CHAPTER 88

I don't wait for permission to kiss her. Since the second she walked toward me in that dress, looking as if she'd stepped out of my own personal fantasy-not a sexual one, though I could make a million of those by fading out the crowd and taking her right here on the sand-but one that belongs to my heart. For a long time, I was too afraid to want those things because I knew I'd never get them. But I have. And I won't ever forget how lucky I am for her. For us. I'll never lose sight of what it means to not only have her in my life, but to share my life with her. The good and the bad, the triumphs and the failures, the choices and the uncertainties. We can't know what will happen. If we're lucky, we know who we want it to happen with. I span her waist with my hands, her ribs expanding under my touch as I bend my lips to hers. She's open and eager when I press my tongue against the seam of her mouth. I dully register the cheer and applause going up from our guests. "Get a room," someone shouts. I've been waiting a long fucking time for this. I'm not the kid I was when I stumbled into Wicked. I wanted to save that place for the future kids like me, but I also wanted to save it for us. As a testament to our past. I don't need to. Even if I'm not destined to have a place in its future, I have a place in hers. Her welcoming warmth, along with the feel of the ring heavy on my finger, is everything in this moment. Her hips are flush with mine, and I want her so fucking badly. Not because I can't control myself. Because she's my wife. I could grace a thousand stages, record a million songs, and none of it would compare to a smile, a breath, a night with her. Any man who thinks he loves a woman less once he's married needs his head checked. "When's dinner?" Jacob hollers, and I finally pull back. "This isn't over," I murmur against Emily's swollen lips. She arches a brow. "I hope not. It's only the start." I grin because it's true. Later we're gathered around a long table on the beach. Nearby, Frank and the others are set up with their instruments. Jacob's getting his own footage, zooming in on Frank singing. At a break, Frank crooks a finger at me, and I excuse myself from my wife long enough to head over. "Well, never thought I'd be playing your wedding," he says. "You and me both." He nods slowly. "I'm putting in a word for you. The other artists are too." He holds up his phone, showing the page with the video Jacob shot, the comments piling on it. "The terms of the deal already expired. It's over." Frank's eyes gleam. "You'd be surprised." "Don't tell me you're secretly a good guy." "I'm not. But maybe I give a shit what happens at that company. Like you said, it's in my best interests." I suddenly realize what a big deal it was for him to fly halfway around the world on a day's notice. "I don't think that's it. I think there's something else you care about at that company." Before Frank can answer, Eddie comes over, a strange look on his face. "I got an email from Wicked." I hold up a hand. "Don't tell me. I'll leave it in your hands. If you want to see it through or not, you have my money and my confidence. I'm out for my honeymoon and until the tour." Emily's drinking wine and laughing with Andie and Avery. Jacob is trying to shoot a video of them. I head toward Harry at the pop-up bar. "It means a lot to have you here." "I don't do weddings. But the two of you make it look like something worth aspiring to." A ghost flickers through Harry's dark eyes, so fast most people wouldn't notice. "Harry, I know-" "Don't mention it. I have an entertainment empire to distract me. Being a billionaire playboy without a care in the world is a lot of work." The English accent makes the words drier. He lifts a glass in a smirking toast, and I clink mine to his. My friend's attention drifts past me, lingers. "Ah. You're in trouble." I turn to see Emily and Rica watching us, Emily's smile waning and Rica not smiling at all. "Or you are," I joke. "Impossible. I only piss off women I know." Shaking my head, I excuse myself and go back to my wife. "I need to borrow this one," I tell Rica, who seems content to yield my bride to me. "Where are we going?" "Dancing," I murmur. "You don't dance." "I do with you." I take her in my arms and tug her across the sand toward the water, stopping short of where the sea laps at the shoreline. "Do you remember the first time we danced?" she murmurs as she steps closer, her dress brushing my suit. I press a finger to the necklace she's wearing, the one I busted my ass to fix, before sneaking a guilty look at her face. "You'd better remind me." "It was a wedding. Dad and Haley's, actually." "Really?" "Yes. After the reception," she prods, drawing out each syllable as if it might jog my memory. "I see." I nod slowly, pretending to catch on. My hands lift to her face, stroking her skin lightly. "The band was playing jazz. I took off to the gazebo, buzzed on champagne I didn't like, and there you were. Barefoot and looking like a fallen angel. One I'd promised I wouldn't touch." Emily's eyes brim with emotion. "I wished you'd kissed me that night. It would've lasted me the entire summer away from you." "If I'd kissed you that night, I wouldn't have left for the summer." Her trembling breath is enough for me to live off. But in case it's not, I brush my lips over hers. She's sweet and edgy, familiar and new, and I thread my hands into her hair to tug her even closer. We're surrounded by friends and family, dancing on the edge of the earth, and my heart is pounding. Not for them, not for where we are. For the woman in my arms. The one who completes me. "You're here now," she whispers against my lips. "We both are. No more excuses, no more take backs." I can't swallow my grin as I thread her fingers through mine so our rings lie against one another. "It's you and me, Six. Then. Now. Always." Her lips curve, and I kiss her again.