anniversary of her parents’ death so I’ve made it my mission to make tonight as bright as it can be for her.
I’m heading to the bar when I hear the band doing a sound check. Okay, so maybe it will be a little weird to hear them. When I stop to watch them onstage, I see that Garrett is already sitting behind the drums, sticks in hand. Nix is in the corner throwing the finger at someone. I missed who it was, but I can only guess it was Xander since Nix is now walking onstage with his bass guitar and not his Fender Stratocaster. I know I’m right when Zane hits the stage holding his twelve-string in the air. Fuck, Nix is going to be hating life if he plays that at every gig.
I look around the bar as the audience migrates toward the stage. When Zane slings his guitar over his shoulder and picks up the microphone, some of the girls start screaming. “Hello, everyone. Nice to meet you!” he says and the girls go crazy. He walks to the edge of the stage and grabs some of the girls’ hands. I grin because he seems to really be enjoying the attention.
“I’m not sure if all of you know this yet, but I am the lucky—or maybe it’s unlucky—son of a bitch who took the spot for the irreplaceable River Wilde.” I’m a little shocked that he mentions me.
“Hey, you okay?” I feel Dahlia’s arms go around my waist and she rests her chin on my shoulder in a familiar stance that makes me smile.
I nod to her as the crowd cheers and Zane moves back from the edge of the stage. “We’re going to start with a few covers tonight, if that’s okay with you?” he asks the audience. They yell and he smiles. He flicks his wrist behind him and Nix starts to play. I know the song immediately and understand why he chose the twelve-string. “So I picked this song because I think this is how I am going to be feeling by the time the upcoming tour is over.” Bon Jovi’s “Wanted Dead or Alive” blasts through the speakers as the band starts to play together. I’m actually impressed with his performance.
Everyone sings along, including my girl, and as the song ends the crowd rushes toward the stage, waving their hands in the air. He’s a hit. I look around for Xander but don’t see him. Dahlia hugs me tighter.
Zane raises his hand over his eyes and scans the audience as Garrett and Nix start playing another song I know well. His eyes land on me and he points his finger. “There he is! Hey man, this is for you! And we want you up here now.” Xander appears out of nowhere and Dahlia releases me from her embrace. I put my hands out in a
I turn to look at her and her face is so bright there is no way I can say no. She gives me a quick kiss and Xander shoves me forward.
“Enough, Loverboy.” Then winking at Dahlia he says, “Good one, Muse.”
“You knew about this?” She shrugs her shoulders and then puts her hand over her heart and blows me a kiss. God, I love her.
People clap me on the shoulder as I approach the stage. I hop up and Bell hands me my guitar, my simple acoustic—Stella, the guitar named after my dad’s favorite singer’s daughter, the guitar my dad gave me.
I give her a look and she shrugs her shoulders. “I may have swiped it this morning when I stopped by.”
I smile at her. “Thanks, Bell.”
Zane approaches me, taking his guitar off his shoulder, and hands me the mic. He goes over to stand behind the keyboard. Nix starts warming up and just like that, I’m on.
“Hey, everyone! Let’s do this one last time,” I say as I clip the microphone back on the stand and start playing the first eight bars in D. I scan the crowd, looking for my girl, and grin when I spot her. “One, two, one, two, three, four,” I say into the mic as I start to sing “Come Together.”
Zane joins in before the end of the first verse and during the refrain I watch Dahlia approach the front of the stage. My eyes move over her body and meet hers at the same time hers meet mine. Her smile is so wide that even if I screw up John Lennon’s masterpiece, being up here for her is all that matters. She runs her fingers through her hair as I sing the second verse. Every time I sing “shoop” I wish I was hugging her. She starts singing along and I can see her singing “me.”
When I start the guitar solo she closes her eyes as if absorbing every single note and I do the same. I open my eyes and she’s staring at me. I can feel her love. As I sing the next verse, she runs her tongue over her bottom lip and I have to bite mine to keep it together.
The second half of the song begins and I look over to the side of the stage at Xander. He gives me a nod and smiles, signaling that he accepts my decision to quit the band. I turn around to catch Garrett’s eye and then do the same to Nix. They both smile at me and I know we are all cool. I grab the mic off the stand and walk it over to Zane. “You’re on, man.”
I jam out the rest of the song on my guitar as the crowd cheers us on. When we finish, I sling it around my back knowing this is the last time I’ll be singing with these guys. We’ve spent our lives practicing and rehearsing together as we moved from garage to garage to this stage and I know that the bond we formed will always remain whether I am part of the band or not. They all gather around me and before I know it we are huddled together, even Xander is up here. The moment we break apart, Zane has a tray of shots in his hands. I’ll let myself have one drink. Garrett makes a toast and we all drink to get the lumps out of our throats. Bell and Ena, Xander’s new assistant, join in as well. Ena is doing well and Xander doesn’t seem quite so grumpy.
I hop off the stage and Dahlia runs over to me and wraps her arms around my neck so I can lift her off the ground and swing her in a circle. When I put her back down she crashes her lips to mine and threads her fingers through my hair. I want to run my hands down every inch of her body, but she pulls away too fast and places her hands on my cheeks. Her eyes flicker over my face as she examines me, like she’s looking for something.
“Dahlia, I’m good. Really, I am,” I assure her because I know she’s concerned I may be regretting my decision.
Once she’s satisfied that I’m fine, she leans in and whispers in my ear, “River Wilde, take me home now. I want you.”
I know I must be wearing the biggest shit-eating grin. “Dahlia London, I would love to take you home. I want you, too.” And I try, I really try not to gloat, but I can’t resist. I lean back in and trace the seam of her lips with my tongue before kissing her ear. “Looks like I won and you’re on coffee duty for the week.” I laugh.
Then she laughs and says, “And don’t think I didn’t notice you were drinking water all night to stay on your game.”
I just shake my head. She knows me so well.
Holding hands, we say good night to everyone. I sling my arm around Dahlia and she tucks her thumb in my back pocket. As we walk out the door together I am more than 100 percent certain that I made the right decision.
We approach my car and she says, “Mr. Lennon, my fiance won’t like me going home with you.”
I lean over and whisper to her in my best British accent, “I bet I could kick his ass.” She laughs so hard she’s hiccupping by the time we get in the car. On the ride home we sing along to Beatles songs, neither of us faltering on the lyrics because we are both avid fans. By the time we get home I’m pretty proud of myself. I managed to stay in control and wait to have her in our bed. I actually have a surprise for her first, though.
When I send her to our room and tell her I’ll be right behind her, she looks at me like I have three heads.
“What?” I ask.
She narrows her eyes at me then heads down the hallway, throwing over her shoulder, “River, I know you’re up to something.”
I just shake my head. She knows me. I am up to something, but nothing big. Tomorrow is going to be a tough day for her so I want to shower her with my love and just be with her, letting her know she’s everything to me. We went through a rough spot. For a long time I was never sure if I would have been her first choice, and doubt shadowed me. When Ben came back that doubt no longer shadowed me—it loomed large, almost haunted me. My guilt over the things I knew—what I couldn’t tell her, what I should have told her the first time I figured it out—sent me over the edge. Every time she saw him it tore me to shreds. I wanted her to choose me but not because of what he did. When I got home that morning after I’d stormed out and read her note—I knew she’d always been mine.
The last few weeks were just as tough but for a different reason—she lost someone again and her pain rips through me. I want to make it go away, make everything right for her, but I know all I can do is be here. So I am. I’ve kept her busy, mostly delving into our new business. We’ve got the wheels in motion and I’m hoping before the
