Chapter Thirty-Two
Champagne Wishes and…
Rowan
“This looks amazing,” Nash said.
As I stood in the entry hall staring at the newly painted walls, I was flooded with excitement. “It really does,” I agreed. The fact that Nash and I were living together, as in cohabitating in the same bedroom, was going to take some getting used to. I was no longer scared of it, however. If anything, I was eager. Nash and I slowly made our way into the living room, where the white walls were now a light bronze and the light, airy furniture had been replaced with a large leather sofa and two overstuffed chairs.
“It doesn’t even look like the same house,” Nash murmured as we stepped into the kitchen. We’d replaced Maeve’s floral wallpaper with a light yellow color called Sundance. It not only lightened up the room, but it made it feel warm and inviting. Instead of replacing the kitchen table, we’d decided to use an island for all of our dining needs. The mahogany wooden barstools we’d purchased worked well with the yellow walls.
Nash’s fingers twined with mine as he led me from the kitchen to Maeve’s old bedroom. I’d thought about it a lot over the past few days, and if Nash ultimately decided that he still wanted to move, I would support his decision, even though I felt he would eventually regret it. I held my breath as he turned the knob and pushed open the door. Beige, instead of white walls, greeted us. Gone was the hospital bed and in its place sat a queen bed with a white tufted headboard framed in slatted wood that had been painted black. A tall wooden bookshelf stood where Maeve’s desk had once been and we’d replaced her white dresser with a cherry wood chest.
“You can’t even tell this was her room,” Nash quietly said.
“Do you regret the changes?” I asked.
He shook his head, before answering, “No, because I know she was here. Correction, we know she was here.”
I placed my hand over his heart. “She’ll always be with you. You know that, right?” Nash grabbed my hand and kissed it. Then he lifted me up into his arms and carried me up the stairs.
He set me on my feet outside of our bedroom door and loosely curled his arm around my waist. “You ready?” he asked.
I smiled up at him. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
His eyes narrowed defiantly on me. “Does this mean you’re going to sign the papers?”
His question made me laugh. “Quit asking me to sign the papers, and open the door,” I told him. He let out an irritated sigh before doing as I asked. We both stood there in stunned silence. It was one thing to pick out paint colors and furniture, but another seeing it so eloquently put together…
The old, cream colored walls were now a dark grey. In place of the squatty queen bed sat a mammoth platform king bed. The ebony carved bedframe was even better in the room than I’d imagined. The contrast of the silver-blue comforter against the stark white sheets was beyond eye catching. It was downright inviting. Grey, silver, and light pink accent pillows helped to lighten the dark tone of the room. Instead of keeping the two chairs in front of the fireplace, we went with a light grey love seat. Lying on the floor in front of it was a shaggy white rug.
“What do you think?” I asked.
His face lit up with a sexy smile. “Welcome home Miss Burns.”
* * *
Friday morning…
“Hey baby.”
“Hmmmm…?” I cracked open an eye to see what Nash wanted. If it was more sex, he was going to get a pillow in the face. He was standing beside the bed fully dressed with a cup of coffee in his hands. “This bed is dreamy,” I sleepily slurred, and breathed in the sound of his laughter. The sound of Nash Bostwick’s laughter filled my soul with happiness.
I held out my hands and he handed over the cup. “As much as I would love to stay and play hide-the-Bratwurst with you this morning, I have to get going. We’re laying vocals for one of Grant’s songs. What time is Mallory picking you up?” I checked the time, and sighed. I had a good hour before I had to be ready.
“She’ll be here at ten.”
“I love you,” he said, and placed a sweet kiss on my lips. My body instantly responded. I was sore in places I didn’t even know existed, yet I still craved him.
“Nash,” I called out as he turned to leave. I was going to warn him about my hair, but then decided against it.
“Yeah?” he asked from the doorway.
“Love you, too.” With a smile and a wink, he was gone. I flopped back onto the bed and reveled in my happiness.
* * *
Two hours later…
“Are you nervous?” Mallory asked.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, and sighed. At the moment I looked like a tin foiled Medusa. “I’m afraid Nash will hate it,” I confessed out loud.
“He loves you, so he’ll love your hair,” Mallory responded, as if she’d cornered the market on the subject. She clapped her hands in excitement. I can’t wait to see it. How much longer?” she asked the hairstylist.
The stylist appeared at my side. After checking one of the foils, she said, “I think we’re there. Let’s rinse.”
* * *
One hour later…
“Stop touching it,” Mallory hissed.
“I think I made a huge mistake,” I loudly whispered.
The receptionist stepped back into the room, and we both turned to her. “Your dress is ready for you to try on,” she announced. “Please, follow me.” She led us through a hallway and into a lavish dressing area, where a woman stood waiting for us with a welcome smile on her face.
“Good afternoon, Mallory. I think you’re going to be very pleased with your dress,” the woman said.
“Tiffany, this is my friend Rowan Burns. Rowan, this is Tiffany Elders. Tiffany designed my wedding dress for me,” she explained. Mallory gave Tiffany an excited smile. “I can’t wait to try it on.”
While Tiffany helped Mallory into her dress, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Instead of black curls, my green eyes were now framed by long, stick straight, auburn locks. I looked…strange. It was as if a part of my past had slammed head first into my present.
“I bet you get sick of people complimenting your hair color,” Tiffany said. I used to, I thought. “It really is striking with the color of your eyes.”
Mallory shot me an I-told-you-so look, and I rolled my eyes at her. “Thank you,” I told Tiffany.
After oohing and ahhing over Mallory’s dress, we headed to lunch at a posh restaurant nearby. Mallory had somehow managed to get us a coveted patio table.
“Your dress is absolutely stunning,” I told her, once we’d been seated.
“And your hair is gorgeous. I can’t believe you’ve been hiding it all this time.” She pretended to look hurt, and I laughed.
“I did it when I was on the run from Conor.” Mallory’s expression instantly sobered. “It felt wrong to keep pretending, but,” I fingered my hair, “this feels wrong, too.” Mallory reached across the table and grabbed my hand.
“I get it. In a way you’re both Gillian and Rowan. Your hair is gorgeous. You are gorgeous. You know, we’re very much alike. I had to learn to merge my past with my present in a very different way, but I still get what you’re going through.” The waitress stepped up with a bottle of champagne and two champagne flutes. My gaze locked on Mallory, and she smiled. “I thought we would celebrate.”
Over lunch and copious glasses of champagne, we discussed Nash, Grant, and the band. Both of us adored Evan and neither of us knew what to make of Chaz.
“I think he had a difficult childhood,” Mallory said as she took a bite of salad. She pointed her fork at me. “I can tell he likes you, though.” After nearly choking on my bite, I asked her how she’d come to that conclusion. “Because he gave you a nickname. Chaz gives nicknames to the people he likes.”
Arching a questioning brow at her, I asked, “What does he call you?”
“Malpractice, malady, maladroit, malaise. He’s actually got quite an impressive vocabulary,” she answered, and we both laughed.
After our salads, we ordered two types of pie for dessert. While waiting for it to arrive, we continued to sip our glasses of champagne. Mallory was approached by several Meltdown fans. A few asked for autographs and one even asked for a photo, all of which she graciously declined. I was surprised at how well she handled the fans.
“You’ll get used to it,” she said.
By the time we were finished with the pie, we were both somewhat drunk.
Mallory pointed to an alcove, and said, “I’m too blitzed to drive, so I’m going to step over there where I can hear and call Hank.”
I waved her off. “Don’t mind me. I’ll just be over here slurping down the rest of the champagne.” I wiggled the bottle, and laughed when some bubbled out of the top.
“Save some for me, bitch,” she whined. I made a point to fill her glass first.
As I was pouring the rest into my glass, someone bumped into me and knocked my arm. The glass toppled over and there went my champagne. “Hey! Watch where you’re going,” I said as I leaned over to grab my napkin off of the dirty floor. Before ending up with a lap full of bubbly, I slapped the napkin onto the table to absorb the sticky liquid. After a half-assed apology, the woman quickly scurried away. I contemplated going after her to demand that she buy me another damn glass of champagne, but then Mallory returned with a frown on her face.
“What happened here?” she asked.
“Some lady bumped into me and I spilled it,” I whined.
“Here, have my glass. Grant was in the room when I called Hank. He’s pissed. I was supposed to meet him at the cake shop in an hour and now I’m too drunk to drive. Hank’s driving him to get us now.” Mallory waved over the waitress and handed her a credit card.
“Grant’s not going to notice if you’ve had one more glass,” I scoffed.
“I know, but he took all the fun out of it.” She handed the glass over. “There’s no need for both of us to end this lunch sober. Drink up.” I took a few more sips, before giving up. Mallory was right. It wasn’t as much fun if both of us weren’t hammered.
On our walk back through the restaurant, I began to feel a little flushed. I’d forgotten how champagne affected me. When we reached the front door, I was no longer flushed, but hot and my throat felt as if something was trapped in it. When my vision blurred, I knew I was in trouble. Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. I grabbed for Mallory, but she wasn’t there. I clawed at my throat. Literally, I couldn’t breathe. It felt as if the inside of my body was melting. I opened my mouth to scream, but nothing came out. I couldn’t even tell if Mallory was there or not. Street noises converged in to one long silence as I dropped to my knees…and collapsed onto the sidewalk.