“Not the phone, what’s on it.”
“Okay,” I search his gaze, still not really comprehending. “I’m listening.”
He walks over to the entertainment unit and plugs the phone into the iPod dock. With a few taps, the sound of a bare piano filters through the room. It’s haunting and so beautiful, and after a beat, a gravelly voice begins to sing.
I glance at Levi, because though I don’t get to hear his singing voice often, other than on backing vocals for Coop, I recognise it instantly. I don’t recognise the song, though. “You wrote this?”
“Think of it as a gift to the two of you.” He shakes his head. “Fuck. Coop already got my girl, and here I am giving him a wedding gift too? There’s something wrong with my fucking head.”
I swallow back the lump in my throat. “I love it.”
Levi takes several steps towards me and holds his hands outstretched. “Dance with me?”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“Why not? Afraid I’ll steal you away?” His mouth turns up in a wolfish smile. It feels like forever since I’ve seen him grin like this. “Come on, Red. One last dance?”
I sigh and take his hand. “We never had a first dance.”
“We were dancing from the second I first laid eyes on you, or at least I thought we were. Turns out I was just over here dancing on my own like a tool.”
“You just haven’t found the right partner yet, but when you do, she’s going to make anything you had with me seem inferior, like wasted time. And I think it will kill me, as much as I love Coop, and I do love him, more than anyone will ever know, you’ll still break my heart when you find her.”
I lean up and press a kiss to his cheek. Levi being Levi, turns his head quickly so that my lips are pressed against his. He pulls me closer, pressing me so tightly to him I can’t breathe and pushes his tongue into my mouth. I don’t kiss him back. I wait. A beat later he pulls away, and I stare up into those shining green eyes. I press my hand to my lips and then quickly reach up and wipe the smear of my red lipstick from his mouth.
“You shouldn’t—”
“I know. I had to give it one last try, though.” He shrugs. His eyes are bloodshot and filled with so much sorrow that I feel it like a knife in my chest. “See if I couldn’t still get you to run away with me.”
“I’m marrying Cooper. I love Cooper.”
“You loved me once too. Maybe not as much as him, but you still did.”
“I still do. A part of me will always love you, Levi.”
“But you love him more.” The way he says this isn’t a question, it’s a fact we both know. It’s the reason I’m standing here in a frou-frou dress, about to be the centre of attention in a wedding I didn’t really want. I just wanted the man at the end of the altar forever. I could do without the dress, and the guests, the cake, and a big celebration. I could do without all of it, but I couldn’t do without Cooper Ryan.
I nod imperceptibly, and even though we both knew the answer already, he lets out a huge sigh. It’s as if we’re transported back to that parking lot outside Charleston where he begged me not to leave them, not to leave him, to choose him, and I can see for the second time in my life this man’s heart breaking right in front of me.
“Right, well. I need a big fuckin’ drink, and you need to dry your eyes and give yourself to the lead singer of my band, so ...” He takes a step away and glances me over from head to toe. “Congratulations. I hope it’s everything you dreamed and more.”
“Levi—”
“Don’t worry about me, Red. Your open bar is gonna be my girl tonight, and after that, who knows?” He shakes his head, and his shoulders sag in defeat. “Who gives two fucking shits?”
“I do,” I say, taking a step towards him. “We all do.”
Levi exhales. “Couldn’t you let me be a teensy bit dramatic. I don’t get to be a diva very often. That’s Coop’s job.”
I laugh because I know how Cooper gets on the road. It’s his way or the highway. But stubborn arse or not, I still love him. I can’t help it. “Just don’t fall off the radar, okay? I’m still your friend.”
“We were never friends, Ali.” He pushes a strand of hair that’s come loose from my chignon out of my eyes. “I’m not sure we can ever be friends, but if that’s the only way I get to have you, I’ll try. Can’t promise I won’t sneak a kiss every once in a while, just to piss him off.”
I chuckle. “Get out of here, arsehole.”
He holds his hands up in surrender. “Going.”
Levi opens the door and glances back. His brows knit together, and his eyes are glassy. He looks me over, head to toe, and takes a deep breath in through his nose. “I've never hated him as much as I do right now.”
I give him a sad smile, swallowing the lump in my throat. The door snicks softly closed behind him, and my whole body deflates. I sniff back my tears, so they won’t ruin my make-up. It doesn’t work. Within seconds they’re streaming down my face unchecked. Thank God, I didn’t wear white. I grab a tissue and blot in the mirror. I remove the smear of make-up from Levi’s kiss, and then I grab the bottle of champagne from the table and chug back huge gulps. By the time Deb and Tim come back into the room, I’m no longer crying, but I still look a wreck.
“Jesus Christ, you look like shit.”
“Thank you, Deb.” I heave a huge sigh. “That’s just what every bride wants to hear ten minutes before she walks down the aisle.”
She shrugs, but for a brief second, I meet her gaze, and I think I see empathy in them, and then I know I must have drunk too much because my soon-to-be sister-in-law doesn’t do empathy ... in a big way. She pulls out her phone and dials a number. “Yeah, hi, it’s the maid of honour here.”
I frown at her. I don’t remember promoting her but seeing as she’s the only friend I have in the bridal party who isn’t male, I guess it’s a fair assumption of her to make. “Can you come fix her make-up? She had to go and get overly emotional about her ex, and now it looks like she just got drowned in the Mediterranean.”
Tim stands behind me, I meet his gaze in the mirror. “You okay?”
“No. But I will be.”
“That’a girl.” He wraps his arms around me and rests his head on my shoulder. It isn’t sexual. Tim’s like a brother to me, and has finally found a girl who treats him right. He’s not doing anything to mess that up. “I know it hurts, but you made the only decision you could live with.”
“I know.” I swallow hard. “It just sucks, seeing him in pain like that. Knowing that I’m the cause of it.”
“All right, Jones,” Deb says. “Quit cryin’ like a little bitch and get your shit together. Make-up and hair are on their way to fix your damn face. Again. And if you fuck it up with tears before you get to the altar, I’m going to kick your arse.”
CHAPTER NINE
THE END
LEVI
I stand with my bandmates as the first strains of “All I Want is You” begin to play, and Ali appears. She’s fucking breathtaking in her black gown, her hair pulled back from her face in a messy, totally Ali way, and of course those fucking lucky red cons. Coop made the entire bridal party wear them. I stare at her, wishing she’d glance in my direction, just once, but she doesn’t.
Of course, she doesn’t.
She isn’t here to marry me. She didn’t choose me. She chose him. She chose all fucking wrong, but I guess she’s doing this new thing where she doesn’t listen to reason.
I’m not mad at her. I let this happen. I pushed Cooper fucking Ryan right back into her arms, and I only have myself to blame. I tried to be all noble and give the woman I love the happiness she deserves.
I’m a fucking idiot.
And here we are. Her walking down the aisle towards another man, and me silently begging her, pleading with her to look at me, to see me, to take my hand and let me lead her away, but I know that would never happen, and there’s nothing that can be done about it.
&n
bsp; The angry French girl from the pool yesterday draws out the final note from her cello and lowers her bow just as Ali takes her place alongside Cooper. The celebrant begins the ceremony. I can’t hear a thing but the whooshing in my ears, and then my band brother and best friend Ash is leaning into me. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just fucking peachy.”
“Dude, no one would blame you for skipping out early.”
“I can’t do that,” I say automatically, but as soon as the words have left my mouth, I wonder why that is. Is it because I have to see if there’s even the slightest hint of hesitation from her, or is it because I just love to torture myself?
“Levi—”
“Let it go, Ash,” I whisper in a hiss. Deb, Zed, Coop, and Ali all swivel their heads and glare at me.
Coop’s brow is all pinched up as if he’s annoyed, but for the first time since I left her room, Ali’s eyes meet mine, and I discover that the absolute worst thing besides losing the woman you love to your bandmate, is having that woman look at you on her wedding day with pity in her eyes.
While she’s staring at a future filled with happily ever after, I’m looking at the end of mine.
The celebrant continues, casting me a pointed glare when she says, “Let’s proceed.”
I swallow back the bile burning my throat and continue to stare at Ali.
This is it.
Any second now she’s going to turn to me and say she made a mistake. That she doesn’t love him, and that my world isn’t going to be ripped apart ... because she’s choosing me. Only she doesn’t turn to me, she doesn’t say the words I’m longing to hear, but instead, she says the worst possible thing I can ever imagine coming from her lips. The worst thing, when she’s not directing those words at me.
“I do.”
Coop sweeps her up into a full-out kiss, and I do something I should have done the second Red asked me to fuck her. I walk away, and I don’t look back.
CHAPTER TEN
CHEERS DARLIN’
LEVI
“Meow yourself,” I say, as Angry French Girl joins me at the bar. The reception is due to start any minute, and I’m sure she’s supposed to be greeting the guests with the sound of her cello as they arrive, but it seems AFG didn’t get the memo about the reception starting early—at least for me, anyway. She smiles at the bartender and orders in French. Fuck. That’s hot, and if I weren’t so goddam miserable, I’d push her up against the bar and tell her she was going to be a little late in starting her set.
I don’t know if she’s deliberately flirting with the help, and fuck knows what the hell they’re saying, but I don’t like the way he looks at her. I don’t like the dismissive way she looks at me, so I slam my glass down on the bar and jerk my head at the waiter.
His arrogant gaze slides to me, then back to AFG, as if to say, “Can you believe this guy?”
“Fill it up, sweetheart.” I shoot him a wink. He looks horrified. “And keep ’em coming.”
“Are you taking my advice to sleep with a French man after all?”
“That depends. Are you finally going to give me your room number, because I should warn you now, I am an expert at navigating threesomes.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh. It just so happens I’m so good at sharing, that I gave away the bride to that fucking douchebag Ryan.”
“Okay, well good luck with that,” she says, but her eyes are no longer on me, they’re firmly fixed on the bartender, as if she’s commiserating with him. “Excuse me, I have to tune my instrument.”
I nod to the cello resting in its stand against the far wall of the room. “You’re good.”
“No, I am the best.”
I chuckle. “I have no doubt.”
“Too bad you’ll never find out how true that statement really is.” She walks away.
I slide off the bar stool and grab her wrist, pulling her up short. “You need to stop walking away from me, Angry French Girl.”
She glances coolly at her wrist held in mine. “And you need to learn how to take a hint, roi de la chatte.”
The bartender makes a choking sound, and I have no idea what she just called me, but I want to hear it again and again, as I pound my dick inside her. I’m just about to extend the invitation when we’re interrupted by a geriatric giant.
“Levi! What the fuck, man? I’ve been looking for you all over.” Zed.
“Fucking, cock blocker,” I hiss.
“Hey, you’re the cellist.” Zed points to AFG, unable to take the fucking hint that he’s not welcome here. “You’re really good.”
“Merci.”
“Do you have a card or something?”
“Oui, one moment.” She holds up a finger to indicate he should wait and she pulls a business card from her tiny purse and hands it to him. Fucking arsehole. I’m trying for a whole twenty-four hours to get a number out of this woman, and Zed accomplishes it in two seconds flat. “Excusez-moi. I have to go, or I’m afraid I will be fired.”
She slinks off. I yank the card out of Zed’s hand and study it. Brielle Kagawa. That’s not a French name. Or ... maybe it’s only half a French name. Underneath is her phone number. I pull out my phone and save it to my contacts. “Thanks, I’ve been looking for this.”
“You’re welcome.” He gives me one of those child-like grins and claps me on the shoulder. “Now come on, they need us for photos.”
“I’m not taking any fucking photos. Red and Ryan don’t want me messing up the snapshots of their happy day, anyway.”
Fuck. Even their names match. Arseholes.
And just like that, I’m reminded all too keenly why alcohol is going to be my girl tonight.
I SIT BY THE BAR AND down another shot of patron. Weddings suck balls. Correction, weddings suck balls when you’re in love with the bride. Usually I love weddings, the booze, the cake, the women. This wedding though? It was perfect. A goddam fucking fairy tale in the French Riviera. No paps, no reporters, no helicopter hovering overhead. Just stars and romance and lovey-dovey shit enough to make me want to puke. Or maybe that’s thanks to the half bottle of patron I’d consumed since sitting at this very bar.
The hauntingly sorrowful sounds of AFG’s cello float all around me. Cutting, eviscerating, flaying me open, and tormenting me as I throw back shot after shot of liquor. I am Bromios. Roaring, boisterous, and drunk. No matter how much I consume tonight, it won’t be enough. Never enough.
Shouldn’t music tame the savage beast? Here, hers was eating me alive, engulfing me as if it were fire, and razing my pain to ruin. I wasn’t lying before when I said she was good. She’s fucking incredible, and I might even be able to enjoy it had she not been playing a Muse song. Fucking Muse. Who gave her this set list? I know it wasn’t Coop, ’cause he hates Muse as much as Ali and I do. Still, everything else she’s played tonight has been rock fucking solid. She hasn’t lifted her gaze once. She isn’t checking out the dance floor or seeing which celebrity she can spot next. Her eyes are closed, her face is expressive as hell, and she’s here for the music and the music alone—though I’m sure the hefty pay cheque Coop is likely giving her is an added bonus.
“Dude, there you are,” Zed says, as he sits his arse down on the stool beside me and slaps a hand over my shoulder.
“I haven’t moved all fucking night, Zed.” I salute him with a shot, throwing back the liquid and slamming my glass down on the bar. “Lucky you found me.”
“How you holding up?”
“The woman I love just married my fucking bandmate. How the fuck do you think I’m holding up, cunt rag?”
He nods emphatically. “You’re right, that was a stupid question.”
“Aren’t they always with you?”
“Hey, I resent that, man.”
I raise my shot glass and indicate to the barkeep for another. The bastard hardly speaks a word of English. Fucking France. Who gets married in France, anyway? Oh yeah, my arsehole bandmate. That’s who. The waiter looks
like a douche. I don’t know that it’s any one thing in particular that I loathe about him, or if it’s just that he can’t seem to fill my glass quick enough, but I wanna kick his arse.
And where the fuck is Ash? When we started this band, it was always Zed and Coop. They were inseparable, they were brothers, and surprise, surprise, I was the third wheel. But when Ash came along, we gained a bass player, but I gained a brother. I didn’t have to be the third wheel anymore, until Coop and I fell in love with the same woman that is. Ash’s supposed to be keeping tabs on me tonight, though I guess it’s lucky he’s not. It means I can drink as much as I want to. And speaking of, I grab Zed’s drink and down the lot in one go. Wincing when I don’t feel the bitter afterburn of alcohol.
“Jesus, fuck! What is that?”
“Water,” he deadpans.
“Why the hell are you drinking water?”
Zed shrugs. “I haven’t had my daily quota.”
“Christ. Dude, could you just be a normal fucking rock star for once? Order a goddam real drink.” I swivel in my seat when I hear the first strains of “Give Me Love”. “Oh, fuck me! Ed Sheeran now, really?”
Several of the guests turn in my direction and glare, including Coop’s mum, who’s always been a snooty bitch. Angry French Girl doesn’t miss a beat. She doesn’t even know I’m here. Story of my fucking life. But the man of the hour notices. He kisses his beautiful bride on the cheek and stands from the table, pushing back his chair. Ali grabs his arm, but he leans in and whispers something in her ear and she lets go.
“Okay, come on.” Zed grabs a fistful of my tux, hefting me off my seat. My legs threaten to go out from under me, but I hold firm. Or maybe I’m just as pathetic as a kitten held by the scruff of the neck. Either way, I stay upright so ... winning.
Coop comes up behind me. I know it’s him without looking because I’d know that cocky arsehole anywhere. There’s a magic that happens when you play music with another gifted musician. I might hate his fucking guts, but I could pick his energy out in a crowd full of rock stars. Course, he and I fucked his lovely wife together for a series of months on the road, so just like Ali’s, I’m pretty sure I’d know his scent anywhere too.
Tainted: The Complete Enemies-to-Lovers Rock Star Romance Box Set Page 34