by B. Celeste
Chase’s face twists. “Yeah. And I know where you’re going with this. It’s not your fault. Honestly, they’ve been rocky since getting back together.”
That’s what Zayne had said.
“I feel like I can’t make anything better,” I admit quietly, playing with my food. “Garrick has been going nonstop trying to figure out the logistics of how this will all go down while all of them try helping Zayne. But he doesn’t seem to want to be helped and I can tell that bothers your brother a lot.”
Chase nods. “Garrick would give the shirt off his back for anyone, even if they don’t deserve it. But he finds this situation personal. I think because he went through it, he wants to be the one to get Zayne to the other side. He just needs to remember that it took him awhile to quit for good. In my opinion, he’s being too hard on Zayne and that could ruin their friendship in the long run.”
“Have you told him that?”
Hesitation, then another nod. “He didn’t like that very much. Said some not-so-nice things. It’s why I’m here, actually. Figured I’d wait until he got back to talk to him and apologize for butting into his business.”
I’m not sure if he’s worried that his brother is upset, so I offer a small reassurance based on Garrick’s mood lately. “You meant well. I’m sure he knows that. He doesn’t hold grudges. He hasn’t said anything to me about it.”
Chase presses his lips together and remains quiet. We keep the silence as we eat, nothing but the crunchy coating on the cooked poultry filling the kitchen as we empty our plates.
Eventually, after he helps me clean the dishes and then the mess on the counters, he murmurs, “I hope Zayne is okay.”
“Me too.”
There’s a pause, a look of contemplation, before the youngest Matthews pins me with a look and says, “He better be. I want him to be my son’s godfather, and I can’t ask a dead man that sort of thing.”
My eyes widen.
Oh my God.
Chase is going to be a father?
34
Rylee
I hold my breath when Garrick walks on the small makeshift stage and up to the podium where he’s greeted by flashes of cameras. He didn’t dress up for this press conference but looks exactly as he should. Blue jeans fitted to his legs. Rip in the knee. Stain on his thigh. It’s not artfully done but well worn—his favorite pair, he once told me. He has two whole drawers of denim, but he always goes to this pair because he says they’re his “lucky” pair.
The t-shirt he’s in isn’t of Violet Wonders, but a plain black one that’s slightly loose on his trimmed body, not showing off what muscles lie beneath. Muscle I’ve gotten bold in exploring over the past few months. A red and black plaid shirt is left unbuttoned over that, sleeves rolled up, and a leather bracelet that Chase gave him a long time ago on his wrist above his Smartwatch. What most people don’t know is that stitched on the inside of that bracelet is a sobriety token he keeps with him and switches out when new ones are sent to him the longer he’s accomplished staying clean.
His boots make me smile. When I first saw that the bottom of his closet had more pairs of boots than I could count, I’d given him a skeptical look and he’s simply said, “My mum raised a shoe whore.”
The pair he’s wearing are black ones that I bought him for Christmas with the help of his brother. He told me where Garrick liked getting them, and I’d about gone bug-eyed when I saw the number attached to the Italian leather Samuel Hubbard’s currently on his feet. But his face lit up when he’d opened the box, and it made the reality of my situation sweeter, even if I’d never want to spend that much money on one thing again.
Adjusting the microphone, Garrick clears his throat and instantly ends the murmuring among the reporters in the crowd. “I’ll try keeping this as short and sweet as possible since I’m sure we all have better things to do today,” he begins, looking over to me and smirking. “I know I do.”
He winks when everyone laughs, not seeming to care that I’m glaring as I turn red from the insinuation.
Gripping the sides of the podium, he leans into it and sighs. “Look, I know there’s been a lot in the media that me and my band haven’t taken time to address. We decided that we wanted our privacy to work on our album, work through some personal things, and for me, spend time with me beautiful wife.” Once again, his eyes find mine, but this time a warm smile is on his face instead of a cocky one. He looks back to the crowd. “It’s true that when Violet Wonders got back together, there were things left untouched that we should have talked about from the start. And while the things reported about us haven’t been entirely accurate, they haven’t been inaccurate either.
“The guys and I have spent the last few weeks talking about where we see ourselves in the next five years, and it was obvious that we all have different goals in life. For that reason, I’m officially announcing that Late Nights and our Illusion World Tour will be the last events the public will get from Violet Wonders.”
The room instantly fills with rapid questions being tossed at the man behind the podium, so many that I can’t quite understand what any of them are asking. Garrick looks indifferent as he waits for the room to quiet enough for a few people to speak up.
“What does this mean for the individual members of Violet Wonders?” a man asks, shoving a voice recorder forward.
Garrick lifts his shoulders. “That isn’t really my place to talk about. What my friends do with their lives from here on out is their business and their business only.”
A woman asks, “What about Zayne Gray? Is it true he’s planning on going solo?”
I’m not sure many people notice the small tick in his jaw, but I do. Even from where I’m standing off to the side and away from the people still trying to get information from him. “No. Zayne has never been interested in doing a solo album. Though, I’m sure it’d do well if he ever changed his mind.”
“Regarding Mr. Gray,” another woman in the back asks. “Is it true he was under the influence during the Golden Globes? And were you also engaging in the events that led to the photos that’s concerned the public from that night?”
From beside me, I see Gordon nod once when Garrick looks in our direction. He pushes off the podium and stands tall. “Here’s the thing. My sobriety has been a battle every single day for many years, but it’s one I proudly face because I am determined to stay clean knowing it’s what’s best. I made it past the 27 Club when few people thought I would, and I certainly made a lot of bad decisions along the way, but I’ve been making it up to people the best I can. Especially to myself. I have not used since I left rehab. I will not use again no matter the temptation, and there are a lot of temptations in this industry. And for anyone else who’s facing the battle, it’s going to last for life. I failed more than once before I decided enough was enough. It takes effort, determination, and a support system to be successful at remaining clean and moving forward with life.”
It’s not a confirmation regarding Zayne’s sobriety, or lack thereof, but not a denial either. He knew he’d be asked about those photos of us all looking a little too cozy and unstable, and he was undecided about how to address it knowing that his best friend didn’t need anything out in the world while he tried to recover.
“Garrick, what was the cause of the first breakup with Violet Wonders, and do you think there could be a third comeback if something similar occurred this time?”
He shakes his head. “We’re older now, we want things we didn’t when we first started our careers in this industry together. We’ll always be in touch, always be a family, but we won’t be rejoining as a band for a third time. I’m sure some of you are grateful to hear that.” Garrick eyes the group of older men who all smirk and chuckle to some degree. “As for the past, there’s no point in bringing it up. I know the world wants to know what could have ended something that was at the height of its success, but maybe it’s as simple as life. Subconsciously, we all knew what was bound to happen and we ended thing
s prematurely because of feelings getting hurt and other admirations getting in the way. It doesn’t have to be anybody’s fault. There doesn’t have to be some big reason. It’s the press, the tabloids and media that always make it bigger than it has to be.
“And before I’m asked, I’m well aware that my wife was part of that press problem in the past. But unlike most people, she was willing to own up to it. Rylee, like the rest of us, has faults that makes her human. It’s what I love most about her. She’s unapologetically herself, and because of that there’s no hard feelings between her, Zayne, or any of my mates. The rumors of any involvement between she and him are false, as most of the bullshit—” Gordon winces at the choice of language. “—circulated by the free presses. All the world needs to know is that we’re happy, we plan on living our lives in as much privacy as we’re allowed, and that things are good.”
“Garrick, what about—”
“Can you comment on—”
“Is it safe to say that—”
On and on and on it goes, but Garrick chooses not to stay and give them any more than what he already has. He walks away from the stage, jumping off the side as people throw questions out, and ignoring everyone behind him as he stalks toward me.
He takes my face in his hands, plants a very public kiss on my lips that lasts a little too long and works me up a little too much, until Gordon clears his throat next to us.
Blushing, I pull away first as Garrick pulls me into his chest and wraps his arms around me. My husband, probably grinning, says to his new manager, “Sorry, mate. Don’t fancy you enough to show you the same appreciation.”
Gordon snorts. “That’s fine by me. Are you ready to leave?”
Garrick repositions us so his arm is draped over my shoulders as the three of us walk toward the side exit that’s near our parked car.
I look up at him and whisper, “You know I love you too, right? I know we have stuff to work through still, but it’s true.”
His eyes heat as he bends down and kisses me again, keeping pace with his manager as we exit the building. Breaking away only to hold the back door open for me to slide into the car, he slides in next and takes my hand. His finger runs over the ring that’s been there since the day we went to see my parents. I only take it off to shower. “I was waiting for you to say it. Hoped.”
Nibbling my lip, I stare at our joined hands. “Better late than never, I guess.”
His smile is enamoring. “Is it too soon to talk about kids?”
I choke on my air.
Gordon chuckles.
Garrick winks.
Somehow, the thought isn’t that scary.
Epilogue
Rylee
“Ry?” Garrick calls from the front of the house. Once the door closes, footsteps come toward the kitchen where I’m standing at the counter.
He walks over and pecks my cheek, examining the mess of cheese sticks and Panko crumbs littering the countertop, then the tablet resting against the wall with a video pulled up.
I turn and smile at him. “Remember that girl I found on YouTube who does healthier recipe videos that don’t taste like cardboard?”
His face pinches in contemplation. “The one that’s married to that American football player?”
Nodding enthusiastically, I point the knife toward the screen where the video is paused. “Yes! Ivy Griffith. Her husband is the tight end for the New York Giants. Anyway, she uploaded this new recipe for air fried mozzarella sticks, and I wanted to try it. All the other stuff we’ve made from her videos have been a huge hit. Even your mom liked them.”
Garrick snickers, pecking my lips and pushing away to get water from the fridge. “I’m not so sure Mum loved those pizza chickpea things you made.”
I turn to him. “But she loved the chocolate ones.”
He simply shakes his head, leaving me to wonder if Elaine was just being nice and pretending to like them for my sake. It’s like when I stupidly suggested we go to Outback Steakhouse together for dinner and she scoffed every five minutes at the menu options.
Mental note: Don’t bring Australians to Outback Steakhouse.
Sighing, I set down the knife and continue on with preheating the fryer. “I reached out to her,” I tell him.
“Mum?”
I roll my eyes. “No, Ivy Griffith.” Lining the mozzarella sticks into the basket, I glance over my shoulder at him. Garrick’s eyes are plastered to my ass, and when he realizes he’s been caught all he does is give me a cocky smirk before taking a sip of his drink. “She’s going to be on my blog. We’re doing an interview and a question-and-answer type thing. It’ll boost both of our blog’s audiences, which Gordon says will be great for more advertiser interest. Something about how cross posting will be mutually beneficial. Remember how I told you a while ago that her cooking blog Every Cook and Cranny has, like, a billion viewers monthly?”
He hums again.
“Well, imagine what that can do for The Real Matthews,” I conclude, popping the basket into the air fryer and hitting a few buttons to start cooking the contents.
Ever since Gordon helped me set up a lifestyle blog, the posts have gained traction. It was one post in particular that made the blog go viral overnight.
“Introducing the Real Garrick Matthews.”
Since, we’ve had loyal followers keep in touch, interact on the posts—mostly in positive ways—and comment on how refreshing it is to see me and Garrick in a light that hasn’t been blasted by mainstream media in a negative way.
After the interview announcing the official split of Violet Wonders hit headlines everywhere almost five months ago, the public went into a buying frenzy to get their hands on the last album they’d ever have from the band. Even though it wasn’t anybody’s intent, the album sold more than almost all of their older ones, and their songs are still sitting at the top in the charts. There were a few tabloids and online bloggers who said the breakup was a ploy to get more sales, but the people who follow Violet Wonders religiously know better than to believe that.
Especially because Zayne entered rehab shortly after the interview hit the media. He stayed for a month before getting released and stayed clean for two months following that before relapsing again. Garrick still has trouble talking about it since he wasn’t the one his best friend called about getting help. It was Manning that called my husband in the middle of the night saying Zayne overdosed and was rushed to the hospital after being administered Narcan.
The former drummer of the band is still at the same high end rehabilitation center since being discharged from the hospital, but his interactions with his friends, Garrick included, has been limited.
The biggest reason why The Real Matthews blog does so well is because Garrick and I decided not to shy away from the topics that most people would try censoring. Whenever commenters ask about Zayne or the others, I always ask Garrick and Gordon before answering truthfully. The posts don’t ignore what’s going on since the breakup which is why there are people who subscribe to the lifestyle site and stay in tune with what’s really happening versus what the tabloids report on.
“That’s great you’re interviewing her,” Garrick says with a smile. “I know you’re a fan. Although I’m not sure anything will top Cannon Rhodes being a guest. You’re welcome for that, by the way.”
Blushing, I remember the birthday surprise that he’d given me back in April that involved my all-time favorite celebrity. Even though he grumbled the entire time I squeaked through a conversation with Cannon, Garrick was more amused than anything. I got to interview him for my blog which had gotten a lot of attention, especially when The Wild’s media team shared it on all their social pages.
The man watching as I prepare my latest dish has helped me get guests on the blog at least once a month, sometimes more. It’s become something I deemed “Feature Fridays” that subscribers always look forward to. And along with them, the sponsors who send me things to feature in the videos and Q&A interviews.
I didn’t think it was possible to make money doing something I loved until Gordon proved otherwise. I didn’t think he was serious when he said people would pay me to use their things or namedrop companies or even get paid based on how many people tuned in to my posts.
It started off slow, but ever since a few posts have gone viral and the overall viewership has increased into the steady millions, it’s helped me contribute to things I never could before—my medicine and bills, especially.
And even though Garrick has never said it, I’ve sensed his worry about me being able to pay for the things I needed him for before. All it took was a soft, lingering kiss while sitting on his lap and wrapping my arms around his neck one night to convince him I’d still need him regardless of what my blog was earning me.
That and the quiet “I love you” I’d whispered between kisses, which had caused his heart to thump wildly from where our chests were pressed together. He’d drawn back, eyes dark, and said, “I love you too.”
Now those words have become a staple in our house. Something to say when we wake up, when one of us leaves, and before we go to sleep. They’re words of comfort and promises, something that reassures we’ll never get tired of the routine we’ve built together.
Walking over to him, I wrap my arms around Garrick’s middle and let out a gentle sigh as he winds one of his arms around my waist.
“What was the sigh for?” he asks.
“Just thinking.”
“Well, don’t leave me hanging, love.”
I grin against his chest. “This is nice, that’s all. You, me, Kit-Kat wherever he’s hiding right now. I always look forward to you coming home and watching me make a mess of the kitchen.”
He chuckles. “I enjoy it as well.”
Tilting my chin up, I give him a smile.
“We should get married,” he states.
My brows pinch. “Haven’t we already accomplished that? Or is this where you tell me that it was never a legal done-deal thing and all this time we’ve been really lying to people.”