by Nalini Singh
No excuses, no bullshit.
“I was fucked up and I took that out on everyone, Sarah most of all.” His friends thought they knew what he’d been like during his worst days, but they had no idea how many times he’d hurt his tough, sweet wife with his words and his lack of care, until even her generous heart couldn’t love him. “All Sarah did was try to love me.”
David nodded, his golden-brown eyes dark with the awareness that no one outside a marriage or relationship ever truly knew what went on inside it. “Whatever happens,” he said, “I know you’re going to stay sober this time around.” No hesitation in his tone, nothing but absolute confidence. “You’re different.”
“Yeah, I am.” It was as if a switch had been thrown in his brain. He finally got it: he was in charge of whether or not he lived a life that made him happy. And he understood that any self-destructive choices he made had a profound impact on others: David and his other bandmates, his dad when Gregory Bellamy had been alive, his mom… Sarah.
“Isn’t it time to head over?” David’s voice drew him back to the here and now. He glanced over to see that Noah had picked up an acoustic guitar.
“No, we still have a half hour.” Noah strummed aimlessly, still managing to create music. “Small session to settle Fox’s nerves.”
“Fuck you.” Fox’s grin made it clear he wasn’t nervous but impatient. “But why not? It’ll be the last time I sing as a single man.”
The other man belted out three of their hits over the next twenty minutes, with Noah on guitar, David tapping out a rhythm using a pair of sticks he’d left nearby, and Abe on the keyboard he kept at David’s place for the times they jammed here.
Gabriel took over photographing duties for the duration, though when Fox called for him to join in on the chorus, he proved to have a voice that wasn’t totally untrained. “Church choir,” he admitted with a wince between songs. “My mum made all four of us join. At least until we turned thirteen.”
Abe, Fox, Noah, and David grinned before launching into another song—because the event that had sealed the friendship between the four of them had involved a choir tryout.
As the session wound down, Fox looked even more pumped if that was possible. “I’m going to get married!” he yelled in his gritty voice.
They all roared their approval before setting down their instruments to check one another’s clothes. Then, once ties had been straightened and cuffs nicely aligned, Fox’s boutonniere—that’s what it was called—neatly in place, they walked out to get into two separate cars.
Fox roared off first in his red Lamborghini, with Noah in the passenger seat. Abe followed in his grunty black SUV, David in back and Gabriel in the passenger seat. David would ride home with Thea after the wedding, Noah with Kit, while Gabriel’s rental was already parked at Molly and Fox’s.
“You staying at a hotel tonight?” Abe asked, aware the visiting couple had been staying with the lead singer and Molly since the day Charlotte pulled off her plan to surprise Molly.
Gabriel stretched out his legs in the passenger seat, at home in the big SUV that was the same size as his rental vehicle. Given that the ex-rugby player was Abe’s size, a smaller car would’ve simply never worked.
“No,” the other man said. “We’re spending the night at the house.”
Abe blinked while David was more vocal in his surprise. “I don’t think Fox is into foursomes.”
Chuckling, Gabriel looked over his shoulder at the drummer. “Molly doesn’t know, but Charlotte and I arranged for the newlyweds to spend a few days at a romantic mountain cabin. I checked with Fox before we did it—he’s all for kidnapping his Miss Molly right after the reception.”
Abe’s brain took note: there was a certain woman he’d love to kidnap for a sensual getaway.
“I’ve got romantic plans of my own,” Gabriel added with a scowl, “so don’t hang around too long post-wedding.”
David snorted. “This is a rock wedding, Bishop. The party might end at dawn.”
Abe’s hands tightened on the steering wheel; he couldn’t wait to party the night away with Sarah. No way in hell was he letting some other man try to pick her up. Abe would be the only one doing any seducing, putting in motion his plan to win back his wife.
He wasn’t going to fuck up. Not this time.
CHAPTER 12
SARAH STOOD WITH CHARLOTTE, Kit, and Thea behind Molly, bubbles of happiness popping effervescently in her bloodstream.
Facing Molly stood a handsome older man with light brown skin and salt-and-pepper hair: Vicente Rivera. David’s father.
From what Abe had told Sarah that day in her kitchen, Molly’s own father had been a useless excuse for a man before his death, but she’d become very close to the Riveras in the time she’d been with Fox. No surprise when her sister, Thea, was marrying their oldest son. The publicist, too, adored her future in-laws.
From the way Vicente pressed his lips to Molly’s forehead, his big hands on her upper arms, the affection was deeply mutual. His golden-brown eyes glowed as he drew back. “With three strapping boys, I never thought I’d get to walk a daughter down the aisle.” Wetness in those eyes, which he’d bequeathed to all his sons. “And what a beautiful daughter.”
Molly threw her arms around him, squeezing him tight as his own arms came around her, the black fabric of his suit jacket dark against the lace of Molly’s gown. “Thank you,” she whispered, emotion thick in her voice.
“It is my honor.” Vicente kissed her forehead again, then lowered her netting veil and held out his arm.
Taking a shaky breath, Molly curved her fingers gently around his forearm. Vicente put his other hand over hers, squeezed.
The wedding march began to play, picked out on the piano by David’s youngest brother.
Molly turned to glance back at Charlotte and the bridal party, Vicente a solid presence by her side. No words needed to be spoken, her joy written in her smile. Charlotte came forward, touched her hand to Molly’s, then walked out the sliding doors on the lower floor of the house. Thea followed, then Kit and Sarah, all of them preceding the bride down the rose-petal-strewn pathway bordered by potted plants bursting with blooms.
They all got smiles, but an audible “oooh” filled the air at the guests’ first sight of Molly. Heart thumping for her friend, Sarah, too, was focused only on Molly as she, Charlotte, Thea, and Kit stepped aside to wait for her at the altar. Vicente walked with open pride by Molly’s side, the bride glowing with so much happiness that she was radiant.
Sighing a little at the beauty of the occasion, Sarah watched misty-eyed as Vicente and Molly reached the top of the aisle. David’s father left Molly with a kiss on the temple and a quiet word to Fox that had the lead singer giving a firm nod. Then the older man took a seat beside his wife—who was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. Sarah’s own steadfastly—foolishly—romantic heart was making her eyes burn. She’d just swallowed back the tears that wanted to escape when she really looked at the groomsmen.
All four were dressed in classic charcoal-gray.
Sarah knew she should be looking only at the bride and groom, but she couldn’t keep her eyes off Abe. The last time she’d seen her ex-husband this dressed up had been on their wedding day. He looked even better now, the bluntly handsome lines of his face holding a new purpose and strength, and his body…
A heat wave crawled over her own flesh as, all gorgeous strength and intense eyes, Abe caught her gaze, held it. It was the wedding officiant’s voice that snapped Sarah into the moment. And though her heart skittered inside her chest, she turned her attention firmly back to the two people whose love they were here to celebrate.
It was a beautiful, sunlit wedding.
The vows the couple spoke to each other made a lump form in Sarah’s throat; they were so honest and passionate and loving. Molly smiled with her whole body throughout. And Fox’s eyes saw only Molly as she stood in front of him with her gown whispering lightly in the breeze. The lead
singer looked astonished, awed, delighted—as if he couldn’t believe Molly was his.
But when he kissed her after the white-haired officiant pronounced them man and wife, there was no tentativeness. He claimed Molly’s mouth with such heat and possessiveness that people whooped and Noah put two fingers into his mouth and let out a wolf whistle.
Ending the kiss with a grin on his face, a blushing Molly laughing beside him, Fox lifted their linked hands into the air. “We are fucking married, people!”
A cheer reverberated through the crowd.
Color and scent filled the air as Molly and Fox walked back down the aisle, the guests showering them in the flower petals that had been left in small baskets placed below each seat.
Then it was time for Sarah to step up and walk out behind Kit and Noah.
The guests would wait for the wedding party to leave, then head to the big pavilion that had been set up at the last minute to ensure it attracted no unwanted attention. Up ahead, Charlotte had been joined by a gray-eyed man who was as big and as muscled as Abe. Gabriel. He was glancing down at Charlotte with a possessive smile; the other woman looked tiny next to his linebacker physique—and yet somehow they fit. There was simply a resonance there, a deep vein of trust.
As there was between Molly and Fox, Thea and David, Kit and Noah.
Abe offered her his arm.
Pulse beating like a rabbit’s, Sarah slid her arm through his and they walked behind the other couples. She tried not to inhale his scent, tried not to feel his muscles flexing under her touch, but it was impossible. The fresh, warm, and deeply masculine scent that was Abe’s seeped into her every cell, his body brushing hers with every step they took.
It would’ve been logical for her mind to fill with images of their own wedding day, but her brain was more interested in replaying their far more recent encounter.
The kitchen counter under her.
Abe pushing apart her thighs.
Hot, tangled breaths, his body driving into hers, his fingers digging into the soft curves of her ass. Her scream as she came. His cock pulsing inside her.
Oh, thank God.
They were inside the house. Her knees quivered as she broke contact with Abe. The rest of the wedding party was already heading upstairs.
The whole time she was climbing up, she could feel Abe’s eyes on her ass.
She told herself it was her imagination, but her tingling skin and flushed face didn’t think so; then she reached the top of the stairs and turned… and caught him in the act. “Stop it,” she hissed under her breath.
His response was a grin, his eyes traveling slowly up her body—and lingering on every curve along the way. Her thighs clenched, her body damp in that dark, secret place only Abe knew exactly how to touch.
“I’m a red-blooded man, Sarah,” he said when he finally reached her eyes, “and, sweetheart, you have one hell of an ass.”
She was both flattered and aggravated by him. Especially when he looked so damn good grinning up at her. And damn it, yes, it felt good to be told she had “one hell of an ass” by this man who had always pushed her buttons.
Glaring at him when his grin deepened—as if he could read her thoughts—Sarah stalked off to join the others.
Charlotte was laughingly picking flower petals out of Molly’s hair. As Sarah watched, Fox shook his head, showering the floor with splashes of silky pink, cream, and deep yellow. Regardless of his action, his arm remained around Molly. The lead singer’s smile was huge, the kisses Molly kept dropping on his cheek adorable; it was clear she was aiming for the lean dimple in his left cheek.
“Congratulations, man,” Abe said, walking over to haul the lead singer into a hug that lifted him off his feet.
Grinning, Fox slapped Abe on the back before they broke apart to do that complicated handshake thing Sarah had never been able to master even after Abe tried to teach her one lazy Saturday morning, both of them laughing when she gave up and made up a random handshake of her own.
Pushing aside the melancholy that threatened to envelop her at the reminder of how young she’d been, how hopeful, Sarah bent to kiss Molly on the cheek, then gave her a heartfelt hug. “Congratulations. I am so happy for you.”
“Thank you!” Molly’s dark eyes were full of light.
Delighted for her, Sarah stepped back so Kit, too, could hug the bride. She ended up bumping straight into the hard wall of muscle that was her ex-husband. Who hooked an arm around her waist before she could move away. “You look edible,” he murmured, his breath brushing her sensitive earlobe.
Which Abe knew all about.
Sarah’s heart rate had never quite slowed down. Now it kicked again, the heat of his touch sinking through the fabric of her dress to soak into her skin. Turning on a wave of need, she said, “I like you in formal wear.” She couldn’t help herself; she reached over to fix his tie. It hadn’t been out of place—she just wanted an excuse to touch him even knowing it was a bad, bad idea.
Allowing her hand to lie on his chest for a second, she drew in a breath… and glimpsed Noah watching them, interest alive in the gray of the guitarist’s eyes. She flushed, dropped her hand, and turned to face the bride and groom once more.
“Let go of my waist,” she muttered to Abe at the same time.
“Make me,” said the man holding her prisoner.
Sarah knew she could move away, but she didn’t want to draw attention to the two of them. And her traitorous body didn’t want to break contact—having Abe messing with her was more fun than it should be.
Deciding to fight fire with fire, she shifted slightly, just enough to angle a look at him from under her lashes. It was a very specific look, one that had never failed to have a certain effect on Abe.
“Fuck.” It was a hard, barely audible sound.
Despite that staccato word, he didn’t release her. Instead, he stroked his hand down to her hip and began to move his thumb back and forth, back and forth over a particular spot. Their position at the end of the semicircle of friends meant no one could see what he was doing.
“Abe.” Her voice came out strangled.
Leaning close as if to ensure he heard what she was saying, Abe said, “You started it.” His breath was hot, his chest hard where it touched her shoulder.
He moved his thumb again. “And it is a wedding,” he murmured. “Aren’t bridesmaids supposed to hook up with the groomsmen?”
“I’m not a bridesmaid,” Sarah managed to get out, her self-control not totally in tatters.
“Close enough.”
“A toast to Foxy!” Noah held up a glass of champagne.
Threatening to punch the guitarist, Fox grinned nonetheless and dipped his head to kiss Molly, soft and sweet and with so much love that Sarah’s vision blurred.
“Hey.” Abe’s stroking turned into a comforting rub. “No crying.”
“It’s a wedding,” she sniffed, using a finger to wipe away the tears that had escaped. The other women were doing the same.
Feeling a deluge coming, she was about to dig in her clutch for a tissue when Abe handed her a pristine white handkerchief. “It was part of the getup,” he said, pointing at the pocket of his suit.
“Thanks.” Sarah dabbed at her eyes.
The Riveras arrived then, David’s two brothers included; more hugs and kisses were exchanged. Alicia and Vicente beamed as proudly as if it was their own child’s wedding.
Vicente’s hug of Fox was powerful, paternal. His words, however, were a growl. “You take care of my girl, Fox, or like a son or not, I’ll be over here with a baseball bat.”
“You’ll never need to do that, sir,” Fox promised.
The naked emotion in the lead singer’s eyes when he looked at his bride had Sarah’s eyes filling with tears once again.
“You always did cry at all the romantic parts in those movies you used to make me watch.” Abe’s rumbling voice against her ear, his body warm and supportive behind her… and the memories making her ache.
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br /> She loved romantic dramas and at the start of their marriage, Abe had watched with her, Sarah’s body curled into his on the couch. She’d stopped asking him around the time she’d realized he was never going to take her on tour with him. Instead, she’d watched those movies alone in the big house in which she felt like a left-behind toy. And the tears she’d shed hadn’t been because of the movies.
But back at the start, when she’d still been hopeful of winning a small piece of his heart… Abe had held her, teased her, made her believe she, too, could have her own happy ending. That such endings weren’t just for beautiful people with perfect lives, but for the broken and scarred too.
Today, as she leaned against Abe’s strength, Sarah allowed herself to give in to the fantasy that they’d made it, that it hadn’t all gone so awfully wrong. What harm could it do? The instant the reception was over, they’d head their separate ways.
CHAPTER 13
ABE’S HAND WAS WARM and possessive on her lower back when they followed the rest of the wedding party back downstairs and to the pavilion. Molly and Fox would enter last; the rest of them all wanted to be there to cheer on the newlyweds—and Sarah was dead certain Fox wanted Molly to himself for a couple of minutes so he could kiss her boneless.
She gasped at her first glimpse inside the pavilion: waterfalls of fine white fabric pinned to the walls like curtains in a luxurious outdoor tent, the floor lined with a luscious carpet of silver and cherry red, flowers everywhere. Meanwhile, the tables were set with white tablecloths, the centerpieces little tea candles floating in glass bowls surrounded by bunches of white flowers.
It was pretty and fresh and romantic, and Sarah adored it. “I can see Molly in all the tiny touches,” she said to Abe as she took her seat at the head table, Abe holding out her chair. “No hard edges, just joy.”
Abe undid the button on his suit jacket before sitting down beside her. “Like you,” he said, his expression unexpectedly tender. “You’ve never had any hard edges.”
Flustered, the fantasy suddenly too much, she glanced away and to her left.