Chapter 4
4
KATRINA
I shuffle into the hotel restaurant just before eight-thirty, my freshly washed hair pulled back into a simple bun. The hostess spots me and waves me through, pointing me toward the private table tucked behind a screen. I nod my thanks without breaking stride, my fingers smoothing down the front of my sundress. A stray wisp of hair escapes, and I tuck it behind my ear—one last tweak before I step into the deep end.
I hear them before I see them. Botsford laughter. That unmistakable, booming sound that cuts through the hum of the restaurant like a foghorn. Even in the most upscale places, they’re impossible to miss.
Stepping past the screen, I pause for half a second, taking in the sheer size of them. I always forget how massive the Botsford family is until I’m standing right in the middle of them.
Kingston sits at the head of the table, Fiona at his right, Graham—their oldest son—on his left. Next to Graham is his wife, Jennifer, bouncing little baby Beverly on her knee. Then Hayden, the second Botsford son, and his wife, Penelope. Ira and Veronica sit beside them, their infant son, Remy, perched on Ira’s lap, looking bigger every time I see him. Rounding out that side of the table is Milly, the Botsfords’ long-time nanny, and Oliver—the honorary fifth Botsford son, who once lived with the family when he had nowhere else to go.
Across from them is Criminal Records. My brother, Knox, with Harmony always at his side. Then Jordan and Bronson, their hands lovingly clasped under the table. Harvey Moon sits beside them, staring at Addison like she was made of stars. An empty chair between Addison and Fiona waits for me.
And at the far end of the table, sitting opposite of his father, is Jonah.
Our eyes meet for half a second. His smile falters.
“Katrina!” Fiona’s voice pulls me back. She pats the empty chair beside her. “You’ve finally joined us.”
I move toward the chair. “Yes. I’m so sorry I’m late, everybody. I, uh…” I sit down, heat creeping up my neck. “I overslept.”
“Damn,” Hayden says, leaning back in his chair. “And here I thought Marla’s party was gonna be the lame one.”
“My bachelor party was not lame,” Jonah fires back, shooting his older brother a glare.
“The girls are hungover. We’re not. I’d say that’s pretty lame, bro.”
Laughter rolls across the table, and I use the distraction to settle in, reaching for my napkin.
Fiona pats my hand. “Happy to see you,” she says warmly.
“Thanks.” I exhale, finally catching my breath as I unfold it. “You, too.”
“I ordered you an egg white omelet. Your favorite, right? Should be here any second now.”
“Oh.” I smile, touched as always by her thoughtfulness. Ever since I escaped my family, Mama Botsford has looked out for me in ways my own mother never did. “Thank you so much.”
She squeezes my hand before sweeping a matronly gaze over the table, making sure everyone has what they need before letting the conversation pull her in again. The Botsford boys are already onto another lively debate, their voices overlapping as they argue over something ridiculous, I bet.
But beside me, Addison is staring.
“Where were you?” she asks.
“Nowhere,” I say quickly.
“Nowhere?”
“My room. I was in my room.”
“No, you weren’t,” she says flatly. “Harvey and I banged on your door. You didn’t answer.”
“I was in the shower.”
“An hour ago?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes flick to my still-damp bun. “Why is your hair still wet?”
My mouth opens, but before I can stammer out some brittle excuse, Jonah rises to his feet. He taps his spoon against his flute of bright orange mimosa, clearing his throat.
“Everyone,” he says, his voice cutting through the chatter. Conversations fall silent. Heads turn. “Now that we’re all here, there’s something I want to say.”
“Oh, here we go,” Oliver quips.
“I know,” Jonah says, waving a hand as the others chuckle. “It’s gonna be a day full of toasts and speeches, but I promise we’ll get through it. Also, it’s my wedding day, and you all have to do what I want, so shut up.”
Knox raises his glass toward Kingston and Fiona. “Open bar will help,” he jokes.
Laughter ripples around the table as we all grab our drinks and lift them in silent agreement.
Jonah exhales, settling into his words. “I wanted to have this breakfast with all of you today because I consider every one of you family… and Hayden.”
“Wha—?” Hayden starts, but the rest of the table is already laughing at his expense.
Jonah smirks, his expression softening as he takes in the faces around him.
Before his eyes even reach mine, I drop my gaze to my hands.
“Each of you shaped who I am,” he says. “Through lessons, through loyalty, through the stories you’ve lived and the kindness you’ve shared. I carry pieces of all of you with me.”
He hesitates just long enough that I feel the weight of his stare pressing against my cheek. But I don’t look up.
I can’t.
“I’m standing here today the man I am because of you. And because of you, I know I’ll be a good husband.”
My chest tightens.
“Marla is… the most important person in the world to me,” he says, his love for her woven into every syllable. “I wouldn’t have found her without you. Without everything you’ve done to make me into the man who will love, honor, and cherish her for the rest of my life.” He pauses. “So, thank you. In name or otherwise, you’re all Botsfords… and Hayden.”
Hayden snorts as the table erupts in laughter, though his grin is wide, his pride for his baby brother written all over his face.
Jonah raises his glass. The rest of us follow, my fingers shaking. I press them tighter around the stem, trying to will the tremor away, but the unease in my stomach doesn’t settle.
“Today is your day just as much as it’s mine,” Jonah says. “And just know that wherever I go from here, whether it be another tour or the start of a business venture?—”
Kingston sits forward. “Business venture?” he asks.
Jonah flicks a look at Knox before turning to his father. “We’ll talk later, Dad.”
Kingston leans back, something soft in his usually shrewd eyes. The thought of Jonah—his youngest and objectively brightest son—donning the Botsford blue suit one day, after all, might just be the best retirement gift Kingston could ever hope for.
The rest of us exchange glances. Addison shrugs. Bronson does, too. Jordan just looks irritated. Knox, on the other hand, is grinning, unfazed by Harmony’s inquisitive elbow jabs.
“Wherever I go from here,” Jonah continues, and this time, when his eyes land on mine, I don’t have the chance to look away. “It’s because of you.”
The words land in my chest, thick and sharp.
Jonah smiles, shifting his focus. “And I hope that when I return home from my honeymoon?—”
His brothers erupt in cheers. Jonah grins.
“I hope we can all sit down for breakfast together again…” He glances at the empty chair on his right, which I now realize was left open on purpose. “With a new Botsford by my side.”
“Hell yeah!” Knox shouts, setting off a fresh wave of celebration.
Glasses clink in toasts, and we all drink.
My champagne and orange juice don’t go down as smoothly as I’d hoped. The fizzy burn churns in my gut, mixing with whatever is left from last night.
When I spent the night in Logan Shock’s bed.
I shove the thought away as fast as it comes, but like the bubbles rising in my glass, the feeling refuses to fade.
BAD KITTY
* * *
I smile through the rest of breakfast.
I smile as I and the other girls gather our things and head across the street to the chapel to change into our dresses. Standing before a long mirror, I adjust the straps of my navy blue halter dress as I check for any finishing touches. The golden sash around my waist feels tight but secure, making me feel elegant despite the endless churn in my gut.
Then I smile as we all head into the bridal suite to assist Marla through her myriad panic attacks.
“Sweetie, relax,” Angie soothes, her voice light. “It’s not like you’re marrying the heir to a billion-dollar fortune with one of the most recognizable faces in rock music. Oh, wait…”
Marla nearly faints.
And I keep smiling.
I smile as I fan her face, being careful to keep her makeup flawless. Penelope’s fingers work through Marla’s hair, twisting it into elegant waves that fall around her shoulders like spun rose gold. As Jen and Veronica share stories of their perfect lives as Botsford wives (or wife-to-be-maybe-someday-probably in Veronica’s case), they help her focus on the future rather than the whirlwind of nerves gripping her.
Soon, Fiona steps in, the soft click of her heels on the floor signaling it’s almost time.
Marla rises, nervously smoothing down the front of her dress as Fiona leads her to the mirror one last time. Her plump cheeks flush a shade that matches the fiery red of her hair, her white gown clinging to every curve, the fabric shimmering as it catches the light. The train spills gracefully behind her, pooling gently on the floor like a cloud.
She looks at herself in the mirror, excitement and panic warring in her expression. She hasn’t seen Jonah in person in three months, not since the start of the Break the Rules tour.
To my surprise, she turns to me, looking for reassurance. “How do I look?” she asks, her voice small but full of hope.
“Perfect,” I answer, my throat tight with emotion.
Her eyes shine with doubt. “Yeah?”
I nod, blinking away the tears that threaten to fall as I adjust the delicate veil, the fabric soft against my fingertips. “Yeah,” I say, my voice thick. “Jonah is going to lose it.”
She chuckles nervously and closes her eyes, trying in vain to smother the tears welling up behind her lashes.
A knock on the door behind us, and Oliver pokes his head inside, his eyes pinched closed with caution. “Is it safe?” he asks.
“Come on in, Oli!” Marla says, sniffling, her smile breaking through her anxiety.
He steps in, eyes widening when he sees her. “Wow,” he breathes, his voice full of tease and awe. “Look at the princess.”
“Shut up,” Marla grins, performing a half-assed curtsy.
Oliver offers his arm with a dramatic flourish. “Shall we?”
Marla takes a deep breath, giving herself one last look in the mirror. After a pause, she nods, a soft exhale escaping her.
And I keep smiling.