by T. I. Lowe
“Surprise,” he whispers and gives me a sideways hug.
Will bounces in Kyle’s lap with excitement. We’ve not seen my brother in almost six months. “Uncle Kyle, I missed you!”
“I missed you too, buddy.”
Before I can find my voice, the house lights go down. The crowd erupts in applause when the stage lights come up and reveals Bleu Streak minus the drummer, perched on top of stools with Dillon in the middle and mics before them. First thing I notice is he has cut his long locks off and is now sporting a short messy do that is wildly similar to his son’s new hairstyle. I’ve never seen him with short hair. It’s stunning. His face is completely opened now and his features are so well defined. His square jaw, with the normal bit of stubble, is such a gorgeous sight with no shield of hair. With no hair to hide those purple-blue eyes, it’s easy to see them sparkling under the stage lights. I don’t notice the other change until he starts working the chords of his guitar. I spot new ink on his wedding-ring finger, but I can’t make out what it is from here.
Without a word of welcome, the band launches into a mellow acoustic rendition of Creed’s “With Arms Wide Open.” Dillon parts those lips and the words just flow out, velvety. He only looks at Will and me for the entire song. I know this performance is just for us and no one else here tonight. This is one of the most beautifully written songs I have ever heard. The lyrics speak about lives changing in a mighty way, full of hope and joy. He sings about a man and woman creating life and how that life changes everything. The desire for a future and a man praying for a blessed life for his family. As I listen, I finally feel like I can breathe again. I don’t think I have since Dillon left almost three months ago.
As they reach the middle of the song, the other band members stop playing and Dillon takes over with the guitar break before he begins to sing so achingly sweet again. The man’s voice is absolutely brilliant, and I can’t control the emotions he summons out of me.
The crowd erupts as Dillon eases the song to a close. He gazes out over the audience as though it’s the first time he’s noticed they are here too. It takes forever for them to settle down enough so that Dillon can speak. The band waves and smiles, and then try to quiet the crowd by turning their attention to the band leader perched in the middle of them. I see the respect he has so graciously earned over the years as head of this extraordinary group. The feeling they emit is a united family, and I am a blessed woman to get another opportunity to be a part of it. I know the look Dillon is giving me. It’s the look of absolute love and adoration. And most importantly, forgiveness.
“Welcome to this private gig, tonight. Hope you don’t mind if we keep it keyed down. My son is in the audience, and I want him to still be able to hear when he walks out of here later.” The crowd laughs and I nudge Will’s leg. He is grinning ear to ear and his own little dimples are on display.
A stagehand takes Dillon’s guitar and hands him the ukulele I gave him. “This next song is new, and it’s for my son. It’s titled “My Will.” The single acoustic version drops tonight.” The crowd cheers at this.
He takes the ukulele in his long graceful hands and begins to strum the little instrument and the place fills with a jovial sound. Trace has maracas and begins to shake them to the rhythm Dillon is creating with the ukulele. Max and Logan join next with hushed guitar chords. It sounds like a celebration, and quickly becomes one when Dillon adds the sweet lyrics. Everybody claps along.
My Will…My Will…My Will
I am yours and you are mine
And everything else is gonna be just fine
My Will…My Will…My Will
I got you and you got me
We’re rooted together in this family tree
My Will…My Will…My Will
I got my Will
I’m well on my way`
Living this life
Day by day
My Will…My Will…My Will
You got me and I got you
Come on now
Our dreams are about to come true
Be my Will
Always my Will
Stay with me my Will
The cheery song repeats back through after a quicker beat bridge. It’s a lively song and I absolutely love it. Will does too. He’s bouncing up and down in Kyle’s lap and clapping along. It doesn’t get past my attention that my son is keeping the exact beat to the song.
After the song concludes, a stagehand reappears to retrieve the ukulele from Dillon. He grabs the mic and stands. “Tonight is a night of celebration and I got a lot to make up for.”
At this point a bodyguard escorts me and Will to the stage. The big guy sits Will in a movie director’s chair that has been placed beside Max. Max fists bumps with Will’s tiny one. Dillon walks over as he places the mic in his back pocket and gives Will a kiss, and then musses the little guy’s hair.
Then, Dillon grabs my hand and walks us to the center of the stage. All I want to do is kiss him. He must sense this or wants the same, because the next thing I know he has wrapped his arms around me and claims my lips in front of this packed house. “It’s about time you put that ring back on your finger, where it belongs,” he murmurs against my lips. He holds my hand in question and places a kiss on top of my wedding ring. The place erupts in whistles and more applause. I grab up his hand to inspect the ink. On the top of his finger is a cursive J. It’s so elegant, but I love it even more when Dillon flips his hand over and exposes a cursive W that connects to the J underneath. “It’s not so bad being by my side is it, pretty girl?”
“Not at all. It’s where I belong,” I admit.
“It’s about time you realize this. I love you and we’ll work things out. Promise.”
I’m crying again, so all I can do is nod my head in agreement. Dillon wipes my face gently, and then looks over his shoulder. A stool is brought out and Dillon gently sets me on it.
Dillon pulls the mic from his pocket, brings it to those full lips, and announces, “Ladies and dudes, this is my gorgeous wife, Jewels.” He points over to Will. “And that good looking guy is my son, Will.” More applause breaks out. Dillon squeezes my hand and waits for the crowd to settle back down. “Me and my pretty girl recently celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary.” The crowd erupts again with applause. They seem to be as overjoyed as I feel. He patiently waits for them to calm before continuing. “And that got me to thinking about the traditional wedding anniversary gifts.” He pauses and nods his head towards Will. “I already gave her the best gift I could ever give her on our wedding night.” He winks at me. “I gave her a son,” he says smugly, causing more whistles to erupt.
“The fifth anniversary gift is wood. We had ourselves a sweet boat when we were kids. It was a wood sports boat.” He cuts his eyes over to my brother in the audience. “But I blew that sucker up,” he says as he shrugs his shoulders. Kyle and Max are howling with laughter at the memory. “So I gave my lady a new boat.”
Tate walks out on stage and hands Dillon a thick leather journal. Dillon nods his head at him in thanks, and then hands it to me. “The fourth anniversary is leather. All the pages in this leather journal are blank, and I want us to write our future together in it.” This gorgeous poet is bringing me to tears in front of all of these strangers.
Dillon kisses an escaped tear away before he opens the journal to the back page and pulls out a paper that was tucked there. “The third anniversary is fruit.” As he hands me the paper, I’m racking my brains at what on earth he could possibly be giving me that is related to fruit. I nearly drop the paper in shock when I read it. “Me and this pretty girl danced the day away in a peach orchard not too long ago. It was one of the best moments in my life. Just me and my girl and all those peach trees. I want to be able to relive that moment any time I see fit, so I bought it for her.” My hand shakes as I stare in awe at the bill of sale for the orchard. How romantic can he get? Women in the audience are awing at his sentiment.
“The second anniversary
is cotton and the first is paper,” he states these two together as Tate carries out a very simple, yet very exquisite, wedding gown and hands me a marriage renewal certificate. “Let’s renew those vows we took before God so we can get to work on our ever after.”
I sniffle some and try to clear my throat. I shake my head no and Dillon looks at me concerned. “We’re gonna have to do it soon or I won’t be able to fit in that dress.”
“What was that?” he asks, but I know he heard me. Those dimples are on full display.
He eases the mic closer to my lips. He wants everyone to hear what I just announced. “I said we are gonna have to say those I do’s soon, or I won’t be able to fit into that beautiful gown.” Whistles and clapping erupts across the crowd.
A smirk crosses Dillon’s face as he puts the mic back to his lips, “Man, I’m good.” He growls playfully. He places the mic behind his back and leans towards my ear and whispers, “We created our own treasure in that shed.” He is grinning in such a way that is absolutely stunning. His eyes sparkle with unshed tears of joy and he is nearly glowing with pride.
I like that he thinks so much like me. I had already come to the same conclusion about our own treasure over a month ago when I found out I was pregnant. “Yes, Dimples. We did.”
Dillon drops the mic and kisses me like his very life depended on it. After we are both breathless, he pulls back and looks at me sternly. “No more goodbyes.”
“No more goodbyes,” I promise.
Epilogue
Wow. All I can say is wow!
Me and Dimples have stuck to our promise and have not said goodbye since that night on that stage six years ago. I smile as I think of that now. The crowd started chanting after a while for more songs, so eventually Dillon tore his lips from mine and Bleu Streak rocked that place out.
Dillon had moved us over to his hillside mansion after that concert. I finally got my autographed CD’s! I asked him later that night as he held me in his king-sized bed, why had it taken him well over two months to send for me and Will. I was worried he had second-guessed wanting to be with me during those silent months. He chuckled at my nervous question, making me want to pinch him.
“Buying a peach orchard was no easy feat. That ornery owner didn’t want to come off it. So I ended up paying a small fortune.” We both laughed at this. My husband was held up buying me gifts while I sat fretting that our marriage was over.
Every spring he whisks me away to our orchard and we spend the day dancing among the pink-flowered trees. And we picnic there quite often during the summer. There’s nothing better than hand-picking your sweet dessert right from the tree.
Kyle flew back with Will and I after the California concert so he could walk me down the aisle in my second wedding to Dillon Bleu. Will was the best man and Leona was my maid of honor, with Jen as my matron of honor. Trace played the piano, of course. Logan and Max were groomsmen. Mave flew in with Dillon and had asked just to be a guest. He was still pretty weak. I was glad that the guys agreed to move Mave to a facility back in Georgia. I felt he needed to be near us.
The ceremony was held in our small church, which was packed out with people standing outside to get a peek at the service. We had Momma May’s cater the reception that was set up on the lakeshore. We had a country feast of fried chicken and all the fixings. Max and Mave had an eating contest. You can only imagine how that went. Needless to say, we had no leftovers. Dillon had Tate order a fancy wedding cake from a gourmet cake shop in Atlanta. The owner personally drove the cake down and served it to our guests. The band set up on the dock and serenaded the crowd off and on throughout the night when Dillon wasn’t busy dancing with me. The other side of the lake was packed with spectators trying to get a glimpse of the rock stars through binoculars and high-powered cameras. How do I know this? Because our wedding and reception pictures were plastered all over the Internet the very next day. Dillon joked that we threw our money away on a private photographer when we could have gotten all we wanted for free online. Some were quite good, so we did swipe some for free.
The paparazzi bugged us to no end for the first year, but Dillon always pleasantly let them have the pics they wanted. He assured me it was pointless to fight against them. I guess we were too nice, and eventually too boring, because the numbers trickled down to only a rare few popping up occasionally.
A month after the wedding, Dillon pulled up in a custom black Cadillac Escalade. The sides are slashed with intricate blue and silver streaks and the windows are tinted super dark. The interior has black, buttery-soft leather and every electronic gadget you can imagine. It’s totally tricked out.
I questioned the purchase and he shrugged his shoulders and answered, “We need family wheels.”
I had nodded my head in understanding. “Family wheels, Dillon Bleu style.”
He produced those dimples and replied, “Of course.”
Dillon didn’t leave my side the entire pregnancy, saying he would not miss a moment of his baby growing in his bride’s body. He was fascinated with my ever-changing body and couldn’t keep his hands off me. And just let me tell you, the most precious vision I have ever witnessed was the day my husband held our baby girl in his arms for the first time and openly wept at the sight of her. Our Grace has her own hit song, “My Amazing Grace,” and at only age five is already set for college and life after because of it.
I have filled four leather journals so far with this treasure of a life with my family. I’ve been approached to turn them into a memoir for Bleu Streak. I hesitantly told the agent, maybe one day, but as for now the answer is no. I’m not ready to let those treasures be discovered yet. I want them all to myself.
The band is doing better than ever. They only commit to one performance a month so we can all tag along. Trace ran off with Jen last month and got married. They are still honeymooning in Jen’s small cabin at the moment. They are quite the lively couple, with both of them always having an abundance of energy. I’m surprised it took them this long to figure out they belonged together.
Oh, I almost forgot to tell you that Mr. Wayne and Ms. Raveena went all Dillon and Jillian style. Those two got secretly married a few years back. We put two and two together after catching them sneaking out of each other’s trailer several times before dawn. We threw them a surprise wedding reception and pretty much forced them to admit it. They are quite the cute couple.
Max, Mave, and Logan went in together and purchased a bachelor pad a few miles from here. It’s a lake house closer to our side than the rich side of the lake. So all of my family is close, except for Kyle. He makes more trips home now than what he used to, which makes me happy. His life isn’t here, but I’m glad he still visits often. I think it’s because Grace has him wrapped around her little finger.
The first row of new cabins has just been completed, and we gave Tate the one closest to the lake. He is working on his business degree through an online college, and Dillon is planning on bumping him up to the Bleu Streak management team after Tate graduates. So he is sticking around, too. I like that. He is a great help, and more importantly, a great friend.
A recording studio was constructed in record time behind our cabin. We also added a master suite to the bottom floor of our home. In interviews, a popular question they like to ask Dillon is, “You’re a rock star with millions in the bank. Why on earth do you live in a trailer park?”
He always shrugs his shoulder and looks at the interviewer as though the answer should already be so obvious. “Because it’s home,” he answers simply.
You still have to keep on your toes around this crowd. A few months into us getting settled in, Max made the mistake of wanting to spend the weekend with us before they had their place ready. Max was bragging on and on about staying up days upon days at a time during the tours. He was stretching the truth quite a bit, so Dillon challenged him to see just how long Max could actually go straight without any sleep and promised to pay him a thousand dollars if he could stay awake until
the sun came up the third morning. Never one to back down from a challenge, no matter how stupid it is, Max said he would kick butt. The guys took turns staying up with him, and Max actually made it a little over forty-eight hours before passing out. Now maybe this sounds like a pretty lame challenge, but Dimples had an ulterior motive. Max woke up the next morning, stumbled into the kitchen, and just about scared me to death. I thought a stranger was robbing me or something. I had to take a second good look and found it to be a very bald Max.
He ran his hand over his slick scalp and declared, “Dillon is going down for this.”
When he turned to walk back out, I was barely able to restrain myself. Written on the back of his bald head in permanent marker was, Dillon was here. No one, not even Will, told Max about it either. So the poor idiot walked around for a week oblivious. People would asked, “So, you close to Dillon?” or “You and Dillon tight?” And the poor guy would carry on and tell them, “Yes, Dillon is my man.” Or he would declare, “Dude always has my back.” It was hilarious. The boys had a field day with Max until the ink eventually wore off.
Mave came home a few weeks after that and set out to cutting his own hair off when he took in Dillon and Max’s transformations. Logan followed suit too and trimmed his afro way down. So Trace felt left out, of course. He cut all of his fluffy blond hair off, too. I always liked their long hair, but just let me tell you those dudes got even more handsome once you could actually see their faces.
The only new ink Dillon has is when his tattoo artist entwined a cursive G into his ring finger tattoo. He’s such a sentimental old soul. I fall in love with him more each day. Really. How could I not?
