“I’m wearing you out?” She kicked his boots off the railing, and he jumped up and pulled her out of her chair.
“Someone is feeling much better these days.”
“Someone is. Now grab your purse, we need to go shoppin’.”
“Shopping?” She glanced at the bed in the room just beyond the porch, hoping to exercise her sex drive.
“Yup. We need some boots, and a hat. Two hats, one for here and another one all blinged out so I can take you dancin’ tonight.”
“You’re finally gonna dress me for the part?”
He lifted her hands and kissed the backs of both of them. He paused over her ring finger and gave it a hard stare. “Darlin’, when I get done dressing you, there won’t be a soul on this earth that doesn’t know you belong to me.”
Epilogue
Three Months Later
“You know, as First Wives Club meetings go, this one has to be the best.” Avery lifted her glass of champagne for a toast. “To Lori, with her newly engaged badass self.”
Lori beamed while looking at the ring Reed had finally put on her finger a month before. Wedding plans were in the works, which gave the four of them plenty of time together while they hammered out all the details.
Trina sipped the sparkling wine in celebration before scooting out of the way of one of the stagehands.
The four of them sat in the wings of the concert hall, waiting until the very last second to walk down to their front row center seats.
Since she’d met Wade, this was the first concert she’d attended. Everything inside of her buzzed with excitement. The guys in the band had welcomed her into their fold with warm hearts and big hugs. They liked how she made Wade smile, and the music he was working on was a windfall for all of them. At least that’s what the band had told her.
The roadies were finishing changing the set from the warm-up band as Wade and his guys walked through the backstage crowd.
Wade let out a whistling catcall and snagged Trina around the waist. “I’m taking this one, boys,” he teased his guys.
“It’s the hat, isn’t it?” Pure cowgirl and picked out by her own country stylist. Even Wade’s mother liked it, and that woman never approved of anything dealing with Trina.
“You can have her. I personally prefer blondes.” Luke winked at Avery.
Avery waved him off with a turn of her head. “Oh, hell no. I’m out. See ya down there,” she called as she walked away.
“Dude, she just dissed you hard,” Sebastian teased Luke.
“Don’t take it personally, Avery doesn’t like musicians.”
“Except me, she loves me.” Wade patted his own chest.
“Don’t flatter yourself. She tolerates you.”
Wade swept Trina up for a kiss. “What about you?”
“Oh, I love you, but I only tolerate so much.” She slapped his butt.
“Break a leg . . . or whatever one says before a concert,” Shannon said before following Avery’s lead.
Wade winked.
Lori patted Wade’s shoulder. “Reed said he’d see you from the floor and after the show.”
Wade kissed her cheek. “Enjoy.”
Lori walked off.
He ducked his head close to Trina’s. “I’m a little nervous,” he admitted.
“Because of me?”
“What if you don’t like it?”
Trina busted out laughing. “Not possible. Besides, I’ve been listening to you sing to me for months.”
“Still.”
“You know what they say. For stage fright, just picture the audience naked.”
His eyes traveled up and down her denim miniskirted frame. “That is not helping.”
She lifted on her tiptoes, as much as she could in a pair of boots, anyway, and kissed him. “I could say that if it bothers you, I’ll stay away from your concerts. But that would be a total lie. So deal with it.” She kissed him again. “I love you. Sing your heart out.”
“Ready, Wade?” one of the stage managers interrupted them.
Trina slipped out of his arms and blew him a kiss before she jogged out of the wings and down the back staircase to the concert floor. She smiled at the security guard stationed there and slipped through plenty of strangers before meeting her group.
Trina turned a full circle and took in the sheer mass of people. “Phenomenal, isn’t it?”
“All here to see your guy,” Avery said.
Reed walked up, double fisted with a beer in each hand. “Hey, ladies.”
A round of hellos went up as the lights in the concert hall went down.
The crowd started to rumble, and when the strings of an electric guitar hit a chord, everyone went wild.
Through the fancy lights and the smoke, Wade walked onstage and hit the first riff of his opening song.
And Trina fell in love all over again.
God, he was good. He sang of good times with old friends, and everyone around her sang right along with him.
Wade found her spot and smiled at her as he performed. She wasn’t sure if he was picturing her naked, but he didn’t seem all that nervous once the song ended.
“Hello, Nashville!”
The crowd went wild.
“How y’all doin’ tonight?”
The audience responded.
“It’s been three months since I’ve been onstage, I was goin’ through withdrawals. Thanks for joining me on this last-minute gig.”
“Anytime!” a man standing behind Trina yelled.
“Tonight’s a mighty special night for me. You see, I have someone special in the audience, watching me for the first time.”
Avery bumped Trina’s side.
Trina squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, Wade was smiling down at her. “In fact, I wonder if y’all wouldn’t mind if I brought her up onstage for just a couple minutes so I can introduce you to her.”
Trina started shaking her head. “Oh, God. He is not . . .”
Next thing she knew, Jeb was standing in front of her with a step stool she could use.
Wade reached out his hand. “C’mon, darlin’.”
“I’m going to kill him.”
Trina’s entire body shook as she let Jeb help her to the first step, and Wade pulled her up the rest of the way.
She couldn’t look up for fear of passing out.
“Trina, honey . . .” Wade lifted his hand to the audience. “This is everyone . . . everyone, this is the love of my life, Trina.”
A rise and fall of her name rose in the room.
That was when she realized just how many eyes were on them.
She swallowed, hard. “Hi.”
Wade leaned in and talked low into his microphone. “Just picture them all naked. Totally works.”
Everyone laughed.
Her knees felt weak. “It’s okay, darlin’.” Wade waved toward the wings. “Let me get you a chair.”
Next thing she knew, there was a chair under her, and someone pushed her to sit. All she really wanted to do was get off the stage. While she was politely smiling, she was thinking of all the ways she’d get back at him for this little stunt. She glanced at her friends on the floor, who stood there with cell phones pointing in her direction.
“Wade,” she said through clenched teeth.
He lifted a hand in the air. “Just a minute. I have something I need to do here . . . boys?”
The sound of the bass and lead guitar hit a pleasant note. At first Trina thought Wade was going to sing to her onstage.
Then he dropped to one knee.
All of the nerves and anxiety about a zillion eyeballs on her disappeared.
Wade pulled out a box from his back pocket.
Trina stopped breathing.
The arena was a mix of silent rustling and muttering between people. But Trina didn’t hear any of it. She only saw Wade and the mist in his eyes.
“Darlin’, I started falling in love with you that first night, when you leaned over and said
, Wade Thomas who? I’ve been fallin’ hard ever since. I had no idea what I was missing in my life until you walked in it. You know how much I love you.”
Trina started to cry. I love you, she mouthed.
Wade opened the box. “I would be deeply honored if you would wear my ring and let me call you Mrs. Wade Thomas. Trina, my love. Will you marry me?”
She was nodding before he finished the question. She threw herself into his arms and met his kiss.
Someone cut his mic. “I love you,” he said just for her.
He kissed her again, stood back, and slipped a ring on her finger. It was big, and blingy, and if size was an indicator of love, there was no doubt of Wade’s for her. “I love you,” she said out loud.
Wade lifted her off her feet and spun her around.
The audience went crazy.
His microphone was turned back on as he handed her off to Jeb.
“Now get off my stage, woman. I have to pay for that ring,” he teased.
Again, the crowd laughed.
Trina was surrounded by her friends, and Jeb had acquired two more bulky guards to stand by.
Wade stood there for a second before turning to his band. “Hot damn, I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
And then he sang.
And it was Trina who felt like the luckiest person alive.
She lifted her phone to take a picture of her fiancé and saw a text image.
When she opened it, it was a picture taken only seconds before, from several rows back.
It was from Sasha.
Congratulations.
Instead of turning around to find her, Trina sent her reply. Thank you.
She had more than one guardian angel looking over her shoulder. Two had halos and one wore spandex.
Acknowledgments
It’s that time again, time for me to pause and think of all the people who helped me reach the words The End in this book.
As always, Jane Dystel, you never struggle for the right words needed for encouragement. Thank you and your entire team for helping me reach my dreams.
Thanks to everyone at Montlake for seeing the big picture and giving me the creative elbow room I need to write the best book in me each and every time.
Thank you, Maria, for taking me on and making the transition of staffing changes seamless.
Kelli, my steadfast editor . . . you know how much I love you. Thank you for helping me make my books rock.
Now back to Ellen Steinberg . . .
I’m writing this dedication and acknowledgment as I sit in my new home overlooking the Pacific Ocean off the coast of San Diego. I was looking for a real estate agent and somehow gained a friend. Thank you for your patience in finding the perfect home for me to write the next few chapters of my life. I look forward to sharing lots of sunsets and bottles of bubbly on my deck. Thanks for all the coaching in those pesky Russian words that shouldn’t be repeated in polite company.
You’re an unexpected blessing in my life, Ellen.
Here’s to many years of friendship.
Cheers,
Catherine
About the Author
Photo © 2015 Julianne Gentry
New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author Catherine Bybee has written twenty-eight books that have collectively sold more than 4.5 million copies and have been translated into more than a dozen languages. Raised in Washington State, Bybee moved to Southern California in the hope of becoming a movie star. After growing bored with waiting tables, she returned to school and became a registered nurse, spending most of her career in urban emergency rooms. She now writes full-time and has penned the Not Quite series, the Weekday Brides series, the Most Likely To series, and the First Wives series.
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