dad gripes, but he steps back. "You'd be surprised how much it rubs off," Jacob says, then cuts a look at me. He looks a little sad. "You look great, Manatee. Ty's a lucky guy." I cross to him and stretch up to wrap my arms around him. "I'm a lucky woman. Not only because I have him, because I have the best friends in the world." I pull back to stare him dead in the eyes. "We're not going anywhere, Jacob." His eyes crinkle at the corners. "Come on, stop hitting on me on your wedding day." I laugh as I pull back and take my dad's arm. "You've played sold-out shows to fifty thousand. You sure you're ready for this?" I ask him. "As close as I'm
