T he morning of the wedding was the hottest one yet .

Sometime in the night, white chairs had appeared on the lawn, set up in neat rows to face a pergola artfully woven from shimmery white fabric and rustic pieces of wood. It looked like one of those homemade things my aunt used to make with crap from the craft store, but it probably cost more than a car .

Someone, most likely a worker but I wanted to think it was Tallula, had tucked little sprays of yellow flowers - the ones she and I had picked yesterday - into the white-knotted fabric. As I stood at the altar, I kept glancing at them over my shoulder, winking out at me every time the hot breeze blew. Like innocent little secrets .

A hired violist was sweating through her repertoire as the guests made their slow progress to their seats. Niall's parents were the last to be seated, his mother already pressing her handkerchief to her mouth, green eyes shining with proud tears as she looked up at the four of us. As she looked up at her son .

Then the music stopped. There was a rustle and then an errant cough. A bee buzzed in and out of the winking yellow flowers, and everyone stared, waiting .

I'm a pro. I'm perfectly at home singing shitty cover songs to indifferent bar patrons who show their appreciation by chucking beer bottles at my head. I'm also absolutely at ease playing to a packed stadium full of fans who show their appreciation by flinging their underwear at my head. Both are fine. Both are just part of the job. Being up in front of people has never bothered me at all .

But there's a difference between playing for a crowd - be it a few belligerent drunks or thirty thousand rabid fans - and standing up in front of your bandmate's rich relatives and trying to look like you belong .

Never let them see you sweat. I've always held on to that. But in this wool suit on this blazing hot day, I was definitely starting to sweat. Literally .

To my right stood Jules, who looked like the effort it took to keep from tapping nervously on his thigh was making him nauseous. Ewan stood on the other side of him, straight-backed and with his chin lifted. He kept glancing at Niall, as if trying to get his attention, maybe show him how it was done .

But Niall wasn't looking at us. He wasn't looking at much of anything. He stood with his hands clasped in front of him, staring straight ahead, refusing to even acknowledge his surroundings - the coughing guests, his teary mother. He was focused - like a laser - on the house that loomed above us on that small hill .

Up there, a door finally opened and the music began again .

August came first, her red hair blazing like a sunset and a fiercely serious expression on her face. I felt, rather than saw, Jules stand straighter, like he drew his strength just from seeing his woman .

Next was Celia, arrived this morning and looking no worse the wear from having slept on a plane. Ewan cleared his throat and I could feel his pride rising off of him in waves as she processed down the aisle to stand to the right of the altar .

Then we waited. The next bridesmaid in line had the dual honor of being both the groom's sister and the bride's maid of honor .

Tallula was next .

I nearly strained my neck trying not to look like I was looking for her, all the while looking for her as hard as I could. As the seconds ticked by, I wondered if she wasn't going to step out, if the problem with her dress hadn't been resolved. After the flower picking yesterday, she had disappeared for the rest of the day, sticking close to her mom like she needed that buffer between us .

As if to answer my question, a small, sweetly curved shape suddenly stood silhouetted in the door of the mansion, the strong sunlight washing out her features .

But I'd know that body anywhere .

As Tallula stepped off the wide, deep front porch, I sucked in my breath. From this far off, I couldn't tell if she was smiling, but I was doing enough of that for both of us to see her coming to me .

No.

To us .

To the altar .

To her brother's wedding .

Not me .

God damn it Hudson. Get it together .

But that was a tall order. She floated down the aisle with her simple golden bouquet clutched demurely in front of her. The black dress she'd been struggling with had been swapped out for one that fit her even better. The way it swooped along, barely grazing her collarbones, like a kiss, had me breaking out into a sweat all over my body .

Her eyes flicked up, just once, to catch mine. Maybe she didn't even mean to look at me, maybe she was trying to give silent encouragement to her brother, who was looking like he wanted to faint. She turned and stepped over to stand with the bridesmaids, even though I wanted her over here with us. With me. But it was sweet the way she was standing for Reese, who didn't have much by way of family. Sweet. Like her face. Like her lips. Like everything about her .

I could tell from the murmur of the guests that Reese had appeared. Niall stiffened, like a bolt of electricity had struck him. But I couldn't tear my eyes away from Tallula long enough to even see his bride .

Everything that happened next, I experienced by watching the expression on her face. The welling of tears as they exchanged their vows. The laughter when Reese had to shove Niall's ring on really hard. The smile at the kiss. The applause as they exited man and wife .

And the glance my way when it was all over and it was time for the recessional .

Ewan stepped over and linked arms with Celia .

Jules rushed over and grabbed August tight .

And that left Tallula .

And me .

I offered my arm. She lifted her chin and caught my eyes. "Gotta go," I told her, in a voice much calmer than I felt .

She rested her hand on my arm, barely grazing the fabric of my suit and we stepped forward in unison. "You clean up nice," she whispered, keeping that pretty, perfect smile pasted on her face as we walked together back down the aisle .

I liked having her touch me like this. I liked the way her fingers tightened ever so slightly around my bicep. I liked the press of her breast against my arm .

I didn't like the way everyone was watching us right now. Because the things I was thinking had to be written all over my face. I felt like I was ready to shatter as we neared the rest of the wedding party lined up in front of the house for pictures .

Luckily Niall was too wrapped up in his own excitement to notice I hadn't let go of Tallula yet. He and Reese grabbed hands once we reached the porch .

"Yeah!" he shouted, lifting her arm up high. We all clapped as flashbulbs exploded .

There were a couple scandalized gasps from the rich relatives down below, but Jonah King shouted, "Yeah boy! Get it!" and Niall laughed and kissed Reese .

It was the kind of long, slow kiss that made us all avert our eyes. I took the opportunity to avert mine right onto Tallula .

Her nose was wrinkled up prettily as she looked away from her brother. Jonah, who'd spent time as our opener on the American leg of the tour, seemed to suddenly want the main stage. He was leading the rest of the guests in a chant of, "Kiss her! Kiss her!" that even some of the olds were starting to get into .

Tallula was reddening by degrees. "Not something a sister likes to see, huh?" I teased .

She shook her head. "I'll make an allowance given that it's his wedding day and all, but no. As far as I'm concerned, my brother is a completely sexless being ."

"Think he thinks the same of you ?"

She glanced up. "Of course he does," she said and if there was a hint of warning in her voice, I was being deliberately obtuse .

"He really doesn't like when you date, huh?" I asked, prying shamelessly now .

"He really doesn't know when I date," she said primly, deftly sidestepping my implied question. Then she shook her head. "But I don't think he likes it paraded in front of him either ."

There was definitely a warning there. I nodded and looked away, letting my grip on her arm ease up a little. Letting her step away from me if she needed to. I'd heard what she was saying and knew she was right. She really should go .

But she didn't drop her hand from my arm. Her fingers tightened almost imperceptibly. She shifted closer to me, and her lips parted just a little to allow a small, private sigh to escape. I reached over and brushed my knuckles up her bare arm. She inhaled sharply, and glanced at me through heavy-lidded eyes. I brushed my hand back down again and when my fingers grazed the back of her hand, she turned it away from my arm, palm up, to close her fingers around mine. Just the tips. Just a fraction .

The sun blazed down on my head like a spotlight but the heat inside of me was all from her .