Chapter 24 #2
I had to stand my ground. “It’s too late, Zack. The label’s already ann—”
“The label hasn’t done shit. And they are on standby.”
“What do you mean?”
“I met with them this morning…just me. I told them I was going to ask you to stay—and I know your demand was that I go into rehab.” He let out a long slow breath and looked down at his hands folded on the table.
I hadn’t realized until that moment that they were slightly trembling.
Was that due to his emotions or was he having some kind of withdrawal symptoms?
I swallowed hard but said nothing. Instead, I pulled a chair out from the table and sat at a diagonal from him.
“Will you stay if I go to rehab?” Looking up from his hands, his green eyes pierced mine, nearly taking my breath away.
But I had to maintain my firm aura. “How would that work exactly? You guys go back on the road in less than a month.”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you. The label’s prepared to postpone the third leg if I do go to rehab. They want me clean too.”
My heart softened a bit—but I wasn’t ready to say yes. Not until what he said next.
“Dani, I’m begging you. This band won’t be the same without you. If you want me to get down on my knees, I will. I was wrong, so wrong. We need you. I need you.”
Of course, I couldn’t say no to that. If it meant Zack would get the help he needed, how could I refuse?
“I’ll agree on one condition.”
“Name it—anything.”
“I want to see the papers showing you’re signed up for treatment before I agree to anything.”
Less than twenty-four hours, he sent me PDF files of the paperwork…and the original members of Once Upon a Riot were officially back together.
Before that, though, I was at Braden’s house that night, and the family celebrated that I was back in the band.
I didn’t feel quite so optimistic and I reminded them that I wasn’t back until Zack sent me evidence of rehab.
Braden said, “The label already canceled all the tryouts and they’re reworking the tour dates. ”
That seemed like a good sign.
Julia, Braden’s mom, really did make a delicious spaghetti sauce, and she said it was because her side of the family came from Italy.
That explained Braden’s obsession with Angelo’s Restaurant.
His younger sister was out on a date, but his older sister was at the table, ready to play cards afterward.
Even his dad seemed to be in a good mood.
Julia asked, “How are the wedding preparations coming along?”
Oh, yeah. I’d been so focused on what had initially felt like a huge life change and then with the elation of rejoining the band that I hadn’t given it much thought.
As it was, we’d just chosen the colors: mauve and navy blue, and my mother was researching dress patterns.
She’d dug out her old sewing machine and planned to make the bridesmaid dresses herself when I told her I didn’t know who we were going to have in the wedding party.
Besides, we could afford to hire a tailor if she didn’t want to go to that kind of effort.
That one hurt her feelings, so I apologized profusely and told her I would love for her to sew them—but only if she really wanted to.
Now was as good a time as any to discuss it. “My mom wants to sew the bridesmaid dresses.”
“Oh! Does she need any help?”
“I don’t know.” I suspected she wouldn’t want any help—but she was going to have to get to know the Mitchells at some point. Sewing together might be a great way to do that. “I’ll ask her.”
“I used to make family pajamas every Christmas when the kids were little. But somebody used to complain that they were nerdy.”
Braden smiled. “That was just when I was a punk kid in middle school…embarrassed what my friends would think. I would proudly wear them now, mom.”
At that, Julia beamed. “Maybe we’ll have to start up that tradition again. Dani, would you wear matching PJs?”
“Heck, yeah. I love a good pair of pajamas.”
Well, that scored me points with my future mother-in-law.
“I’m a little rusty, but I’d love to help your mom out if she needs it.”
“Sounds good. Braden and I have a pretty important task,” I said, turning to him, “that I keep forgetting to ask you about.”
Putting down his fork, he reached for his glass of water. “Yeah? What’s that?”
“We have to choose the wedding party.”
“Party? Like the reception you mean?”
I almost laughed but stopped myself. “No—like the bridegroom and groomsmen, the maid of honor and bridesmaids. Oh, and a ring bearer and flower girl.”
Braden nodded. “It’s kind of a no-brainer. Zack’ll be my best man—unless he doesn’t want to do it. And Cy’ll be the groomsman. Problem solved. What about you?”
“Roxy’ll be my maid of honor.” But I’d have to have a bridesmaid too if Braden would have two guys—and of course he wouldn’t want Cy to feel left out.
It was the first time in a long time that I thought about Ava without feeling anger.
That night before the first day in high school, she’d wondered if we would be meeting our future husbands.
Little had we known then that she’d practically called it for me.
I didn’t meet him and Zack until a couple of days later… but just the thought blew my mind.
For the first time in ages, I wondered what she was doing. Was she going to college as planned? Was she living outside of Colorado? I’d told her I didn’t want to just settle…
“What about a bridesmaid?” Julia pushed.
“Oh. I’m not sure. My mom might have a cousin in mind or…”
Braden’s youngest sister, now a senior in high school, said, “I’d love to be your bridesmaid!”
“Bernadette Marie! Inviting yourself is rude!” Julia snapped.
“Just a suggestion,” she said, twirling spaghetti in her fork.
I said, “That’s not a bad idea. But, uh, maybe we should ask Brandy first.”
“Why does the oldest always get first dibs?”
Julia said, “We’ve discussed this.” She looked at me again. “It’s up to you, of course, Dani.”
“I think that’s a great idea.” To my future youngest sister-in-law, I said, “If Brandy doesn’t want it, it’s yours.”
With the sweetest look on her face, she said, “It’d be a shame if she broke her ankle.”
“Enough!” Mr. Mitchell yelled, slamming his open palm on the table. I couldn’t help but jump. Braden’s dad hardly ever said anything but, when he did like in this moment, he could be scary. Braden didn’t have a good relationship with his dad, and I imagined his grouchy demeanor was why.
But he’d gotten what he wanted. Bernie didn’t say another word…
And neither did I.