Epilogue
epilogue
The Next Spring
Archer
M ars’ people brought in a team from Hardcore Security to surround the Turquoise Creek Ranch with electronic and drone surveillance for my wedding day. From what I’ve seen, this isn’t the team’s normal type of event although they seem to be enjoying the lighter duty. The local sheriff has the road past the main ranch entrances closed off, but there’s still a crowd of people milling around on the hills across the road.
The precautions aren’t for me and Bailey, but because Marcus insists on singing during the ceremony. And probably at the reception. Surprise, surprise, someone leaked his location.
Even with a six month old son, Alice is taking all the commotion in stride. Once it became known where I’d acted as my brother, she’s had to turn down reservation requests. She claims if she turned the guest house where I stayed into a Marcus Kane Museum, the entrance fees would soon pay for her next project—a play ground with an expansive treehouse across the road from the pool.
My brother has changed since he’s been sober. He’s not as reckless. Still an asshole when he doesn’t get what he wants though. He argued against me building a small studio connected to the winery and staying in Nebraska. He lost that battle. I refuse to disrupt Bailey’s life’s work. Here I can cheer her successes and commiserate her bad batches of wine. After a couple of missteps, which we ceremoniously poured out into the dusty landscape in a far corner of the ranch, her latest test batch shows promise. We’re using her spectacular plum mead for the toasts at our reception. She says I help keep her focused. Besides, I can write songs anywhere.
My beautiful woman keeps me sane. Together we’re learning how to prevent a total compulsion from taking me. When I am caught up in too much music, she calms me. Centers me. Encourages me. Loves me.
Because of her, I’ve written enough love songs to fill a double album for Mars. The slow, softer ballads have produced at least five top ten hits so far. My brother is riding the wave.
We’ve gotten closer, too. A family again. Life is beginning to feel complete.
I check my suit and brush at imaginary dirt on the sleeve. Not allowing me to see her in her dress before the wedding has been a fun game for her. I’ve played along, sneaking around trying to get a peek. I think the tradition is silly and the waiting is fucking killing me. I’m pacing the length of the room when my phone pings with a text from Bailey.
It’s about time.
I’m ready, beautiful.
I can’t wait to be your wife. I love you.
Love you, too, baby. Until forever ends.
Until forever ends, my love.