Rock Wedding (Rock Kiss #4)

by Nalini Singh

  The other woman opened the folding doors at the back of the living area. “This leads into our private garden. Many of our guests enjoy sitting here for breakfast or after dinner.”

  Sarah could see why—the bougainvillea was colorful even in the soft lighting created by the old-fashioned lamps, and she could see palms as well as a thick carpet of velvety green grass. “It’s beautiful.”

  A deep smile from her blond host, the woman’s glossy bob shining in the light. “Anything you need, anything at all, let us know.”

  The hotelier couple departed soon afterward, leaving Abe and Sarah alone in the living area. She explored, with Abe following lazily. The bedroom was spacious, the four-poster bed huge and covered with an ivory-colored spread. There was also a window seat tucked below a curved window, books on honey-colored shelves. In the bathroom, she found lovely little toiletries.

  “This is wonderful, Abe,” she said, trying not to be disappointed that he didn’t appear to be setting things up for a proposal.

  Take charge of your own happiness.

  Nodding inwardly at the piercing thought, she decided she’d ask him as soon as they returned home. She’d get candles, roses, make it romantic, surprise him. “How did you find this place?” she asked, smiling at the thought of proposing to her rock star.

  “I know people.” He held out a hand. “Come on, let’s sit in the garden for a bit before we eat. We have places to go tomorrow.”

  She frowned, her proposal-planning derailed midthought. “We’re not staying here?”

  “Nope.”

  He refused to tell her anything else no matter how creative she got with her persuasive tactics. And Sarah could get plenty creative with a naked Abe Bellamy.

  CHAPTER 38

  THE TWO OF THEM HAD A LONG, lazy breakfast the next morning after long, lazy showers. It was eleven by the time they set out. Sarah was in a comfortable dress suitable for travel that Abe had packed, but she definitely didn’t have to worry about it being a hard journey. Abe stopped all the time. Sometimes so they could admire a view, other times so she could use a restroom, still other times so they could exchange kisses.

  It didn’t take her long to realize they were heading for Vegas. “We going gambling?”

  “I thought you’d enjoy a shopping trip. You can buy lots of purses—the SUV has plenty of room.”

  Sarah began to laugh. “You’re taking me on a prebirth purse-shopping extravaganza?” God, but she adored this man.

  “Babymoon, right? That’s a thing.”

  “Yes, but I never expected you to know that.” She was tickled he’d thought of it. “Let’s do this.”

  Thanks to their meandering path and constant stops, they didn’t arrive in Vegas until around five that afternoon. Not tired in the least thanks to all the breaks she’d had to stretch her legs and to just relax, Sarah looked around curiously as they checked into a newly built hotel that screamed luxury.

  She’d been in Vegas before, but never with Abe. However, the memory of being left behind while he went on tour, it no longer hurt. They’d been two different people then. This was who they were now… and Sarah’s Abe, he was devoted. She couldn’t wait to ask him to be her husband.

  “It’s not as much fun before dark,” she whispered in the elevator.

  “Yeah, Vegas is a night town.” He tipped up her chin, dropped a kiss on her lips. “We’ll paint it red tonight.”

  “Did you pack the right clothes?” Vegas—and especially this hotel with its hushed air of old money—was not jersey dress territory, not even for an überpregnant woman.

  Abe grinned. “Maybe.”

  Narrowing her eyes, she said, “What are you up to?”

  “Nothing.” His laughing eyes belied his reply.

  “Hmm.”

  Kicking off her shoes the instant they were in their suite, Sarah stretched. Then, while Abe tipped the bellman who’d brought up their luggage, she padded over to the floor-to-ceiling window and looked out at the uninterrupted view of the Strip. It’d be spectacular at night.

  “Will you dance with me in front of the window tonight?” she asked Abe, feeling silly and romantic.

  “Anything you want.”

  Something in his voice made her turn around.

  Her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes stinging. Because her rock star lover was down on bended knee, an open ring box in the hand he held out.

  “Marry me again, Sarah?” he said, his throat moving as he swallowed. “I promise to do it right this time, to love and cherish you like you deserve, to be the best man I can be.” His hand trembled. “I will always be there for the peanut and any other children we have. I’ll be a good dad. And I’ll love you forever.”

  Unable to speak, Sarah just nodded, the movement jagged.

  A smile breaking out over his face, Abe reached for her hand, tugging it away from her mouth to slide the ring onto her finger. It wasn’t her old ring, the one she’d posted back to him because it hurt too much to look at it. That one had been big and sparkly and pretty, but without much of either one of them in it.

  This was big and sparkly too, but the platinum band was carved with musical notes. “What?” She just pointed with her other hand, her voice too wet and shaky to make much sense.

  Rising to his feet, Abe wove his fingers through hers. “It’s from this.” He began to sing, the bluesy tone of his voice a caress and the words he sang so raw and passionate and stark with love that she began to sob.

  “It’s called ‘Sarah,’” he said afterward, leaning forward to kiss away her tears.

  That only made her cry harder.

  Enfolding her in his arms, he just held her. “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” she managed to say, sniffing against him. “Sing it again,” she ordered when she could finally speak.

  He did, without letting go of her. This time he kept his voice soft so she wasn’t overwhelmed, but the words, they were as powerful.

  Abe was smiling by the end, the smile of a man who adored the woman in his arms. “I’m going to need a whole suitcase of handkerchiefs around you.”

  She pushed at his chest without force. “Shuddup.” It came out wet. “I’m so happy,” she whispered a little later. “This is the best day.” The romantic teenage girl she carried in her heart, she was a complete, happy mess right now.

  “It’s not over yet.” Abe wiped away her tears after tugging her into the bathroom so that he could dampen a facecloth and dab off the mascara that had run down her cheeks. “I thought you said this stuff was waterproof.”

  “They’re liars.”

  “What do you say to getting hitched tonight?”

  Sarah’s mouth fell open. “Tonight?” It came out a squeak.

  “We’re in Vegas.” Abe’s grin was pure sin. “I’m sure we could find a wedding chapel.”

  Heart thumping, Sarah felt her own grin break out. “Let’s do it.” Why not? She wanted to be his wife again. So much.

  Reality intruded a heartbeat later. “Wait, Mom—”

  “Will understand, trust me.” He thrust a hand into her hair, his kiss so hot she nearly combusted then and there. “But we have time to send a driver to kidnap her and get her on the private jet I have waiting in Chicago.” Another grin. “I hoped you’d say yes.”

  Sarah wanted to bounce up and down. “Lola? The guys? Molly, Kit, and Thea?” Eloping was wonderful, but she wanted their family with them.

  “I told them I was going to ask you,” Abe said, looking a little unsure. “I needed their help to get you out of LA without a media tail.”

  Sarah felt teary-eyed again. “They all helped?” The love inherent in that act overwhelmed her.

  “You don’t mind?”

  “Of course not.”

  Smile returning, Abe said, “I’ll message the guys now, tell them to haul ass to Vegas. You call Lola—she can hitch a ride with David and Thea.” He glanced at his watch. “Let’s aim for a midnight wedding.”

  �
�Okay.” It came out breathy.

  It only took them ten minutes to get the word out.

  That was when it hit Sarah. “What am I going to wear?” It was too hot and she was too pregnant to traipse around rush-shopping, but her heart gave a regretful twinge at the idea of marrying the love of her life in a dress designed more for comfort than style.

  Sarah shook off the regret. She was about to marry Abe. Nothing else mattered. “Let me see what you pa—”

  “Hush.” Taking her by the shoulders before she got to the suitcases, Abe nudged her into an elegantly upholstered armchair. “I told you I’ve got this figured out.”

  He made a quick call.

  Someone knocked on the door less than five minutes later. Going over to open it, Abe invited in people pushing two racks of the most stunning clothing. A couple more followed with a table on which were piled clutches, purses, fascinators, and other accessories.

  A curvy older woman oversaw it all.

  “Oh my God.” Sarah’s hands rose to her mouth again. “I get to choose from all this?”

  “Sweetheart, you can have every single thing if you want.”

  Blinking back the tears, Sarah jumped up—or as close as she could come to a jump—and threw her arms around Abe. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  For giving her romance. For caring enough to set all this up.

  He’d written her a song.

  She almost started crying again at the memory of how he’d sung to her.

  “Always, Sarah,” Abe murmured against her ear. “Always.”

  He told most of the staff to leave in the next couple of minutes, but the two who remained behind—the curvy woman and a male with the solid look of a boxer—were kind and knowledgeable, and they’d brought clothing suitable for a woman who was Sarah’s height and pregnant.

  Having found her center again in his arms, Sarah said, “Shoo,” to Abe. “I don’t want you to see my dress before the wedding.”

  “I’ll be downstairs. Call if you need me.”

  She knew he’d answer.

  The man she was about to marry kept his promises.

  ABE’S MOTHER THREATENED TO CLIP HIM around the ear when she arrived in Vegas, but she was laughing as she did so, her delight open. “That man just turned up at my bridge game.” She poked him in the stomach. “If you hadn’t called ahead and if I didn’t know him as your driver, I’d have slammed the door in his face.”

  “That’s why I sent someone you knew.” Abe lifted her off her feet with his hug. “I got you a room so you can rest a little.”

  “Forget that. I’m ready.” His mother adjusted her jaunty yellow hat. It went with her stylish skirt suit. “Where’s Sarah?”

  Abe gave her the suite number, watched her go up to join Sarah, Lola, and the other women. Around him, his friends were in the charcoal-gray suits they’d worn to Fox’s wedding, while Abe wore a slightly darker suit Sarah had chosen for him the last time they’d gone shopping. Dark gray shirt inside but no tie, because she liked him without a tie.

  Not wanting Sarah to guess what he was up to, he hadn’t brought the suit with him. David had picked it up, brought it over. Abe had changed in the room he’d booked for the drummer and Thea, and now he, Fox, David, and Noah stood at the bar just off the check-in area. “Thanks for coming,” he said to his friends.

  “Don’t make us hurt you,” Noah said without heat, then slapped Abe on the back. “This is awesome. No fucking reporters, just family and friends.”

  Abe looked at Fox. “You and Molly have trouble shaking them off?” The other couple, Noah, and David were the ones who’d distracted the media so Abe and Sarah could make their getaway, with Thea playing informant and feeding certain pieces of information to the right sources.

  Kit and Lola had been backup.

  Now, Fox groaned. “Christ, it was like trying to shake off an army of rabid rats.” Running a hand through the chocolate-dark strands of his hair, he said, “I finally had to park my SUV in a mall parking lot and duck inside with Molly, come out a side exit and get into Kit’s car. Lola managed to pick up Noah and David in an underground parking garage—the media doesn’t know her car, so it was easy for her to drive out.”

  “They totally bought it.” Noah’s eyes gleamed. “Oooh, news hot off the press, the members of Schoolboy Choir at one another’s throats over some unknown woman—total public meltdown. David even threw a punch at Fox after we shouted down the restaurant.”

  Abe glanced at David. “Thea?”

  “She says it’s great publicity, especially since it’ll be obvious by tomorrow that we were fucking with everyone. Of course, if Sarah had said no, you’d be in the shit.”

  “Worth the risk.” Abe couldn’t imagine his life without the woman who was about to become his wife again. “Sarah’s worth every risk.”

  David’s phone buzzed. “Thea,” he said, after reading the message. “Their limo is here.”

  “Then we’d better start walking.” Abe had chosen a chapel not far from the hotel, one with the requisite Elvis impersonator.

  If he and Sarah were getting married in Vegas, they were getting married Vegas style.

  Walking out with his best friends into the light and color of Sin City, Abe wanted to whoop with joy. Somehow managing to keep it together, he took several deep breaths. Soon, he told himself. Soon Sarah would be his again. All official and public and permanent. Very permanent. No way was Abe messing this up a second time around.

  They arrived at the chapel to find it more tasteful than could be expected.

  Ten seconds later, a white-jumpsuit-clad Elvis hustled them to the head of the aisle and took up his position with an “A-ha-hah” and a hip swivel.

  “Right,” Abe said, settling his suit jacket when it didn’t need to be settled. “Shit, why am I so nervous? I already married Sarah once.”

  David was the one who answered. “It’s because this time around you know exactly what’s on the line, how precious it is.”

  Yeah, he did.

  The sound system came on, filling the chapel not with the wedding march but with the song Abe had written for Sarah. He’d recorded it alone two days earlier, given the CD to Elvis’s assistant. Around him, he felt his friends go still as they recognized his voice.

  Then he saw Sarah enter on his mother’s arm, Lola, Kit, Thea, and Molly following. Everything else receded. His Sarah had chosen a strapless gown in a rich emerald green that made her skin glow. The fabric gathered together in a kind of a knot between her breasts before waterfalling to the ground. It was stark and simple and stunning.

  She’d left her hair in wild curls about her head, tucking only a vivid red rose behind her ear. Her sole pieces of jewelry were the ring he’d put on her finger and a delicate diamond necklace Abe remembered his father giving his mother on their twentieth wedding anniversary.

  The bouquet in her hand was a profusion of color.

  She looked like his every dream come to life.

  “There you are,” he said when she reached him, immediately taking her hands into his after she passed her bouquet back to Lola. His beaming mother waved him down, kissed his cheek, then did the same to Sarah before stepping back to let Elvis begin the ceremony.

  Mostly all Abe remembered was the unhidden love in Sarah’s eyes and the joy flooding his veins. When Elvis declared them husband and wife, he couldn’t hold it in. He gave a roof-shaking whoop and then kissed a laughing Sarah until everyone hollered and Elvis offered to rent them a room.

  Grinning, he clasped Sarah’s hand in his and they walked out as a group… straight into the flash of a camera.

  Basil froze, his eyes huge in his pasty face. “Shit,” he whispered. “I think I just got the exclusive of a lifetime.”

  Abe looked at Sarah, lifted an eyebrow.

  She laughed and, turning to the photographer, said, “It’s your lucky day, Basil.” She tilted up her head, Abe bent, and they kissed while their friends showered them in flower petals the wome
n must’ve brought in with them.

  Vegas sparkled and shone around them, bystanders gathered to applaud, but all Abe cared about was the woman in his arms. The woman who was now his wife.

  CHAPTER 39

  BASIL, FOR ALL HIS FAULTS, proved to be an amazing wedding photographer. He even sent a whole set of the images to Thea—after he’d gotten his exclusive splashed all over not the tabloids but the glossiest magazine in the business. “I always wanted to be a wedding photographer,” he’d written in the accompanying note. “With the money from this exclusive, I can follow my dream. Thank you.”

  Going through the photos the week after the wedding, Abe reveled in the joy he saw on Sarah’s face in every shot. The same joy suffused his.

  According to Thea, the social media outlets had gone crazy.

  Abe ignored the noise of the world, he and Sarah cozily ensconced in a spacious villa an hour from Los Angeles that he’d rented so they could have a small honeymoon, free from media intrusion, before they went home to prepare for the baby’s arrival. That’d happen in about two to three weeks, depending on if the peanut decided on a little extra womb time.

  David had dropped off Flossie too, the villa owners happy to welcome a canine guest. Abe had known Sarah would miss her pet if they were apart too long, and Flossie had settled right in, was currently curled up at Abe’s side on the sofa, as interested in the photos as he was.

  “Abra is now set in stone,” Thea had said when she came by with the photos a couple of hours earlier. “My favorite headline so far is: ABRACADABRA, ROCK REUNION!”

  “Kill it,” Abe had ordered. “Kill it dead now.”

  “Too late.”

  Abe didn’t really mind the sobriquet. What the hell. He was with Sarah. What did he care?