Chapter 20
Twenty
“I can’t believe you turned down a huge wedding,” Roberta said, her arm linked in mine as we walked toward the concrete steps, my vintage black shoes making pleasing clack-clack sounds on the pavement. I’d picked out a very understated, but very classy, 1920s-style day outfit to wear, and I was grateful that the normally chokingly-humid September sun was milder than usual. The black sack-style dress came down to my shins, and I had on opaque black stockings beneath, and leather mary janes that reminded me of the ladies you saw dancing the Charleston in Harlem. Around my neck was a choker on a velvet chain—a pre-wedding gift from Phillip—that held a turquoise cameo to match my ring. He’d had it custom made; I was afraid to ask him what it had cost. We’d only been back home in Brunswick for a week, so whoever he’d hired had worked at lightning speed. My hair was pulled into a low, loose bun, and atop my head sat a black bowler hat with a sleek, fine feather sticking out of it. Roberta had helped me with my makeup; we’d decided to go with the theme and do a rosebud lip in a shade of rose-red, big eyes rimmed with black kohl and feathery, jet-black lashes. Roberta had been a bit miffed to not be present for our engagement, but she’d quickly fallen into wedding planning with me, and I wasglad for it. She’d pretty much handled it all so I could sit back and look forward to the day.
“I know…he offered, but…” I licked my lips, mindful of my lipstick. “Honestly? Tess and I had a big wedding—my dream wedding, in fact—and the marriage turned out to be shit.” A fresh pang of hurt hit me in my lower belly. Despite the epic failure that had been our marriage, our wedding had indeed been lovely. Now that Tess was gone, remembering how I had laid my head on his shoulder as the salty spray from the tide had splashed over us was sweeter than ever. We’d danced in the sand, Tess’ pant legs rolled up and his bow tie discarded on a beach blanket. We’d drank sangria and laughed and frolicked until dawn. It had been one of the last times I could remember when we’d been truly happy.
I swallowed, banishing the memory. Today was not about my memories with a man who I would never see again in this lifetime. Today was about Phillip.
“Besides,” I continued, “who has the time for all that planning? Phillip’s got more shows, and I want to focus on my writing. I can’t believe GOTHzine just accepted my pitch without making me do a trial run or a writing sample or anything.”
“I can,” Roberta stated, turning to me with a smile, snapping gum. She was dressed in her own homage to the 1920s, but her flaming-red flapper dress was a lot more casual and looked absolutely fantastic with her dark hair and skin. “You can do anything you decide on, Stormy. It’s one of your gifts. You’re really off and running with this thing, and I’m proud of you. You just decide to switch careers and that’s it; you’re in!”
“I’m sure Phillip had something to do with it,” I admitted. “I hope people won’t think it’s nepotism since we’re in a relationship. I’d like people to judge me on my writing talent, if I have any, and not my husband.” As I said the words, a thrill went through me. My husband . It was weird to say that again and weirder still to feel the excited current that ran through my blood as I said it.
“I’m sure a few people will have something to say—they always do these days—but fuck them,” Roberta said as we made our way up the steps to the heavy wooden door. “Once they read your work, they’ll realize you’re the real deal.”
“I hope so.”
“I know so.” Roberta looked at me confidently. “I may have only known you a short time, but I can see crystal clear how great you are. I’m so proud of you and so happy to have you as my friend.”
“Thank you. I feel the same way about you, Burt.” Tears pricked at my eyelids as we stopped at the door, facing each other, Roberta rushing forward to give me a clumsy hug. I pulled back after a moment, nerves fluttering in my stomach. “Well, here goes nothing. How do I look?”
“Absolutely beautiful,” Roberta said, dabbing at her own eyes. She adjusted her red pillbox hat over her dark curls and gave me a wink. “But Stormy…black? At your own wedding?”
I laughed and took up her arm again. “Have you met my future husband? Did you really think we’d have a white wedding?”
“I guess not.” She grinned, and we made our way inside. “But I thought you might go the Blanche Devereaux route and wear red or something.”
“Nope. Black. Black as my heart.” I giggled. “Besides, you’re in red.”
Just as we turned to go inside, we heard a shout behind us. I turned to see Beth running toward us, her face flushed and sweaty. She was wearing a beautiful little black dress and black platform Doc Martens, and in her arms, she held a slightly wilted bouquet of dark red roses, so red they were almost black. She handed them to me, her face apologetic.
“I saw these and thought you might want to add them to your bouquet,” she said, out of breath, her eyes falling to the wilted petals. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I um, I got sick on the way.”
“Sick? What’s wrong?” I asked her, alarmed. She looked pretty worse for wear.
“Don’t tell Nikolai, it’s embarrassing, but…I was up half the night with some stomach thing. I feel like I lost twenty pounds overnight. I even had to stop halfway here and puke on the side of the road,” Beth confessed, putting a pale hand to her sweaty brow. “I was dry heaving air by the time I was done, and I still feel queasy.”
“Do you need a doctor?” Burt asked, looking Beth’s pale face over.
“Oh no, I’ll be okay. It’s likely just food poisoning. That’ll teach me to order French toast at eleven p.m. from room service. It had probably been sitting out for hours.” I grimaced. Beth was staying at a local hotel despite our urgings to for her to stay with one of us. She didn’t want to put anyone out. The idea that any of the hotels in the area, which were basically just motels, all in equal states of disrepair, would even offer room service was a surprise to me. That they’d have French toast and Beth was brave enough to eat it made me feel kind of queasy myself.
“Are you sure you want to come in? I’ll understand if you want to go back and lie down,” I said, reaching into my bag for a tissue, which I handed to her. “Your eyeliner is running just a little bit there, at the corner of your left eye.”
“Oh, damn.” Beth dabbed at her watery eye. It looked red and irritated, her undereye puffy. “It’s a new one; I should have known not to use unfamiliar products on a day like this. I got such a good deal on it though, and it’s all local. I’m just batting a thousand today, huh?” Before either of us could answer, her face turned a little green, and Beth ran around the building to be sick again.
“Consider it good luck?” Burt said, looking at me with a hopeful smile.
“How on earth is that good luck?” I asked with a laugh.
“I have no idea,” she confessed, laughing too. “I just didn’t know what else to say.”
It was quiet inside the courthouse as I dutifully went through the metal detector, accepting the elderly security officer’s congratulations with a proud smile. As I waited for Roberta to get scanned, he turned to me with a kind smile and said, “I bet I know who your groom is. He’s dressed all in black, just like you. Tall fella, with black hair?”
“That’s him,” I said, my heart thumping. “That’s Phillip.”
“He’s already in there getting your license. Down the hall and second door on the left,” the man said, reaching out to shake my hand. “Good luck to you both and congratulations.”
“Thank you.” I wiped at my eyes. Jesus H, I hadn’t even seen Phillip yet and I was already crying. I hoped my eyeliner wasn’t running. So much for choosing a courthouse wedding to avoid any heavy emotional scenes.
We made our way down the corridor, following the security guard’s directions. As we approached the door, I could see Lee leaning against the counter, his head propped on his hands. He turned, sensing us, and gave me a bright smile. His light hair was slicked back, making his freckles stand out and turning his boyish face a good five years younger. I marveled at his chestnut-colored suit. I’d never seen him wearing anything but jeans and a T-shirt, and his signature, custom UGA cap. He looked so dapper.
“Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he said suggestively, his Southern accent turned up to eleven. “Goodness gracious.”
I leaned forward and gave him a big hug. “It’s not too late to make it a double wedding,” I pointed out, batting the tears away. I couldn’t ruin my eyeliner at zero hour. “Then we’d both be married to rock stars.”
“It’s tempting,” Lee said, reaching forward to push a tendril of my hair back under my hat. “But I have to work up the nerve. I’ve put that man through a lot. He might tell me to fuck off.”
“I’m positive he won’t,” I said, smiling.
“Maybe you’re right,” Lee said, his voice turning formal. “We’ll see. As of right now, though, this is your day.” He extended an arm. “He’s right in there; shall I take you to him?”
I looped my arm in his. “Please.” I batted my eyes again, willing back the tears, realizing this was as close to someone giving me away as it would get, and it was Lee who was doing it. Lee Courtenay, after all we’d been through. It felt as though everything was coming full circle.
“Your bride is here,” Lee said as we entered the little administrative room where Phillip had his back turned to me, filling out paperwork. Lee nudged him in the shoulder, and when Phillip turned around, I gasped audibly.
He wore dark black fitted slacks with a blazer that was tight on his arms and chest, fitted perfectly. His dress shirt and tie were black too, and the buttoned collar against his pale throat made me swallow instinctively. The ensemble was similar to the sleek suit he’d worn onstage at his last show, but a classier version, all crisp, pressed lines. Phillip’s dark, spiky hair was slicked back behind his ears, and I could see that it was beginning to grow back, to get a little length to it. It was almost shaggy, and the black hair against the nape of his neck made my mouth water. He had on his usual black Doc Martens, but somehow, they looked absolutely perfect with his new suit. His green eyes gleamed as he looked me up and down, his expression full of the same awe and tender love that was undoubtedly staring back at him.
“My lady,” Phillip said, holding out his hand to take mine. When I placed it in his, he lifted my hand and kissed the tops of my fingers. “My bride. My god, you look fucking beautiful, Stormy.”
“So do you,” I said honestly, reaching in my purse with my spare hand for the black hankie tucked inside. I just couldn’t stop crying, eye makeup be damned.
“Let me,” Phillip said, and produced his own handkerchief from the pocket of his black pants. “You’ve got eyeliner on your face.” He dabbed at his own eyes first, an endearing and adorable movement that only made me cry harder. Then he reached forward and dabbed at the corner of my left eye, followed by the right. He wiped at the smudge of errant makeup on my upper cheek, then leaned down and placed a kiss there. His lips curled into the most beautiful smile as he moved to kiss me on the mouth.
“Are you ready?” he said in a whisper, his face only inches away from mine. Suddenly unable to speak, I nodded. He nodded back, our eyes locking, all the words we wanted to say flying through the air from my brain to his, from his heart to mine, without either of us having to utter a syllable out loud.
Then I was gliding back down the corridor on Phillip’s arm with Lee and Roberta trailing behind us to the makeshift chapel area, a non-denominational room with a small corner devoted to ceremony, surprised momentarily to find it wasn’t a chapel. Briefly, my brain had stopped firing, and I’d forgotten this was a government building, and those things didn’t happen in real life. And then we were standing before a guy in a slightly linty gray suit who was holding a book loosely in his hands and asking us to repeat after him. Benny stood up beside him, resplendent in his own black suit that barely covered his large shoulders and arms. I barely registered the words; I was too busy floating on air, as if I was outside my body, but my soul came crashing back into my chest as Phillip turned to me, his green eyes flashing, his face full of loving purpose, and began to recite words he’d no doubt memorized that morning.
“Stormy Spooner, I promise to love you my whole life, to honor and cherish you, to never part from you, in sickness and health, and”— his eyes twinkled and a ghost of a grin appeared on his lips—“not even death will do us part.”
My eyes filled with tears that I wiped quickly away as the officiant asked me to say my own vows. God, wasn’t I supposed to be a writer? I had prepared nothing. I’d been too nervous, too full of excited anticipation to even think of anything. I decided to just go from the gut.
“Phillip Deville, you are my miracle. I still don’t know what exactly brought you to me, or how, but I will cherish you for my whole life, honor and love you, in sickness and in health, through everything life throws our way, both chosen and unchosen adventures…” I swallowed a flood of tears, mirroring the last part of his vows. “And nothing, not even death, will part us.”
“Good,” the officiant said, nodding. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride, if you wish.”
I handed Roberta the makeshift silk bouquet, noticing she was full on sobbing into the sleeve of her red dress, bless her. I turned to Phillip with a triumphant smile, tears drying on my cheeks, ruining my carefully applied foundation, but I didn’t care. He pulled me to him, planting a sweet, feathery kiss on my temple, catching me by surprise. Then his mouth was on mine, his kiss passionate but reserved, full of reverence and romance. It was a wedding kiss; of course it was. Everything Phillip Deville did was undeniably perfect, and this was no different.
When he pulled away, his own cheeks were a little damp. His eyes were bright as he whispered, “We did it!”
“We did!” I giggled, our noses touching. “We’re married!”
“Holy shit,” he said seriously, then kissed me again, his lips brushing mine tenderly. “You’re my wife.”
“And you’re my husband,” I said, my eyes wide. “Wow.”
“Congratulations, you two!” Roberta’s voice cut into our reverie, and we both turned, smiling, to see Roberta, Lee and Benny beaming back at us.
“What now?” Phillip asked in a laughing voice after we’d signed the necessary papers and thankfully accepted congratulations from the courthouse staff. “We can’t just go home. We have to celebrate.”
“Dinner and drinks are on me,” Benny said, clapping Phillip on the back as we walked out into the parking lot. “Pick your favorite vegan joint, and I’ll call ahead. Then later, if you guys are down, back to the Wolfden to celebrate. I’ve already got champagne, beer, and rumor has it that someone might’ve whipped up a wedding cake to smash in Phillip’s face.” He winked at me, and I could feel my cheeks flush with happiness as he threw his arm around Lee and gave him a sloppy, celebratory kiss. “Weddings make me happy, so fucking sue me.”
“Maybe we’ll have one of our own one day,” Lee said tentatively, and to my delight, Benny’s face brightened and he pulled Lee close, one hand on the back of his neck.
“Maybe we will. But first thing’s first.” They turned back to us, both their faces aglow. “So what do you say, newlyweds? We down to party?”
“What do you say?” I asked Phillip happily, my arm in his. He looked down at me, his face flushed with happiness, and my heart soared.
“That sounds absolutely perfect,” he said with his best wolfish grin. Then he leaned down and whispered to me conspiratorially, “Just so long as I can go home later and ravish my wife into oblivion.”
“They’re waiting for us out at the bonfire!” I screeched as Phillip picked me up and threw me over his shoulder, carrying me through the trailer’s hallway. He had to crouch down to avoid hitting his head on the low doorframe as I kicked and flailed against him, but we both knew I was full of it.
I wanted him as much as he wanted me. More, probably. I’d been aching for him ever since I’d stood in front of him at the courthouse and we’d said our vows. As he carried me into the bedroom, which Jamie had kindly offered up to us for the second time this week so we had somewhere to change, I looked down at my hand and admired the turquoise ring there. Smiling to myself, I playfully hit Phillip in the lower back. “The party is for us, you goon! We’re the guests of honor; we can’t keep everybody waiting!”
“If you think for one second that they aren’t expecting me to absolutely smash my wife the first chance I get?—"
“Did you just say ‘smash’?” I snorted as Phillip entered the bedroom and deposited me on the bed. “Jesus, have you been on TikTok or something?”
Phillip looked down at me, miffed. “I’d never fucking go on that website.”
“It’s not a website, it’s an app.” I leered at him, pleased. There was something about him being a sexy rock god with a secret fuddy-duddy attitude toward modern times that really got me going. It was the best of both worlds.
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Come here, you.” I gestured to him, and he leaned down on the bed, his face inches from mine, close enough to plant a gentle kiss on my lips that left me wanting. “That’s not good enough, Deville.”
He grinned at me and stuck out his tongue, licking the tip of my nose. “I thought you said we had a party waiting for us. I’m ready to get out there; are you?”
“Well, since you brought me all the way in here…”
“No, we really should get out there to our reception…”
“You asshole.” I grabbed him by his black necktie and pulled him toward me. “If you don’t take off your pants right now, I’m going to divorce you.”
“You can’t divorce me.” He smiled. “You’d never.”
“I’ll get it annulled. After all, we haven’t consummated it.”
“Touché.” Phillip loosened his necktie and pulled it downward, letting it hang down the collar of his shirt; the top two buttons were already undone, and I could see the tiniest bit of black hair on his muscled chest. Christ, my mouth was actually watering. This was no good at all. Here we were just hours into our marriage and already I was totally losing the upper hand. If he didn’t make love to me right now, I was going to literally explode.
Before I knew what had happened, Phillip had pushed me down on the bed and was lying on top of me, his arms pinning mine over my head. “Keep your pants on,” he said in a low, sexy voice as he trailed his lips from my collarbone to my ear. “Or rather, take them off, I should say.”
“Get out of my head,” I protested weakly, but all the fight had gone out of me. I was too distracted by Phillip’s glorious weight on top of me and how right it felt…how soft and fine his black hair was as it tickled my face, how good his lips felt grazing my skin.
I wanted to run my hands down his arms, his hips, then back up to unbutton all the delicate little buttons on his black dress shirt, to rip it off him, and feel the hard flesh of his chest under my fingers, to play with the hair there, to tickle him the way he was tickling me before reaching down to unbuckle his belt, unbutton his pants…but he was pinning my arms down, preventing me from doing anything but receiving his kisses, kisses that were getting rougher and more intense as they trailed back down. I could do nothing but squirm beneath him and do my best to send him the X-rated thoughts that were running through my head—thoughts he was no doubt receiving, if the fervor with which he’d started kissing me and caressing me through my dress were any indication.
He moved to kiss my mouth roughly, and I moaned against him, squirming harder to free my arms. He finally let me go and laughed against my mouth as I ripped at his shirt, not bothering to unbutton it, hearing it tear. Too late, I thought, Oh no, that’s his wedding shirt, but it was done now. My hands free to roam, I ran my fingers through the dark hair on his chest and down to his taut stomach, which was tense but soft beneath my hands.
We’d done this dozens of times before, but somehow, it now felt finally, truly real. It was right and perfect and everything I’d ever wanted.
Phillip let out a low moan, then whispered in my ear, “I love you, Stormy Spooner.”
“Do you want me to take your name?” I asked, laughing a little as he turned me onto my side and unzipped my dress agonizingly slowly. “Stormy Deville?”
He pushed the dress off my shoulders and pulled me toward him again, his eyes taking in the black lace lingerie I’d worn special for the occasion. His lips curled in a smile, and he leaned down to plant a kiss on my décolletage. “Never. You’re Stormy Spooner, and that you’ll always be.”
“Good,” I said with a grin, lifting my hips to shimmy out of my dress. “I was secretly hoping you’d say that.”
Phillip rose to his knees, unbuckling his black belt and unzipping his sleek black pants, moving out of them in no time at all, with almost no effort. It never ceased to amaze me how easily he moved, how quickly…Whether he was cat-like or wolf-like, I wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, the animal magnetism and grace by which he occupied space never stopped awing me. I lay there for a moment, just staring at him, admiring his naked body by the moonlight, the faintest bits of orange light from the bonfire outside flicking their way into the windows occasionally, lighting Phillip’s chest with tiny flashes. He glowed. I smiled up at him, filled with wonder, lust, and so much love.
“I love you too,” Phillip said in a loud, clear voice, full of purpose and naked honesty, and my eyes filled with tears. Because I knew it was true.
Then his weight was on top of me again, his hands winding in my hair, his mouth against my neck, as he plunged into me, both of us gasping, eyes full of tears and hearts full of love.
“I guess we should get out there, huh.” Phillip’s voice was loud in the darkness, and my eyes flew open.
“Shit. I fell asleep.” I sat up quickly, blinking. In the pitch-black dark room, I could still see the faint flicks of orange light coming from the window, and I could hear the faraway strains of Tom Petty playing from the stereo. The sound of laughter drifted in too, and I smiled. It was our wedding night, and our friends— our family—were having a party. A party that we were missing. “How did I manage to do that? I never sleep!”
“Our hot lovin’ put you out, darlin’,” Phillip said in a mock Southern accent, pulling me onto his lap and enveloping me in his arms. He leaned down and gave me a passionate kiss, our breaths mingling as his tongue explored my mouth, and when he pulled away, I could feel his smile in the darkness. “I’m glad you got a little rest, though, even if it was only ten minutes. You needed it.”
“I guess that’s true,” I said, nuzzling into his neck. I wanted to stay here forever and never leave. I would have been content to do so; forget the party. I didn’t need anything like that when I had Phillip. My husband, my husband. But the party was in our honor, and my beloved family at the Wolfden had done so much for me…
“We have to at least show our faces,” I said, reaching out to run my fingers through Phillip’s hair. It had grown just long enough to pull into the tiniest ponytail. I couldn’t see his face fully in the dark, but I could make out his strong jaw. I leaned down and planted a kiss there. “They’re doing all this for us. I heard they even got us a wedding cake.”
“Well, I guess we’d better get out there then,” Phillip sighed reluctantly, burying his face in my chest and groaning.
“Hey, no motorboating on our wedding night!” I exclaimed, and he answered by furiously wiggling his face back and forth, making the most obnoxious noise into my bare skin. I cackled. “Stop it!”
“Never! These breasts belong to me now!”
“Gross. Come on, you pervert, let’s get outside.” I jumped up and flicked on the overhead light, squinting at the brightness that flooded the room, and grabbed the gauzy black sundress I’d brought for the occasion, slipping it over my head. As I fastened the tie in the back, I looked down at Phillip, who was lying naked on the bed with a pillow pulled over his face to block the light. He was beautiful, and he was all mine. I smiled and nudged at him with my foot. “Get up, you big lug. I have a wedding cake to smash.”
“I thought you had enough smashing for one day.” He rolled over with a wink and blew me a kiss as I pulled on my motorcycle boots, not bothering with tights or leggings. It was always humid at the Wolfden, and I’d just about sweat them off if I tried. Phillip threw on his usual uniform of black jeans and black T-shirt, brushed back his dark hair with a damp comb, and took just enough time to plant another passionate kiss on me in the doorway before we ventured outside to join the merriment, hand in hand.
The bonfire was bigger than I’d ever seen it before, the flames high enough to lick the roof of Jamie and Nikolai’s trailer from the looks of it, and all our friends—including my mother—were crowded around, holding beverages and swaying along to the stereo, which had been propped up on Jamie’s old S-10 and hooked up to huge speakers. Apparently, nobody around here had gotten with the twenty-first century and bought a Bluetooth, I thought to myself with a laugh, swaying along as I walked toward the fire, losing myself in the music. It was an old song, one I remembered Mama playing a bunch when I was a kid, a dance-techno song that went, “ I wanna know, what you’re thinking … Somebody must have let her play DJ, because this old eighties dance relic wasn’t something I imagined anyone at the Wolfden would pick.
And yet, as I grabbed an ice-cold hard seltzer from the cooler, I could see Lee and Benny over by the truck, arms around each other, bodies pressed together, swaying along with the music as though they were the only two people alive. I loved watching them. Their love was every bit as strong as passionate as Phillip’s and mine, and I genuinely hoped they’d always be together, whatever obstacles were thrown their way. And now, not only were the two of them my Wolfden family, but they were part of the band as well. The four of us would be forever joined—forever friends, forever family.
Lee must have felt my gaze on him, or felt my thoughts, because he turned and met my eye. I raised my can to him in silent salute, and he raised his own Solo cup to me, and we gave each other a silent toast. Then he turned back to Benny, resting his head on Benny’s shoulder.
We had come so far. All of us. I felt a lump of happiness in my throat. It was almost too much.
“Didn’t you want something?” I asked Phillip, gesturing to the cooler.
“Yes, but I don’t drink those weird things,” he replied, wrinkling his nose in a gesture that was undeniably adorable. “I have a bottle of something nice stashed in your car. Let me go get it.”
“Already got it,” Roberta called from over by the bonfire. “Come here, you two, and let’s see the happy couple!”
As we stepped into the light, everyone cheered. I flushed and looked down, embarrassed, but forced myself to raise my head and grin. This was a moment of celebration. I scanned each face around the fire, taking a moment to silently thank them for being here with Phillip and me, for sharing in our love. Roberta, Jamie, Nikolai, my mother, Lee and Benny, the newest addition to our group, Beth, who had followed us back from Boston, something that might’ve seemed weird to me once but now made perfect sense, and Clara, whose smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. I gave her an extra little nod of appreciation and was pleased to see her nod back at me, a silent agreement that we’d bury the hatchet—for now. Then I saw a face I didn’t recognize—a tall, dark-haired man with full lips and a beard. I stared at him for a moment, curious, then Roberta came forward and grabbed my arm.
“Stormy,” she said with a wide smile. “I’d like you to meet my brother. Jorge.” The relief and pride on her face was a beautiful thing to see. I stepped forward and shook Jorge’s hand. “Jorge, this is Stormy. Pretty much my best friend these days, god help her.”
“Why didn’t you tell me he was home?” I asked Roberta accusingly.
“It was your wedding!” she exclaimed, looking at me like I was stupid. “I wasn’t going to take away from that!”
“It’s nice to meet you, Stormy,” Jorge said with a sweet smile. “Thanks for taking such good care of my sister.”
I was so relieved for Roberta that he’d finally turned up, and that she now knew, without a doubt, that he’d had no involvement in the house fire or any of the other events that had taken place over the past month. As I’d find out later, Jorge had simply been trying to put his best foot forward and better himself before coming back home, working a temporary job to get some money saved and staying at a halfway house until he had a little nest egg. That was something I could respect.
“Thank you all for being here,” I said sincerely, putting a hand over my heart, meeting the eyes of everyone in turn. “Or I guess I should say, thanks for letting us be here. It’s been so great getting to know you all—well, again”—everyone laughed—“over the last little while, and I’m so touched and honored to be able to call you family.” I caught Nikolai’s eye and my voice wavered a little with emotion. “Some of you quite literally. You guys mean so much to me. I love you all, I really do.”
“I do too,” Phillip echoed behind me, his hand warm on my lower back. “How much you all have helped us…supported us…It means a lot to me. Thank you.”
It was silent for a moment, all of us lost in thought, in the memories of everything we’d all been through lately. God, it had been a lot. I swallowed hard. People going missing, long-lost connections, memories being recovered, break ups, make ups, drug busts, and so many deaths… It would take time for all of us to acclimate to what normal meant for us now. If normal, whatever that was, was even possible.
Roberta’s voice cut into the silence. “Come on, we can get all weepy and shit later. This is a celebration! It’s time to cut your cake! Before the damn thing melts!”
I shook my head, clearing my dark thoughts, and grabbed Phillip’s arm, excitedly leading him to the little makeshift table set up by the porch. It held a three-tiered cake that was decadently iced in thick, dark chocolate frosting with little burgundy roses. “Please tell me someone took a picture of this,” I said, my mouth watering. “Because I’m going to need photographic evidence of its beauty before I cut into it.”
“Of course I took pictures,” Roberta said, rolling her eyes. “We all did. You’re just lucky Instagram didn’t see them before you did.”
“I appreciate your restraint!” I said with a giggle.
“It’s your favorite—devil’s food cake with raspberry filling, and dark chocolate ganache,” Mama said, sidling in on the other side of me. Her eyes were a little bright, and I was touched. “The roses are edible too.”
“It’s gorgeous,” I said, touching a finger to the bride and groom that sat atop the cake. Someone had outdone themselves because they were perfect renditions of Phillip and me—the bride short with mousy, flyaway hair, and a vintage black dress and shoes, and the groom a tall, muscular figure with jet-black hair and piercing green eyes. “Who did you hire to make it?”
“We didn’t hire anyone,” Roberta said proudly. “We made it. Me, your mom, and Beth. Who knew she was a pro cake decorator?”
“I certainly didn’t,” I said, turning to the bonfire where Beth was dodging requests to do some hooping for everyone; someone had turned off the eighties dance tunes and switched it over to Alice in Chains. While they were one of my faves, I agreed with Beth that it wasn’t exactly hooping music. “When did she even have time?” I thought back to Beth’s pale, sweaty face and the sounds of her retching behind the courthouse and hoped whatever she had was indeed food poisoning and not contagious.
“She put the finishing touches on it yesterday, thankfully,” Roberta said, nudging me with her elbow. “I think she’s better today. So do you like it? And more importantly, are you two going to cut into the damned thing so we can all have a piece?”
“Yes,” I said, my eyes meeting Phillip’s, both of us grinning. I couldn’t wait to smash the biggest piece of cake right into his gorgeous face, right into that angular jaw…and then lick it off…
But I was getting ahead of myself again. “Got a knife, anybody?” I asked, and Roberta frowned, rummaging among the cutlery and napkins on the table.
“Oh damn, I forgot to?—"
“Wait, never mind,” I cut in, reaching down to my thigh. “I’ve got one right here.” I pulled out the knife Nikolai had given me, raising it for a moment to admire the intricate and beautiful handle, and the sharp silver blade. “This will do nicely, I think.”
“Where on earth did you get that?” Mama asked, her voice equal parts awe and worry. “That’s a weapon!”
“It’s a ceremonial knife,” I said, running a hand across the carvings and aiming it at Phillip’s chest, pointing the tip right at his heart. He smiled, putting a hand over the blade, pushing it in a little further so the point almost pierced his skin. He knew I’d never hurt him, but just a little push further and I could cut open his shirt, draw a little blood…I shook my head again. God, was he bewitching me on purpose? “Nikolai…” I paused, then continued. “My brother gave it to me.”
Nikolai still stood over by the bonfire by Beth, keeping a careful distance, but I could see him watching us. I gestured for him to come closer, and when he did, I put an arm around my brother, giving him a sisterly hug. I met Mama’s eyes. “It’s one of my most treasured possessions now. And so is he. And so are you. I hope that…that after everything that’s happened, now that Phillip and I are married and we’re all safe and sound, that we can put everything behind us and move forward as a family.” Another lump welled up in my throat. “Family, both blood and chosen. That’s what I’ve always wanted. I really hope we can do that.”
Mama looked at Nikolai. He was staring down at the ground, and to my surprise, she reached out and gave him a motherly touch on the arm, making him look up in surprise. “Yes. Of course we can do that. I’d like nothing better.” Nikolai smiled.
“Now let’s cut that cake before Roberta passes out from starvation,” Phillip cut in, and I laughed, bringing the knife forward. It glided into the shiny ganache like butter, and I cut a triangular chunk, bigger than it needed to be, taking a moment to lick frosting from my fingers as I held the slice up to Phillip.
His eyes were wide. “That’s way too big. I can’t eat all that.”
“It’s for us to share, lover,” I said with a giggle, licking more frosting from my hand. “Go for it.”
He gave me a saucy look and leaned in. He knew what I was going to do; bless him for being a good sport. He opened his mouth to take a bite, and I smashed the cake with all my might into his face.
Frosting fell with a plop from his chin, and he gave me a look of mock anger, his lips covered in raspberry filling, dark chocolate streaks on his chin. “You bitch.” His frosting-smeared mouth turned up into a grin as he reached for the knife. Still licking cake off his lips, he cut an even bigger sliver.
“Save some for the rest of us,” Roberta whined, and everybody laughed.
“Thank god I’m not wearing white,” I said, and Lee snorted behind me. I shot him a look.
Phillip didn’t even give me a chance to pretend to take a bite. The moment the cake was cut, he shot his arm forward and smeared it into my face, taking special care to rub it in. His index finger found its way into my mouth, and I sucked the frosting off it. His eyes widened, then he grinned and wiped a little ganache off my chin and popped the same finger in his own mouth, giving me a sultry look.
“You guys are so disgusting,” Roberta said happily, grabbing the knife from me and cutting the bottom tier into smaller pieces. “But I love you both so much.”
“We love you too,” Phillip said, pulling me close and pressing his lips to mine. Our faces were smeared with cake and frosting, but neither of us cared. His lips tasted sweet, like raspberries and vanilla and dark chocolate and everything good in the world. His arms encircled my waist, and he picked me up off the ground, our lips never leaving each other as he held me there. I felt like I was flying, and I never wanted to come down. I opened my eyes and smiled at him as he beamed back at me.
Roberta took a bite of her own slice and closed her eyes in pleasure. “This is delicious, if I do say so myself,” she said in a dreamy voice.
I was surprised as Jamie sidled up to her and put his arm around her waist. “Let me taste, darlin’,” he said, and before any of us knew what had happened, he pulled her face to his and kissed her. Roberta’s arms went around his neck as she kissed him back, and a cheer went through the group. I beamed at Phillip. Roberta had been carrying a torch for Jamie forever. It appeared the feeling was mutual.
For a moment, I just stood there, leaning on Phillip’s arm and watching everyone. I felt so happy, just genuinely happy. Everyone I loved, right here with me, celebrating my wedding to the love of my life, the man I’d been besotted with since I was a teenager. Everything was perfect. I had everything I ever wanted. Nothing—nothing at all in the world—could bring me down on this day.
“Any cake left for me?” a voice said from behind me.
I went cold in Phillip’s arms, my limbs going completely stiff. He instinctively grabbed onto my shoulder, holding me back. I knew that voice. I knew it well. “Let me go,” I whispered in Phillip’s ear, and he let go of my arm immediately, dutifully handing me a napkin, his eyes blazing. I wiped the cake from my face and turned around, full of dread.
Sloan stood there, regarding me with a bemused expression.
“You make a beautiful bride, Stormy,” she said. “But you have some cake on your nose.”
I wiped at my face some more, momentarily speechless, and Phillip thundered, “What the hell are you doing here, Sloan?”
“I came to congratulate Stormy,” she answered with a smile, looking only at me. “I wouldn’t have missed your wedding for the world. You’re my best friend.”
“You did miss the wedding,” I said, wadding the napkin up, my fingers clenching around it. “Everybody did, by design. And you weren’t invited to the reception, last I checked.” And you’re not my best friend, I thought. You never were.
“You made a beautiful bride,” Sloan said again, ignoring me. “I saw you walking into the courthouse. I knew you’d wear something vintage. It really looked amazing; and whoever did your makeup, well, bravo. I couldn’t have done better myself.” She grinned. “I mean, I could have probably, but they managed quite well.”
“Yes, well, thanks very much and all,” I said, reaching for my abandoned can of hard seltzer on the table, suddenly very much in need of a drink. “But this is a closed party, for family and close friends only, so…” Sloan was definitely not either, not anymore. I found that the thought no longer caused me pain. Perhaps I’d lost too much by this point, or maybe I was ready to finally move on. “Especially considering you tried to poison my fucking friend Beth with your shitty makeup.”
Sloan didn’t have the decency to flinch or blanch or show any sign of regret or guilt. She just shrugged. “It was meant for you. I didn’t know she was going to put it on. Who does that?”
“Who poisons makeup like a fucking weirdo?” I countered.
“Don’t you remember me talking about Aqua Tofana?” she asked, and I rolled my eyes. “The techniques she used in Sicily centuries ago are pretty interesting; the stuff she was able to do with just a few plants and herbs. You can straight up kill a person with the right combination! Just a drop and they’re dead as a doornail.”
“You were trying to kill me by fangirling over some shit you heard about on a podcast?” I asked incredulously, and she finally did flinch. Evidently, that was enough to offend her, an irony that wasn’t lost on me.
“It wasn’t on a podcast,” she said petulantly. “I’ve been doing a lot of studying. Makeup and hair have always been my thing, or didn’t you notice? Always too busy thinking of yourself.” She smirked. “And anyway, I wasn’t going to actually kill you. I just wanted to…teach you a lesson, I guess. Put a damper on your big day.”
“Why?”
“Why not?” Sloan shrugged. “After all you’ve put me through lately, do you really think you deserve your big HEA?”
I swallowed. Phillip’s strong arm was a welcome presence around my shoulders. “Why don’t you just get out of here, Sloan. You’ve made your point.”
“Fine, I’ll go. I don’t want to cause any trouble; I only wanted to congratulate you both.” Were Sloan’s eyes actually a little misty or was it just a trick of the dim light? “I’ve missed you, and I feel like…I just wish we could fix things. I wonder if we could try to, one day.”
I stared at her. What the hell. “You literally just said you were going to poison me to teach me a lesson and put a damper on my big day…that I don’t deserve a happy ending. And in the same breath, you say you want to congratulate me and fix things? Are you high?”
Her smile was equal parts sad and triumphant as she stared back at me. “What can I say—I contain multitudes.”
“So you are high.” I rubbed at my head, exhausted.
She moved to go, turning back toward the bonfire as though she meant to say goodbye to everyone and realized that nobody here was her friend. Her face really was a little sad.
My pity for her was short-lived because Sloan turned around once more, a sly little smile on her face, reared her head back, and spit right on my beautiful chocolate cake.
Rage blew up inside me. I moved toward Sloan, but before I had a chance to act, Roberta stepped forward, threw back her arm, and clocked her right in the face. Sloan stumbled and fell backward, breaking her fall with an elbow.
“Jesus!”
“Consider that your wedding present, guys,” Roberta said to me with a tight-lipped smile, and walked back over to the table, where she picked up her paper plate and resumed eating cake. Just behind her left shoulder, Jamie stood with wide eyes, amazement and lust plain on his handsome face.