Chapter 29
Chapter twenty-nine
Trey
I Believe in a Thing Called Love – The Darkness
Gravel crunches under the tires as we pull into the drive, sunlight flashing across the hood like a camera flash.
Behind us, a black SUV with security hums low and steady, their tinted windows catching every move we make.
I’m not even sure when they fell in behind us.
Maybe they’ve been stalking the whole damn way and only now decided to make themselves known.
Sneaky sons of bitches.
Do they get packed lunches?
Pretty sure half of them run on a diet of gunpowder, nicotine and whiskey.
I like them.
Sera’s quiet beside me, fingers twisting in her lap, hair pulled into one of those messy knots that makes her look accidentally perfect. Breakfast, laughter, and an incredibly tense trauma-off.
Go fish, but for childhood damage.
Does my dad get bonus points for being an alcoholic, or does hers win for being sober and just a piece of shit hiding behind religion.
For a second, I think maybe we’re in the clear. That maybe we get to stay in this bubble a little longer. But life’s a bitch with perfect timing. Because standing at the front gates—pressed slacks, mirrored sunglasses, and a look of disapproval—is Phil.
Our manager.
The man, the myth, the migraine.
He’s leaning against a silver Porsche SUV, deep in conversation with one of the security guys, and the second he spots us, his head snaps up like a hawk sighting prey.
“Ah, fuck,” I mutter, dragging a hand through my hair. “Here we fucking go.”
Sera tenses, eyes wide. “Who’s that?”
“Phil. Burnt Ashes’ manager.” I exhale through my teeth, already bracing for impact. “And before you ask—no, I didn’t tell him about the wedding.”
Her head whips toward me. “Trey!”
“Hey, hey, don’t look at me like that,” I say, grinning even though my stomach’s doing flips. “He’s got this thing where he freaks out when one of us does something impulsive—like not turning up to a venue or event, or I dunno… getting married to a nun.”
“Trey—”
“Relax, baby.” I kill the engine and turn toward her, lowering my voice.
“We keep it close to the truth, yeah? We met in Portland, at the church, in summer—during a time we were avoiding our tour after losing Braden. Mac’s brother.
Then Mac got into an accident and lost eight years of memories, and they came back slow until she was fully recovered.
Then Logan, her now-boyfriend, the guy who supported her through all of it, was sho—”
“This lie is too complicated, Trey. I won’t remember all of this…” Sera cuts in.
“Nice. Mac joke. She’ll like that one.”
“Trey, I am so confused right now.”
“Sorry, Dove. It’s all true.”
“What? Wait, what?”
“Yeah. It’s all true. It gets juicier.”
She just stares at me, trying to figure out if I’m screwing with her. I wish I were.
“So…there really is no lie?”
“I mean—no?”
Her lip’s part, caught between laughter and panic.
“The plan is…there is no plan?”
I flash her a crooked grin. “I’ve been bullshitting Phil since I was seventeen. You just smile and wave, while I put on a bullshit clinic for Simon Scowl over there.”
Outside, Phil’s already striding across the gravel, clipboard in hand, ready to interrogate. I squeeze her knee, wink once, and murmur,
“We got this.”
Phil’s already halfway to the truck by the time I step out. His posture says business meeting, but his face says intervention.
Great.
“Morning, Philip. Phil-meister.” I plaster on my best grin—the one that’s saved my ass in at least four interviews and three assault charges. “You’re up early.”
He doesn’t even crack a smile. His sunglasses tilt down just enough for me to catch the fury brewing underneath.
“TMZ and E are saying you are married to some fucking nobody? You’ve been ghosting me for forty-eight hours, and your location’s been pinging all over Oregon. You wanna tell me what the hell’s going on?”
Call her a nobody again and I will dislocate your fucking jaw.
“Don’t be rude about the love of my life, or I will defend her honor.” A little bit of Britishism seeps out, and it has Phil pause.
“Explain, Baker.” Though for a moment he seems to hesitate, he soon finds his footing.
“When you know, you know.”
“Trey.” The single syllable drops like a gavel.
Sera steps out on her side, sunlight catching her hair like it’s lit from within. Phil’s building rant—stops. His mouth actually drops open.
I round Black Betty and slide an arm around Sera’s shoulders, the picture of proud, slightly hungover husband energy.
“Phil, this is Seraphina.” I pause for effect. “My wife.”
Silence. A seagull screams somewhere overhead. The security guard takes a slow step back like he’s trying to get out of the blast zone.
Phil blinks once. Twice.
“You’re serious?”
“Legally speaking, vows, rings, potential tax benefits. It’s a whole thing.”
“Jesus Christ.” He drags a hand down his face, sunglasses nearly toppling off. “You’re telling me you went to Portland and—what—got married?”
“Ahh! None of that around the wife, she’s a lady.”
Sera’s trying so hard not to laugh, she bites her lip, eyes darting between us. Phil looks between her and me like he’s waiting for a punchline that never comes.
“Tell me this is a PR stunt. Please tell me you didn’t legally bind yourself to someone you met on a road trip.”
“Oh, it’s real,” I say, patting Sera’s hand. “Signed, sealed, sanctified... and not to mention, beautifully consummated.” I say, flashing my award-winning smile.
Sera’s cheeks begin to glow.
Phil stares at me for a long beat, the vein in his temple pulsing. “You have one week,” he says finally, voice tight.
“One week to convince me this isn’t another one of your impulsive—” his gaze flicks to Sera again, softening just a hair “—insane ideas.”
“Convince you?” I echo, feigning offense. “Phil, buddy, I don’t need to convince you of love. That’s between me, my wife, and whatever higher power blessed my—
“Don’t finish that sentence,” he warns, hand shooting up.
I grin.
“—heart. I was gonna say heart.”
He sighs—long, tortured—and trudges back toward his SUV like a man walking into his own execution.
“I swear to God, Phil,” he mutters to himself, already defeated. “You can’t take on these boys. They’ve not got their shit together…should’ve taken that Korean girl rock group instead… fucking idi—”
“Love you too, Phil!” I shout after him.
He doesn’t even flinch. Just keeps grumbling as he yanks the door open and slams it hard enough the whole vehicle shudders.
“I can’t believe you just—”
“Dazzled my bands manager, with wit and charisma?” I grin, sliding my hand to the small of her back. “A higher power really did bless my—”
“Heart.” she shakes her head, laughing under her breath as we start toward the house.
“Maybe,” I say, nudging her hip with mine. “But if you want to bless my cock, I wouldn’t be opposed.”