CHAPTER 86 (1)

The Wedding Day



I wake before dawn. Timothy's still wrapped around me, and for the first time since we arrived, I'm awake and he's still here. It takes until I shift off the chaise to notice the pain in my ankle has gone down. I carefully put weight on it, pleased that it can bear almost all of me, and go to get dressed. Excitement shivers through me as I leave the villa, pulling the door quietly shut, and head to the beach behind our villa, needing a moment to myself. The sunrise turns the sky soft pinks and golds. It's early, and today is my wedding day. The anticipation has my lungs nearly bursting. I can't believe it's here. A man in black is walking barefoot down the beach, but otherwise it's deserted. A spike of pain shoots up my foot-not my ankle, I realize when I curse and drop to my knee. Just a shell in the sand, scratching enough to leave a tiny white line on the side of my big toe, next to my pedicure. "You're up early," a rough, masculine voice says. Harrison King is standing over me, wearing black shorts and nothing else save a faint sheen of sweat as if he's been out for a run. The casual dress contrasts with his perfect cropped hair. His bone structure looks as if it could cut more than the shell I stepped on. "So are you." He holds out a hand, and I take it, rising gingerly. Whatever he does for fitness, he does it with admirable dedication. You don't get in that kind of shape without rigor. My gaze drops to an outline across his pec-not a tattoo, but a scar. He clears his throat, and I force my attention up. "I heard about your adventures last night," he says. "Admittedly, I'm surprised Timothy pulled out of the acquisition. The man has resolve." I start along the beach, the sand spreading my toes, and he falls into step next to me. "I'm sorry he lost the deal, but I'm relieved there will be no more lawyers on our wedding or honeymoon." "Deals aren't made by lawyers. They're made by humans. Good ones. Bad ones. Every kind in between." "What kind are you?" I hear myself ask. I'm thinking about Rica and the fact I didn't tell her who Harrison was at the first opportunity. Harrison turns to face me, the breeze blowing his shorts. The corners of his eyes crinkle, making their blue depths more piercing. "Haven't you read a tabloid? I'm the rich, self-indulgent, fucked-up kind." Before I can decipher the emotion on his face, he turns and starts back down the beach. "You're probably wondering why I called you here," I say when everyone's gathered around a long table at breakfast. "You want to make sure no one's late today," Jacob jokes, and Andie shoves him. Dad, Haley, Sophia, and Mason are at the end. Jacob's got a shoulder slung over the back of his chair, Rica and Andie on either side of him. Avery's chewing on a piece of pineapple. Harrison's next to Timothy near my end of the table. Even Frank and the other two Wicked artists are here, which is the point. Timothy shifts out of his chair and crosses to me, his dark brows pulled together. "Six, what's going on?" "I have an idea. Trust me." He nods before taking his seat again. I clear my throat. "We're here together. We're in all of this together. We don't know what will happen with Wicked. But the least we can do is give these artists a chance to do what they do best." I round the table, stopping in front of them. "Timothy and my dad invited you here because they wanted to convince you they were the best people to take over Wicked. They wanted you to invite them in, but we haven't invited you in, not really. I want to ask if you guys would play at the wedding today." They exchange a look, but it's Frank 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 Frank. "This might be moot at this point because Timothy 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. Timothy and my dad aren't perfect, but they look out for artists in a way executives like Zeke never will." Frank 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?" Jacob shoots up in his chair. "Wait. You're going to let me film something?" "Thanks for taking care of this," I say carefully to Rica as I step into the dress at her and Andie'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." Rica 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. "Timothy'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!" Andie demands, descending on us with glasses of wine. Everyone is dressed in white except for me, and I love it. Andie's dress is a flowy halter style. Avery'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 Sophia's in pink. My stepmom pulls up just inside the doorway, her hand pressed to her stomach as her eyes fill.