A Love Song for Always

by Piper Lawson

  They exchange a look, but it’s Finn who speaks.

  “All this for a free wedding band?” he drawls.

  Flash, the woman, clears her throat. “I think it’s a great idea. It’s been stressful as hell not knowing what will happen with the label.”

  I cross to Finn. “This might be moot at this point because Tyler and my dad let the deal lapse. Because ownership thinks they can get another offer, which they probably won’t.”

  “A company is only as good as its people. Even if you want to go it alone and look out for yourself, there will come a day you need someone to have your back. Tyler and my dad aren’t perfect, but they look out for artists in a way executives like Zeke never will.”

  Finn frowns, looking past my shoulder.

  “What if it’s not about the lawyers and the fine print?” I turn back to the table. “What if we record it and stream it so the other Wicked artists see it too?”

  Beck shoots up in his chair. “Wait. You’re going to let me film something?”

  “Thanks for taking care of this,” I say carefully to Rae as I step into the dress at her and Elle’s villa.

  “It’s just a dress.” Her voice is flat, but she inspects it critically, her gaze lingering on every inch of fabric before she tugs gently at the hem to even it.

  I turn to face her so when she straightens she can’t avoid my gaze. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Harrison.”

  Rae looks gorgeous in a white, sleeveless linen dress that gathers above each shoulder, diving low on her chest. It skims smoothly over her hips and falls to the floor in a soft drape that makes her look younger. The bruises are gone from her wrists, but I still remember them.

  “You don’t want me to ruin the wedding by bringing it up.” She exhales, head swiveling as her gaze searches the room, unseeing.

  “Tyler’s been wanting to see this guy forever. I thought if I could get him here, everything would be great. But of course, life doesn’t work that way. It’s not perfect, and I get that. So, if you want to go over there and tell him right now, you have my support. Whatever you need from me, I’m here for you.”

  Her lips purse. “I will confront him about it.”

  I touch her arm. “Good. I have your back. I swear.”

  Before she can answer, we’re interrupted.

  “Stop being serious!” Elle demands, descending on us with glasses of wine.

  Everyone is dressed in white except for me, and I love it. Elle’s dress is a flowy halter style. Pen’s is sleeveless with a bandeau top that shows off her shoulders.

  “Knock knock,” Haley calls from the door before entering. She’s wearing white too, and Sophie’s in pink. My stepmom pulls up just inside the doorway, her hand pressed to her stomach as her eyes fill. “Annie. Oh my God.”

  Haley’s reaction—especially given how rational she typically is—makes my throat tighten.

  “It’s good?” I ask, holding out the skirt and turning in the mirror.

  “It’s stunning. You’re stunning.”

  Rae, Elle, and Pen duck out with an excuse about checking on flowers.

  I turn back to the mirror, angling my head to see that my hair’s still all in place. It’s half pinned up and half down, the top portion secured with white jeweled pins that glint in the light.

  Together with the dress, it feels like a recognition of the past and a promise of the future. The rich color sends emotion swirling through me every time I see it, every time I touch the silky fabric.

  Haley stops behind me, her eyes shining in the mirror. “I still remember the first time I met you backstage at one of your dad’s shows. I’d wanted to see you for what felt like forever even though it was only a few weeks.”

  My lips curve. “Really?”

  She nods. “You were the most important thing to him. You still are. There’s a piece of his heart nothing else can touch.” Haley cuts a look over her shoulder at Sophie, who’s playing with a tiny toy truck. “I can’t wait for you guys to have kids.”

  I laugh. “Me either.”

  Her eyes widen, and I bite my cheek.

  “We’re not trying. But we’re not not trying.” After last night, we decided. “Once Tyler’s back from tour, he’s not going anywhere for a while. And I’ll be wrapping up my show. We can stay in New York or move to LA… wherever we want to be.”

  “That’s wonderful. If you ever need a place to stay—”

  “With a convenient recording studio and a pool?” I quip, and she smiles. “I know we will. It feels like home for me, and I know it does for Tyler too.”

  Her eyes fill again, and she swipes at them before she heads to keep a closer eye on Sophie.

  I reach for my phone to turn it off. It’s filling with congratulations and well-wishes.

  I smile as I tuck the phone away and reach for my shoes. I step into them, grateful they’re wedges. My ankle still twinges a little but nothing like last night. The doctor was right about that bruise, but I can live with a live bit of pain from the straps pressing in. And the dress will keep the mark out of the pictures.

  With one last look in the mirror, I suck in a breath.

  I look good. But more than that, I feel good.

  I’m going to meet my husband, whom I couldn’t love anymore.

  There are things unsettled—like the Wicked deal and whatever’s between Rae and Harrison. Still, I can set those aside for the moment and focus on the beauty of this instant.

  Except…

  I frown, scanning the room as I press my hand to my chest above the dress.

  “Looking for something?”

  My dad’s voice has me looking toward the doorway. Relief floods me—both at his form and the chain he holds up.

  I race to him. “My necklace!” The chain is new and the glass is repaired so cleanly it’s almost impossible to see where it was cracked.

  “Tyler fixed it. Don’t ask me how.”

  Dad’s gruff voice telling me the man I love saved the necklace he gave me the first summer we were together, back when everything was beautiful and angst-filled and chaotic, has my chest aching.

  “Thanks.” I throw my arms around Dad’s neck. When I pull back, I realize he’s wearing a linen suit. “Wow. You look like you’re going to bet on a polo match or something.”

  “Hell no. I’m not going anywhere. Not today. Not for all the money in the damn world.” His face goes slack, his eyes sad.

  “What’s wrong?”

  The biggest rock star of all of them shakes his head slowly, surveying me from my half-pinned hair to my wedge-clad toes under the dress. “Nothing.”

  My stomach rises into my throat at the emotion in my dad’s voice. He’s quick to anger, quick to fight, quick to defend.

  This version of him is new and disconcerting.

  “All I wanted was for you to grow up better than I did. And I might’ve failed you in that.”

  I shake my head. “You didn’t—”

  He cuts me off. “I don’t know if I did or didn’t. But looking at you, seeing the woman you’ve become… I want to take credit for it, but I can’t. It’s all you. I couldn’t be prouder, and I have no damn right to take credit for you.”

  My smile wavers as I touch his shoulders, peering up into his stunned face. “You should take some credit. I wanted you to be proud, always. And I knew you loved me. Even when things were hard between us, when I was angry with you or trying to ignore you or wishing you were different, I knew deep down that you did. That’s what made it harder.”

  “I had a rough patch a few months ago after you and Tyler came for the holidays,” he admits.

  “What? Why?” I reach for the necklace, and he holds it away, motioning at me to turn.

  I do, reluctantly facing the mirror. He loops the necklace around my throat, carefully letting the ring and pendant settle against my chest.

  “Because you didn’t need me anymore. You haven’t for a while. I think taking over Wicked was something I’ve wanted to
do for a long time, but your independence made it more pressing. I want to be needed, but no one needs you forever. I’d never say it to anyone else, but I like being needed, kid.” With shaking hands, he fastens the clasp behind my neck and lifts my hair away.

  Before he can step back, I grab his thick wrists. His surprised gaze finds mine in the mirror.

  “Maybe I don’t need you to make sure I eat dinner, like Mason, or tie my shoes, like Sophie,” I tease. “Maybe I don’t even need your advice on how to play guitar or be a musician, like Tyler. But I need you in my life because you are an example of what is possible in this world. And I need that even in the moments I don’t ask for it. Especially when I don’t ask for it.”

  His eyes, the same shade as mine, are glassy.

  He wraps his arms around me, and I lean back against him. A sound from the door has us both looking up.

  Beck grins. “Sorry to interrupt this beautiful moment, but if you’re late two days in a row, Mr. J”—he nods at my dad—“my sixth sense says Haley’s going to murder someone.”

  “You’re not really psychic. You just play one on TV,” my dad gripes, but he steps back.

  “You’d be surprised how much it rubs off,” Beck says, then cuts a look at me. He looks a little sad. “You look great, Manatee. Ty’s a lucky guy.”

  I cross to him and stretch up to wrap my arms around him. “I’m a lucky woman. Not only because I have him, because I have the best friends in the world.” I pull back to stare him dead in the eyes. “We’re not going anywhere, Beck.”

  His eyes crinkle at the corners. “Come on, stop hitting on me on your wedding day.”

  I laugh as I pull back and take my dad’s arm.

  “You’ve played sold-out shows to fifty thousand. You sure you’re ready for this?” I ask him.

  “As close as I’m gonna get,” he replies solemnly.

  25

  The sun is a kiss on my shoulders from the moment I step outside. The breeze tugs at the pins in my hair, my dress.

  My friends and family are seated in three rows.

  Our officiant is serene up front.

  But my eyes are locked on the man next to the altar.

  Tyler.

  The boy I fell for is a man. One who fills out his tailored tuxedo to perfection, his tattooed hands flexing at his sides as he spots me.

  His expression transforms from anticipation to adoration and disbelief.

  Memories flood me.

  The first time I saw Tyler, the boy with the blue hair and enough talent to steal the world.

  Sharing jokes and bands over cheese fries.

  Messing around in the studio.

  Stumbling into the pool house only to have him pin me up against the wall, an angry, protective god.

  The way he went to the prom for me, but not with me. How he carried me to bed after, the way he kissed me as if I was the only thing he needed.

  Our first time in college after landing the showcase.

  The night he gave me the ring around my neck.

  The stage where he gave me the one that’s heavy, solid on my finger.

  Dad and I make our way up the sand path that’s strewn with purple rose petals. My heart is expanding so big I can’t feel anything but the tingling and stretching.

  I’m a balloon, ready to lift off.

  Dad’s arm is a support, my fingers digging in as the sand is loose beneath my feet.

  My love is tall and strong and handsome. Tyler’s face is solemn, filled with love and awe and so much devotion I could die.

  I spent my life wanting to be on a stage. This is the only one that matters. Here, with him.

  His attention, his caring, his support. It sustains me in a way I never expected.

  Muffled sounds have me cutting a look toward our family and friends.

  Haley’s watching, rapt, pushing Mason’s stroller back and forth with one hand as Sophie bounces in her seat.

  Pen’s grinning, as is Beck. Rae’s sitting straight in her chair, a reluctant smile on her face. Even Elle looks charmed for a woman who’d rather be at a funeral than a wedding.

  The Wicked artists are there too. Finn nods, one arm slung easily over the back of the chair next to him.

  Dad stops next to the altar, and I do too. I press a kiss to his cheek. He cuts a look at the man over my shoulder before opening his mouth to address Tyler.

  “I know,” my fiancé says.

  Dad nods and moves back to join Haley.

  When I turn back to Tyler, his attention sweeps me from the hem of my purple dress, to my body, to my flowers, to the necklace, to my face, lingering on my lips before coming to my eyes.

  “Nice dress,” he murmurs. His lips twitch in appreciation.

  “You said once that you wished you’d given me that night. Prom, I mean.” I think of our conversation back in college, the longing and the heartache and the regrets we carried then.

  “I don’t need prom. I’ve had every second since. All of our past, our present, our future.”

  My eyes burn, the warmth matching the warmth in my soul as the officiant clears her throat.

  She takes us through the simple ceremony we chose. Each word echoes in my ears, my mind, but it’s the man in front of me and the family around us—the ones we were born with and the ones we chose—who make this moment beautiful. Holy.

  Beck passes us the rings.

  “Tyler,” I murmur, “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love.” I finish the words we were instructed to say before going off book. “But really, you see it every day. Every time I look at you, every moment we spend together, it’s a testament to my love for you. We have many identities, some put onto us through blood or circumstance. I’ve struggled to figure out who I was, but one thing I’ve always been is yours.”

  I slide the ring onto his finger, and it settles against his knuckle. Nothing has felt so good.

  His jaw tics, those dark chocolate eyes filled with love and anticipation. As if he’s been waiting for this moment as long as I have.

  “Annie, I give you this ring.” His voice is clear and strong, underwritten by so much emotion. “Because giving you rings is what I do.” His mouth twitches, and the guests laugh too. “The first time I gave you a ring, I didn’t want you to forget me. But that’s not enough. You’re on this adventure, and all I want is for you to take me with you.”

  The swelling in my throat is so intense I can’t breathe, but I don’t need to. Especially when he slides the ring home, where it nests with the engagement ring.

  He takes my face in his hands, holding me not as if I’m precious, but as if I’m real and he wants to assure himself of that.

  “I love you,” he murmurs. “Always.”

  “Always.”

  26

  I don’t wait for permission to kiss her.

  Since the second she walked toward me in that dress, looking as if she’d stepped out of my own personal fantasy—not a sexual one, though I could make a million of those by fading out the crowd and taking her right here on the sand—but one that belongs to my heart.

  For a long time, I was too afraid to want those things because I knew I’d never get them.

  But I have.

  And I won’t ever forget how lucky I am for her. For us. I’ll never lose sight of what it means to not only have her in my life, but to share my life with her. The good and the bad, the triumphs and the failures, the choices and the uncertainties.

  We can’t know what will happen. If we’re lucky, we know who we want it to happen with.

  I span her waist with my hands, her ribs expanding under my touch as I bend my lips to hers. She’s open and eager when I press my tongue against the seam of her mouth.

  I dully register the cheer and applause going up from our guests.

  “Get a room,” someone shouts.

  I’ve been waiting a long fucking time for this.

  I’m not the kid I was when I stumbled into Wicked.

  I wanted to save tha
t place for the future kids like me, but I also wanted to save it for us. As a testament to our past.

  I don’t need to. Even if I’m not destined to have a place in its future, I have a place in hers.

  Her welcoming warmth, along with the feel of the ring heavy on my finger, is everything in this moment. Her hips are flush with mine, and I want her so fucking badly.

  Not because I can’t control myself.

  Because she’s my wife.

  I could grace a thousand stages, record a million songs, and none of it would compare to a smile, a breath, a night with her.

  Any man who thinks he loves a woman less once he’s married needs his head checked.

  “When’s dinner?” Beck hollers, and I finally pull back.

  “This isn’t over,” I murmur against Annie’s swollen lips.

  She arches a brow. “I hope not. It’s only the start.”

  I grin because it’s true.

  Later we’re gathered around a long table on the beach.

  Nearby, Finn and the others are set up with their instruments. Beck’s getting his own footage, zooming in on Finn singing.

  At a break, Finn crooks a finger at me, and I excuse myself from my wife long enough to head over.

  “Well, never thought I’d be playing your wedding,” he says.

  “You and me both.”

  He nods slowly. “I’m putting in a word for you. The other artists are too.” He holds up his phone, showing the page with the video Beck shot, the comments piling on it.

  “The terms of the deal already expired. It’s over.”

  Finn’s eyes gleam. “You’d be surprised.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re secretly a good guy.”

  “I’m not. But maybe I give a shit what happens at that company. Like you said, it’s in my best interests.”

  I suddenly realize what a big deal it was for him to fly halfway around the world on a day’s notice.

  “I don’t think that’s it. I think there’s something else you care about at that company.”

  Before Finn can answer, Jax comes over, a strange look on his face. “I got an email from Wicked.”