The Complete Rockstar Series
“I can’t, Gav. I thought I could but I just can’t.” Mitch fumbles with the slate gray tie around his neck, yanking at it uselessly.
“Stop. I’ll get it off for you if you’ll stop touching it.” Gavin swats at Mitch’s trembling hands.
“Fine,” Mitch hisses from between clenched teeth. “Hurry up.”
Gavin scowls at his fiancé. With a huff, he deftly unknots the silky material and pulls until it slithers out from Mitch’s collar.
“How are you, Hawke?”
I glance over at Sasha, Mitch’s coworker from his days in the FBI and his best “woman.” “Sasha, you look lovely.” I give her a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Thanks. Maybe you could…” Sasha pointedly looks in Mitch’s direction, leaving her question unfinished. With the flick of her wrist, she tosses her raven-colored hair over her shoulder.
What? I can’t control Mitch? He doesn’t listen to anyone when he gets like this. I stare at Sasha, giving her my best “what the fuck?” look, which she ignores.
I roll my eyes. Dammit. “Hey guys. What’s going on?”
Gavin glances up at me, his expression letting me know he thinks Mitch is calming down. “We’re not going to wear ties.” Gavin stands up straight from where he’s crouched down next to Mitch, who is sitting on the bed. “It’s too formal for the beach anyway,” he says, quickly removing his own gray tie and unbuttoning the top of his shirt.
“Thank god.” I loosen my own tie and throw it on a nearby chair. “I fucking hate those things.”
Mitch, the panic gone from his face, meets my eyes. “You do?” he asks.
I nod. “Can’t stand them. I don’t have to wear them very often, but when I do, I feel like I’m choking.”
Mitch exhales and the last of the stress leaks out of his tense frame. “Me too. I thought it was just me,” he says.
“I told you it wasn’t that unusual,” Gavin says. From over Mitch’s shoulder, Sasha shakes her head at Gavin, urging him away from the I told you so. “I mean, it’s not a big deal. Whatever you want to wear is fine with me. As long as you’re here, I don’t need anything else.”
“Okay,” Mitch says, smiling hesitantly. He stands up, letting Gavin give him a small kiss. At his side, I notice Mitch rubbing his thumb and forefinger together. He’s anxious as hell. It’s kind of charming, I guess. The fearless, brawny Mitch nervous on his wedding day.
“Well boys,” Sasha says loudly, clapping her hands together. “This is nice and all, but I was told there would be a wedding at three o’clock. It’s currently,” she checks the clock on the nightstand, “three thirty. Are we doing this or what? I’m hungry and we can’t have food until you two get down there and do your thing.”
Mitch glances at Sasha, and back at Gavin. “You ready?”
Gavin grins. “I’ve been ready, Utah.”
The quick ceremony goes off without a hitch, Mitch’s nervousness shedding the minute he stands with Gavin in front of the intimate group of friends and family. Hired security keeps people out of the roped-off area of beach in front of Gavin and Mitch’s house, but there’s still a thick crowd of paparazzi and lookie-loos lining the edges of the barrier.
None of us pay them any attention. We’re having too much fun. Mitch’s parents are chatting with Gavin’s mom, Adam and Dax are laughing with Adam’s kids, while Ellie an
d Kate talk with Sasha and Ross with her date, a quiet guy named Bill or Bob or something like that.
I sip a glass of champagne, watching everyone important in my life, my friends, my family, enjoying the day. Enjoying life. I frown when I can’t find Abby anywhere in the small group. After a minute or two of scanning each face, I finally find her on the back deck, holding a sleeping Poppy Davies in her arms.
“You’re all alone,” I murmur when I reach my wife’s side.
“I’m never alone,” she replies, gently rocking from one foot to the other. “Not when I have you.”
I reach up and skim my thumb over her shoulder blade, dark ink exposed by the cut of her dress. The Welsh text inscribed on her tan skin, the same words I have inscribed over my heart, remind me of how much we’ve overcome to get where we are.
O'r llanast , gall pethau prydferth dyfu
From the wreckage, beautiful things can grow.
I look at my wife, radiant in the waning early evening light, and know the truth in that quote. What we have, Abby and me, is beautiful. It took years and a hell of a lot of heartbreak to get here, but it was worth every bit of suffering I endured to have her in my life. All of the dark times almost seem to have occurred in another time, to another person. Memories of the unending misery that used to shroud me have been dulled by Abby’s presence, by my own happiness.
I put an arm around her waist, pulling her close. Poppy sighs, her cute little lips parted, her blonde hair curling on Abby’s chest. “I love you,” I whisper in her ear.