“Fuck expectations. They only set you up for disappointment. I’d rather believe in the possibility of chance then die wallowing in regret.” ~Johnny Outlaw
“You’re late,” Tracy says, our eyes meeting in the reflection of the mirror as she’s getting her makeup done.
I check my watch one last time. “Really? Two minutes. You’re holding two minutes against me?”
“What if I needed you two minutes ago?”
“You had me all morning and I was only gone an hour. I’m here for you now, beautiful bride. How may I be of service?” I set a bottle of champagne down on the vanity in front of her, along with three glasses.
“Okay, you’re forgiven. Pour the bubbly.”
The makeup artist laughs. “She’s been a nervous wreck.”
I pop the cork and pour the champagne. “You have nothing to be nervous about. You and Adam are made for each other. You’ve loved him forever. He’s loved you longer.”
A smile appears. She takes a sip, and says, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. To a lifetime of memories with the love of your life.”
The three of us toast in unison, “Cheers.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m nervously standing outside large wooden doors waiting for them to open. The guy holding my arm is single and good looking, but my heart’s still having trouble getting over Dalton to appreciate the opportunity.
Right before the doors open, Tracy says, “Wish me luck.”
I hug her tight and whisper, “You don’t need luck. You’ve got everything you need already.”
Smiling, she steps back and takes her father’s arm.
The doors open wide, and we start walking. I want to run, not digging the attention, but the best man, Alex, holds me back from bolting, keeping the right pace. The church is pretty with its stained glass windows catching the light and reflecting the colors into the sanctuary. Tracy surprised me by keeping the list under a hundred guests. It feels more intimate. I see plenty of familiar faces when looking around, but despite the myriad of smiles and big hats, only one person stands out in the crowd—Dalton.
My mouth drops open when my eyes meet his. My heart races as all the feelings I once had for him come rushing out from that secret place where hope was hidden deep inside. Tears fill my eyes, thinking I’d lost him forever. He’s here. My emotions get the best of me when I see his gentle smile. It’s the smile that reminds me of everything good we ever shared—it’s happy with the small eye crinkles I missed so much, and my breath hitches… Hitches! I thought that was reserved for romance movies and pirate novels until now. My mind starts reeling in disbelief and I close my eyes quickly hoping when I reopen them, he’s really here. When I do, I see him again, a quiet laugh shaking his shoulders. It makes no sense for him to be here, and yet, there he is.
The best man whispers, “Keep walking.”
I hadn’t noticed I’d stopped, but I did. Nodding, I mumble, “Yes, keep walking.” My feet move me forward, but my eyes don’t leave the deep greens I’ve fallen in love with, the man who stole my heart and who despite my best efforts to reclaim it, still wholly owns it.
Just before we pass his pew, a sly grin appears then he bites his lower lip. I look toward the waiting minister, suddenly feeling guilty for having naughty thoughts in church. I start to look around at the pretty flowers and wedding decor and smile at Tracy’s family sitting in the first row. But it’s pointless. There’s no way I’m going to get that lip bite out of my head. Impossible. Jack Dalton is impossible to forget and completely irresistible. So trying to be a little devious myself, I lower my chin to my right shoulder and steal a peek at the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.
He sits alone on the bride’s side, but doesn’t go unnoticed. A few cameras and some cell phones are aimed in his direction. Unlike his usual protective self, here he’s unguarded, paying no mind to them. I like seeing him relaxed even with the attention.
Taking the bride’s bouquet when I’m supposed to, I concentrate back on my friend and her special moment as they exchange vows. Adam grabs Tracy, dipping her down, and kissing her hard. Their love fills the room and encourages applause and catcalls. They run down the aisle hand in hand and Alex grabs mine to head down after them. I keep my eyes forward, struggling not to look in Dalton’s direction because if I do, I won’t be able to look away.
Cat and mouse… or maybe cat and cat. Not sure what we’re doing, but I enjoy the game, enjoying the chase with Dalton this time. At the reception, we move in circles, keeping our distance while keeping our eyes on the other. I decide to play a little longer, enjoying the anticipation of our reunion.
Time and perspective, becoming more aware of who I am, learning balance while in a relationship—these are the things I’ve had plenty of time to think about and discover. Dalton didn’t take over who I was. I gave myself willingly and got lost along the way. He fell in love with me, all of me, and never asked for anything other than trust in return.
For someone as famous as he is, he’s approachable here, taking photos with other guests, while being respectful of the bride and groom. Adam is mesmerized. Join the club.
After getting the bride a cocktail, we stand there looking at the party before us. “Do you hate me?” she asks.
“You’re hard to hate.”
She taps her glass against mine. “He called me by the way.”
I turn to look at her. She’s glowing and happy, a secret hidden in her smile. “Should I be worried?”
“No, everything is perfect.” She seems to be referencing the reception, but I know better.
Looking past the dance floor, I spot Dalton across the room, sitting at a table with a group of kids. They’re totally engrossed in some story that involves his arms going out like there’s a large explosion. The best part is he’s equally engrossed in the story, which makes me smile. “You should eat,” I suggest to Tracy. “Can I make you a plate of food?”
“I’m good. I’ve been snacking, but you go ahead.”
I walk to the buffet and get in line. It moves along slowly, but I’m not in a hurry. I start placing appetizers on my plate, mainly going for cheese and fruit. I’m reaching for the Swiss when I feel someone press against my arm, and say, “You look beautiful.” I freeze, my heart skipping a beat or five just from hearing his voice again. Like I missed him, I’ve missed his voice, and my shoulders drop as I exhale, all my willpower escaping me with that breath. Three words are all it took. Three words, and like my heart always knew, I am his again. That easy. What we share that powerful. Our hearts bonded even when our bodies weren’t.
When I dare to look into his eyes, Dalton’s expression is lighter than the last time we spoke, his mood playful. It’s a good look on him. He’s tanner, appears healthier. His smile is different, less damaged. It’s been four weeks and I should probably be offended and hurt we haven’t spoken, but it’s hard to stay mad at the man you love. Time heals and all that… With a gentle nudge to his ribs, I say, “Fancy seeing a rock star at my best friend’s wedding.”
I continue moving down the buffet line loading my plate.
“I’m more Jack than Johnny these days.” Dalton stays close to my side, but leaves a little distance I wish he wouldn’t.
“You look good, Jack.”
“Dalton,” he says with a little smile that feels special, like one only I can evoke. “You are only allowed to call me Dalton.”
“You look good, Dalton.”
His smile grows. “I spent a week in Hawaii.” He runs his hand through his hair then shoves it in his pocket.
“Any new tattoos?”
He looks down at his arm, his sleeves are rolled up, but not enough to show the hula girl. With a light chuckle, he says, “No. A few drunken nights… Okay, a lot of drunken nights, but no new tattoos.” He looks over as the music changes from fast to slow. “So, um,” he stammers, shifting his weight. “I know you’re about to eat, but I asked the DJ to play a song and I was hoping you’d dance with me.”
“Is this the song?” I ask, looking over at the dance floor.
“Yes,” he says. “Will you dance with me, Holliday?”
I nod and set my plate down without hesitation. “I’d like that.” He doesn’t realize I would say yes to anything he asked of me.
He takes my hand and heads for the dance floor, his fingers curling around mine possessively. I’m lost to how warm his skin feels, his touch always more than skin deep. When we reach the dance floor, he takes my other hand and we begin to dance, him taking the lead. He looks down at my face, his gaze hitting my mouth and moving up to my eyes. “I never thanked you properly… when we came back from Paris,” he says.
“Thank me for what?”
“For saving me.”
Looking down, we turn, keeping our feet moving. “You did onc—”
“I’m not talking about the plane crash.”
His eyes are fixed on mine, an intensity directed at me when he pulls me closer, cups my face, and he says, “You’re the calm to my storm.”
Staring up at him, my lips part, my heart thunders in my chest, and my cheeks heat. The song ends and clapping begins. I discover we have an audience, “People are watching.”
“I don’t care.”
That brings my attention back to him. “You don’t?”
“No, I don’t care about them. I only care about yo—” A loud tapping, a fork against crystal, interrupts him. I’m introduced to give my speech.
His hands fall away and we both look toward the microphone, everyone waiting on me. “Will you stay?” I ask.
“I’ll wait for you.”
I walk away to make a toast to the bride and her groom, but glance back, missing his touch already. After my speech, I sit next to Tracy while Alex gives his best man’s speech. My gaze shifts from Alex to Dalton. Dalton captivates me, and I watch him move to the bar. Loud laughter draws my attention back to the speech, but I missed the joke. Alex wraps up his toast and we all drink in the couple’s honor. Tracy leans over, and says, “He told me he wants to start over with you. Do things right this time.”
“To me, things weren’t so bad the first go round, but I’ll take this second chance… maybe it’s our fifth at this point. I’ve lost count and honestly, I don’t want to keep track.” I know how I want this night to end and I think I know how he feels, so I stand and say, “Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need luck. You’ve got everything you need already.”
“Using my advice against me, huh?”
“Whatever it takes to get you to see the light.”
“You don’t play fair, Trace.”
“It’s not about fair or unfair, right or wrong. It’s only about love. Now go get yours before someone else does.”
Not wasting another minute, I cross the room. Dalton’s leaning on the bar with one arm, his head tilted down. When he sees me, he stands upright, his eyes on me as if he can’t resist the temptation. I place my hand on the bar top, getting the bartender’s attention, and order, “An Old-Fashioned with extra orange please.”
“Coming right up,” the bartender replies.
Angling closer, Dalton says, “Rules are made to be broken, but laws, breaking laws can get you into a lot of trouble. Hate to be a dick, but I’ll need to see your ID.”
Starting over.
I giggle, remembering how a chance encounter has turned my world upside down… and after having time apart, I realize I wouldn’t change anything about the start of us. So I play along, and ask, “Are you being serious?”
He takes my hand just as the bartender sets my drink down. Taking a step closer, Dalton says, “You know, expectations can be a tricky thing. You think you know what’s going to happen and then something else does entirely, something out of blue. You don’t see it in that moment, but later, when you have time to reflect, you realize it was planned all along.”
I lean in closer, feeling that connection that binds our hearts, strengthen. “Divine intervention?” I ask, “Fate? Kismet? Destiny?”
“That’s the funny thing,” he says, keeping his voice low, just for my ears alone. “We try to label it to make ourselves feel less crazy for not being able to predict the outcome. But while we’re busy trying to define it, we miss the magic.” He closes the gap, his lips to my temple comforting to me, then he whispers, “I don’t want to miss the magic. I want you. Any part you’re willing to share with me, I’ll take. If time and distance is what you need, I won’t like it, but I can give you that. I love you, Angel.”
Right then and there—that’s when I knew I would stay. I knew I could never walk away from him again. I wrap my arms around his neck and close my eyes. Resting my forehead on his shoulder, I inhale, his scent making me whole again as every amazing memory I’ve been fortunate enough to share with him comes rushing back.
“I love you, Jack Dalton.”
Leaning back to look me in the eyes, he asks, “What about Johnny Outlaw? Can you learn to love him too?”
“What’s not to love about a rocker with a bad temper, sexy tattoos and a hot ass?”
With a chuckle, he wraps his arm around my waist and brings me close to kiss me, but stops and says, “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”
“I never could,” I say, touching my fingertips to his cheek. He shaved, but I still feel his five o’clock shadow.
His hands comfort me as he holds my face and I feel it, our connection stronger than it ever was before. He whispers, “I’m going to kiss you.”
“You’re warning me?”
“No, I’m making you a promise. The next time I kiss you, it’s gonna be the first kiss of our forever.”
I take in a trembling breath, his words filling my soul. I release it and say, “Dalton?”
His eyes have never been more green than they are right now. “Yeah?”
“Kiss me now.”
His lips press firmly against mine and when my mouth opens, we come together—warmth, love, and passion engulfing us. My eyes stay closed after our lips part, wanting to live in this dream world with him forever.
“Open your eyes, Angel.”
When I do, he says, “I thought Cory’s death would destroy me, but I realized it didn’t. Waking up without you did. Cory will always remain in the music, a part of me as my brother, but you, you’re my soul and I don’t want to live another day without you. Marry me.”