Chapter 48 The Wedding
THE WEDDING
SULLIVAN
“I’m turning around, Son.”
“As best man, it’s my duty to look out for the bride, so you turn at the correct time,” I tell my father, making him chuckle.
“And as your father who hasn’t seen his bride since we all had dinner together last night, I can tell you that’s not happening. I want to see her the second she steps into view.”
“Age has made you stubborn.”
“Age has given me everything I’ve ever dreamed of. You, Sinclair, my family… and now Hallie and the baby.”
I look up the aisle at Molly, standing in wait with Halliday’s friend, and maid of honor, Sophie, her bottom lip poking out in seriousness as she grips onto her basket of petals.
“It’ll be nice to have another little one for Molly to play with.”
“You’re a great father to her.” My father’s hand lands on my shoulder with firm, loving reassurance.
“Thanks, Dad. I learned from the best,” I reply, clapping my hand on top of his.
My father stiffens next to me, and I follow his gaze to the tree line behind Sophie and Molly.
“Take a breath, Dad,” I instruct in a low whisper.
His attention is fixed on Halliday, walking toward us in a silver wedding dress. My father composes himself with a slow inhale, a murmured curse of wonder leaving his lips. “I’m so damn blessed.”
“We want you to be happy, Dad.” I pat him on the back as Molly walks up the aisle, scattering her petals.
My throat seizes up and I blink hard.
One day she might be walking up here on my arm. And I’ll be watching my little girl get married herself.
The thought is both overwhelming and bittersweet.
“I know, and I love you even more for it, Son,” my father murmurs, completely transfixed by Halliday.
Vincent’s playing the piano to one side, and the notes of the song drift sweetly on the warm breeze. I allow each one to sink into me as I allow myself another indulgent thought.
Maybe one day I’ll be standing where my father is, watching Tate walk toward me.
Please, God.
I feel her absence today like a hole in my heart, surrounded by family and friends. All the people I love.
She should be here.
But the job she was offered was her dream. I couldn’t let her go back on her word and turn it down. Not for me. Not even for Molly.
“She found the candy before I stopped her,” Sinclair apologizes as she slides into the front row of seats.
My father chuckles as Molly flings petals about with delight from her purple candy-stained fingers. She reaches the top of the aisle after lots of ‘awws’ from the seated guests and holds her arms up to me with a proud grin.
It takes everything in me not to bawl like a baby.
“Good job,” I whisper, scooping her up into my arms.
We watch as my father and Halliday recite their vows, and Molly points to the two pictures set up on a small table at the head of the aisle, positioned so they face the two of them.
“Who dat, Daddy?” she whispers in a sweet voice.
“That’s Halliday’s sister, Jenny,” I whisper back. “She’s in heaven too.”
“Like Grandma?”
“Yes, like Grandma,” I reply. I’ve told Molly about my mother, even though they never met.
My mother would have loved Molly.
“And Uncle Shade,” Molly adds, pointing at the second photograph on the table and mispronouncing his name.
“Yeah. Like Slade,” I answer, staring at the photo that’s like looking into a mirror.
A lump forms in my throat, making it hoarse as I grip her tighter. Just me and her. The two of us. Like it’s always been.
“Daddy sad,” Molly whispers.
“Daddy’s okay,” I reply.
She gazes at me with wide eyes, then pulls me closer by tightening her arms around my neck.
The moment her soft little mouth presses a kiss to my cheek with a mwah sound, my heart cracks.
“Love you, Daddy,” she tells me.
“Love you too, Sweetheart,” I choke. “Daddy loves you too.”
Jenson’s holding Molly’s hands and performing silly dance moves with her in the center of the dance floor. Her head is thrown back in delight as giggle after giggle spills from her.
“He’s found someone to hang out with who’s the same age of mental maturity as himself.”
I snort as Vincent hands me a fresh glass of whiskey.
“I think Molly’s more advanced, personally. And she wears a bear onesie better than him.”
“True.” Vincent chuckles.
We watch the two of them for longer before he asks, “So how are you doing?”
“Fine.”
“Fine?” His tone implies he thinks I’m talking bullshit.
He knows me so well.
“I’m… wondering how she’s getting on,” I admit, begrudgingly.
“Tate’s a smart girl. She’ll be able to handle herself.”
I drink some of my whiskey so I don’t have to form an answer that’s any more eloquent than a grumbled grunt of agreement. One that also hides the unnecessary flare of jealousy that strikes me as Vincent speaks about Tate with a small hint of familiarity.
She went on one date with him. One. And she told me she didn’t want comfortable.
But the whole idea of her with any other man makes me damn un-comfortable.
Because she’s mine.
At least, in my head she always will be.
And Vincent’s right. She is smart. She’s incredible.
And I know she’s got this new job in the palm of her hand.
But I still struggle with the fact she didn’t want me to help her iron out the finer details of her contract.
It took a lot of persuading for her to relent and allow Jones to assist her, on the understanding that I stepped back and let her take the lead.
She wanted to do it herself.
She got this job off her own merit. And after all the ways I’ve interfered, I get why she wanted to negotiate it on her terms.
I just wish I knew how the hell she was. We haven’t spoken since I left for Cape Town a few days ago for the wedding.
The day I played to her in the street and told her I loved her.
The day she graciously declined my offer to help her set up things for her move to LA.
The day she also said she just needed time.
I’m trying so damn hard to give it to her, when all I want to do is call her and ask her how she is.
She’s in LA today, signing the contract for her new job.
When Molly and I get back to New York it’ll only be a couple of days until she leaves for good.
I’m praying to God the time she asked for results in her coming back and telling me she wants to make things work.
I can fly over there as much as possible. And fly her back to visit.
I’ll do whatever I can not to lose her.
Even though the churning in my gut tells me I already did.
“How’re things with you?” I ask Vincent, aware that I’m being a rude, self-pitying asshole.
“Good. Great, actually. Life in the shadows has it’s advantages. You know there’s a porn site where groups of guys are dressing up in balaclavas and banging people in organized orgies while playing live recordings of The Maestro’s music?”
“Really?” I smirk.
“There are those who need to hear the music. And those who need to feel the music, I guess.” Vincent chuckles. “Whatever man, I’m just happy it’s spreading joy.”
“And potentially STIs,” I clip, earning myself a chuckle from him.
The band slide seamlessly into another song and Molly continues dancing with Jenson, surrounded by other guests, all dancing, including Uncle Mal and Aunt Trudy.
Everyone around us is having a great time.
My father’s sitting beneath a fairy lit veranda talking softly to Halliday with one hand stroking her bump tenderly as she gazes at him with nothing but love in her eyes.
Sinclair’s melded to Denver’s side, one hand on his chest, batting her eyelashes at him as he looks like he’s grumbling to her about something.
But his hand is still low down on her back, caressing her with tenderness.
Even Killian is sitting at the bar, flirting with one of the wait staff.
Everyone is together. And happy.
I clear my throat, then drain my whiskey.
“Another?” I invite Vincent, gesturing to the bar.
His attention moves from something behind me and settles on my face.
“Nah, Buddy. I think you’re about to be needed.” He slaps me on the back and wanders away.
My eyes snap to Molly, expecting her to be looking for me. But she’s still happily dancing with Jenson without a care in the world.
“She makes a very cute flower girl.”
I spin at her voice.
“Tate?”
My eyes probably look like they’re in danger of falling out of my head.
She’s not in LA. She’s here.
She’s here.
I stare at her for a few long seconds, drinking her in like a lone man in the desert who’s just seen a mirage. A lush, tropical oasis that’ll save his life.
She gives me a shy smile, her eyes glittering. “Hi, Sullivan.”
“You’re supposed to be in LA.”
“I was. Now I’m here.”
“Now you’re here,” I echo roughly, staring at her like this will all make sense.
None of it should matter to me. She’s here. But it does matter. It matters more than anything.
I pushed her away once, thinking she was chasing her dream. But it was the wrong one. This time it’s right. And as much as it pains me, I need to know she’s not giving it up.
“Much quicker than I planned. My flight wasn’t supposed to get in until tomorrow,” she says.
“You had a flight booked? To Cape Town?”
Her eyes flick around at the wedding guests before coming back to meet mine and seeming unsure, like she’s wondering if she made a mistake. I’m still unable to believe that she’s here, right in front of me. Flesh and blood.
“I did. I wanted to see you. But then Jones ushered me onto a private jet.”
Something inside me homes in on that information. “Private jet?”
“I told him I was planning on coming here to talk to you, and he said he could help. He must have made a call to Huck because it looked a lot like the jet Huck borrowed from a friend to bring me back from tour. All silver inside.”
My narrowed gaze flicks to my father, catching him looking at us. He smiles knowingly, before turning his attention back to Halliday.
“Always useful to have friends willing to… help out,” I comment. “How did the meeting go?”
Tate breaks into a smile. “Really well. They agreed to everything I asked for.”