Chapter 51
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
When was the last time I was nervous? Not scared, nervous, like anxious-nervous, as if I’m about to take a big test that I’ve been studying for and need to get a perfect score.
The once-common anxious feeling is foreign these days, and it’s almost funny as I realize it’s twisting around my gut right now.
I’m nervous.
I’m also really excited.
The last three months have been a blur. I’m being extremely generous with Jett’s year-end bonus, but the man has earned it.
Tinsley has been touring extensively with her Freedom Tour, combined with making up the tour dates from the multiple cancelled shows when she was recovering from everything, both physically and emotionally.
I know she was hesitant to have Max do a full press push on the tour, unsure if she would be able to perform like she historically has, but I never doubted my girl.
She was focused, dialed in, and for the first time in her career—this tour was hers.
She got to have the final say in everything and anything she wanted.
If there was something she didn’t care about, Allie made sure it wasn’t on her radar, but when it came to things she wanted input on like outfits and backdrops, band members and tour personnel, opening acts and city selections, she had the loudest and final vote.
It was a magnificent sight to witness. She was always a force, but to see her step into her power and realize the amount of power she truly has?
I didn’t think I could be prouder of her, and she continuously knocked me on my ass with impressing me left and right.
It was amazing—and I was her loudest cheerleader—even louder than Wells.
Jett has been a miracle worker in making my schedule work around Tinsley’s, and so far, I have made every show but one.
Tinsley never asked me to be at every show, but I want to be at every single one that I could be.
For the one show in mid-October that I couldn’t attend, I flew as many members of The Book Club that could make it out as a surprise and had them in a suite.
Before she went on stage, Allie told her which suite to look to, and sure enough, my sisters, along with Stacy, Lauren, Willa, Harlow, Dahlia, and Cara were all there, pumping their hands over their heads in the now standard move we all do to cheer on our girl.
It’s ridiculous and it’s awesome. Allie called me on FaceTime so I watched my girl freak out, and then she saw me on the phone and blew me a kiss before starting her show.
We show up for each other, even when we can’t be there physically.
She somehow knows when I need little reminders too.
Just the other week, I was dealing with the fallout of another musician making terrible decisions in their personal life and the implosion of their career.
I was beyond annoyed with moronic behavior and I was in a foul mood, until Jett knocked on my office door, delivering a tray of chocolate chip cookies from Sprinkles with a note, “Something to sweeten your day. You’ve got this and I’ve got you.
Love you. Xoxo Red.” She was on a plane over the Atlantic but still managed to get the closest thing to a smile that I had on my face all day.
Those cookies were what made me realize I was done waiting; I’m not even sure what I was waiting for. There may have been a part of me that was waiting for the trial to be behind me, but if I let that case dictate our lives in any way whatsoever, then Rick still has control.
Fuck. That.
That evening, I took Wells out to dinner, and like a true gentleman, asked for his blessing.
He’s the only person in her life that had any right to give it anyway.
It wasn’t permission; it was a blessing and a gesture of respect for his role as her big brother—and I know that while Tinsley wouldn’t require it, she would love that I did it.
“This is the worst surprise of all time,” he deadpans as he tries to glare at me.
I nod slowly. “Yeah, I know, but I think we’ve done enough waiting.”
“What if she wants to wait to have the wedding until after the tour is over?” Wells asks the question I knew he would—but what he’s really asking is what if Tinsley wants something that’s different from what I want.
“You know that what she wants is what she will get, especially with me and our lives together. I’d marry her tomorrow, but if she wants to wait, we’ll wait.
But we are not waiting to make it public knowledge.
” There are still some blogs and websites accusing Tinsley of cheating on Roman while they were allegedly dating—even though the guy has been proven to be a total douche canoe with everything that came out after his death.
“I’m not hiding her, she is not a shameful secret, Wells. ”
“I get that. But you know I have to say this…”
I gesture with my hand for him to continue.
“If you hurt her, I will end you. I’ve failed her too many times, and I will not allow any more pain to be inflicted on her.
She deserves joy and love, and nothing less, Jack.
” Wells still struggles with the guilt of not knowing the depth of how fucked Rick and Bridget were with Tinsley, and how much they both hurt her, in different ways, but both exceptionally painfully.
“If I hurt her, I’ll give you Liam’s number myself,” I vow.
“No need.” Wells wiggles his eyebrows. “I already have it.” I laugh at my friend, of course he has it, they’re friends too, but he knows what I’m trying to say.
“It’d be an honor to call you a brother, Jack.
You’ve been like family to me for decades at this point, and this just makes it official.
I know she’s in good hands, just keep her safe and keep her smiling, okay? ”
“I will spend the rest of my life making sure that’s all she knows, Wells. I promise. I love her, man.”
“Yeah, still weird. Does it ever not get weird to hear your friend say that about your baby sister?” He grimaces.
“Nope. And when we have babies, you can assume immaculate conception like I do with my sisters and their babies.”
His eyes bulge. “Babies?! Is she—” He whips his head around the restaurant and lowers his voice to a hushed whisper. “Did you fucking knock up my sister, you asshole?”
I laugh and shake my head. “No, man. Fiona was right. Tinsley has goals, and she wants to do this tour and do things her own way for a bit longer before she puts anyone else first. But when the day comes…”
“She’s going to be a great mom—which is going to be a miracle considering the shit show we had.”
I raise my whiskey in a toast. “To being better than we knew, choosing friends that become our family, and finding a love that makes all the bullshit worth it.”
Wells picks up his drink and clinks against mine. “Hear, hear. Welcome to the family, brother. Now, let’s talk carat size.”
She’s home for a break between tour dates and currently sleeping in—as she should.
In three months, she’s had over twenty-two shows, and her schedule doesn’t slow down in the new year.
I’m glad she listened to Max, Wells, and me when we insisted she take the week of Christmas and the first week of the new year off so we could celebrate the holidays and her birthday with our family.
Today, my girl turns thirty-three and I’m going to make sure it’s a birthday she never forgets.
I had a breakfast meal catered in, most of it prepared by a team of private chefs downstairs in the lofts with Allie and Cara’s assistance.
I’m sure Max, Wells, and even Thor were there, but they stayed out of the kitchen when those ladies told them to move it.
I didn’t want the noise or smells to wake her, so as Allie and Cara help me put the finishing touches, I take in the spread.
Tinsley loves brunch food and I went all out.
There’s French toast with topping options of fresh berries, homemade whipped cream, maple syrup I had brought in from her favorite place in Quebec, caramelized peaches, powdered sugar, and crumbled bacon.
Allie suggested three different options for egg soufflés, and my response was just yes—the same answer to every suggestion she or Cami had for today.
Dark roast French press coffee? Yes.
Iced espresso with a variety of options for flavored syrups and cream? Yes.
Eggs Benedict with homemade hollandaise sauce? Yes.
A yogurt parfait station with every possible topping that Cami could find on Pinterest? Yes.
A classic country breakfast casserole with hashbrowns, ham, eggs, and cheese? Yes, and make three more in different flavor combinations.
A juice bar with six options? Yes.
Eggs cooked to order with a private chef? Yes—but not until we call him to come up.
Because as much as my girl loves brunch—she loves her people more. So, while this set up is for her, it’s also for the infantry of loved ones that are all coming over in forty-five minutes, which means sleeping beauty needs to join her own party.
I make a simple tray with a few slices of the brioche French toast and basic toppings, an iced brown sugar oat milk shaken espresso—which Cami had to teach me how to make when I realized how happy it made Tinsley. I carry the tray into our bedroom and take a moment to take in the sight before me.