I’D BEEN EXCITED about going to Delilah and Brooke’s wedding when the invitation had been extended, but now I was miserable. Flynn had been working like a maniac for days and I’d barely seen him. He left early, he came home late, and he hadn’t touched me at all—even when we were sleeping. He slept on one side and I slept on the other, and it felt like the Grand Canyon was between us. We’d gone from having sex at least two or three times a day to not touching at all. I’d had my period for a few days and had planned to tell him I was out of commission, but since he never spoke to or touched me, I never needed to.
Last Friday, he made an excuse about needing to do something with the record company he and the band had formed in order to get out of having to spend the afternoon with me taking his photo.
I knew, of course I knew, he was pissed at me about my reticence to be enthusiastic about his home building plan, but really… how could I be? It would be beyond careless of me to allow myself to believe our future was assured, when it wasn’t.
My photo shoots with the rest of the band had ranged from fun (Gavin), to scary (Tyson) to sad (Cole), and each of them had taken the time to tell me they were worried about Flynn, which made me feel horrible.
I’d asked management to have the guys take me to their favorite places for their photo shoots. On Monday, Gavin had taken me to Zuma beach to take pictures of him surfing. Gavin was known for being incredibly intense, but I found him to be extremely calm and very thoughtful. During our time at the beach, he told me he’d gotten into surfing a few years ago as a way to channel his demons. I didn’t know his story, but the surfing definitely had him calm. He called surfing his moments of Zen, and it was very clear it was working.
Gavin was a fairly quiet guy, but at the end of the day he’d asked me if he could speak freely. After I nodded, he said, “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you and Flynn, but he went from being the happiest I’ve ever seen him to acting like he’s a funeral director. I don’t expect you to tell me anything, but I’m telling you—I’ve never seen him hurting before, but he is now. Whatever you’re doing… please, think it through. You seem nice and I can’t imagine you being cruel on purpose, but you’re hurting him. I just thought you should know.”
I’d tried to assure him I wasn’t doing anything to Flynn, but the look he gave me indicated he thought I was full of shit.
Tuesday I’d gone out with Tyson, and he had taken me flying in his small plane. It had been one thing to be on the ground taking photos, but being in the air in the tiny plane had me almost in full vapor lock. He talked to me about Flynn after I finished taking pictures while we were in the air. His logic seemed to be I was a captive audience and he had things to say.
“I don’t know you, but what I do know is my friend went from being happier than I’ve ever seen him to being a fucking robot. I personally think he should kick your ass to the curb because you’re making him fucking miserable, but when I said as much to him he almost beat my face in. Your timing fucking sucks and I think it’s selfish as shit you’re doing whatever it is you are to him right now. Do you even care he can barely make it through a rehearsal because he’s so out of it he can’t remember the fuckin’ words to our songs? I’m not saying Flynn’s a fucking saint, but I know him well enough to know if he could fix whatever is broken, he would. The fact he can’t do so tells me the problem is you. My suggestion is to get your head out of your ass or leave him the fuck alone. I’m sorry because I know I’m blunt, but believe me, life is too fucking short for bullshit and drama, and where my friends are concerned I speak my mind. He deserves better than to be some bitch’s emotional punching bag. I admit that I don’t know if you’re a bitch or not, but right now, I really don’t give a shit. All I see is you hurting my friend.”
So much for Leah’s assertion that Gavin was the scary one and Tyson was the beautiful one. Tyson was beautiful, but he was also too blunt for comfort. It was clear he took his friendships very seriously, and he felt strongly about speaking up. I could respect it, even though I felt attacked.
“Tyson, I don’t know where you got this impression of me but I’m not… I’m not doing anything to him, I promise. I’m not jerking him around and I’m not trying to make him miserable. It’s breaking my heart he’s so disconnected, but I’m not making any headway in bringing him back. I’m not going to stop trying to get him back to normal. If you believe nothing else I say, believe this; I feel very strongly about Flynn and I don’t see him as my emotional punching bag. I would never do that to him.”
Other than saying goodbye and telling me he assumed he would see me on tour, Tyson didn’t say another word.
As awkward as that was, being with Cole was worse. He’d taken me to a hole in the wall bar in the neighborhood he and Flynn had grown up in. Management had arranged it so we were the only people in the bar, and Cole had gotten onto the tiny stage where Renegade Saints had played for the first time and began to strum out a song. He explained he’d chosen the bar as his favorite place because it was a reminder of a time when things were easier and more innocent.
When we had finished shooting, he gestured to a table and asked me to sit with him. I knew right away what was coming and my stomach sank.
“First, I want to tell you I like you, Tessa, and I really had hoped things between you and Flynn were going to go all the way. I know Gavin and Tyson already talked to you, and I want to apologize if Tyson in particular upset you. He doesn’t pull punches, but he wasn’t trying to be cruel, even if it seemed that way at the time. He’s had to deal with a lot of shit most people don’t understand and it’s made him tough.”
He paused for a moment as he fiddled with a coaster on the table before saying, “I don’t know what’s going on with you and Flynn and it worries me. We’ve been best friends since we were babies and I’ve always known everything that’s happening with him. For the first time ever, he’s gone silent. When I ask him what’s going on, he clams up and says he can’t talk about it. While he was with you and things were good, I saw Flynn completely content in a way I haven’t since before his mother died.”
Again there was a pause, but this time I saw Cole was choked up. After clearing his throat, he continued, “Rachel Rand was my second mother and I adored her. She was amazing, the very best type of person because she cared and she lived life to the fullest. Her world revolved around her husband, her son, her family and her friends. Flynn’s incredibly close to his father, but when she was alive, he was a mama’s boy. He and Rachel were joined at the hip, and losing her changed his entire life. Stories about Rachel and Todd’s courtship have become part of the family folklore, and Flynn always maintained if he couldn’t find what his parents had, he wasn’t going to settle.”
Looking up at me, he stared me dead in the eye. “Whatever he was looking for, he found it with you. I’ve put in a lifetime alongside him and I knew right away you were his Rachel. At least I did, until he showed up to rehearsal last week looking like he’d been stabbed in the heart. In twenty-nine years, I’ve seen my brother completely annihilated a very few times. I don’t know the details of what happened, but what I do know is Flynn wouldn’t look or act the way he is if he believed your relationship had a chance. And since I know what he wanted from you, I know it means whatever is happening is a choice you made. I hate to put it out like this, but I see Flynn as my brother and I can’t watch him suffer and say nothing. If you don’t want him, let him go. He doesn’t deserve whatever’s happening.”
I’d tried to plead my case, but Cole told me it wasn’t what he wanted at all. Smiling sadly at me, he said, “If you’re going to talk, Flynn’s who you need to talk to.”
By the time I got home that day, I was so depressed I could barely function. Flynn didn’t come home until after two in the morning that night, so I never had to pretend to be okay. I was up when he came to bed, but I stayed silent. The worst part was I knew he was aware I was awake, but he said nothing.
Cole’s words were always on my mind, but I didn’t know how to go forward. Flynn avoided me like I had the plague and I was scared to put myself out there for fear I’d be pushed away.
I had been waiting for him to get beyond the conversation we’d had, but I was petrified he wasn’t going to. The drive out to Malibu for the wedding passed in almost dead silence. Anything he said was monosyllabic at best, and I didn’t know what I could do to get him to be present again. It had only been a week, but it felt like months had passed by.
Seeing his family again was bittersweet. I’d come to really care about each and every one of them, and I knew with the way things between Flynn and I were falling apart, I’d not be seeing them much, if at all, in the future.
Delilah and Brooke looked amazing in their wedding dresses, both of them so full of joy and certainty about their future with the men they loved. It was hard to look at. Delilah had an extra glow about her because she was pregnant. Her easy posture and serene smile as everyone around her was a flurry of activity to get everything ready gave her an air of contented happiness. It told its own story about what it felt like to have your dreams come true.
The wedding was heart-touchingly beautiful. Dante and Sabrina gave Brooke away, while Todd and Sandra gave Delilah away. I hadn’t been expecting it, and it made me cry. It was so beautiful Delilah had included her father, and I knew it had to have meant the world to Todd.
When it came time to declare who gave Brooke to Damien, Dante and Sabrina said they did. Then it was time to declare who gave Delilah to Spencer and Damien, Dante, Sandra and Todd all indicated they did. Sylvia was seated right next to me, and she was crying her eyes out. Mason was choked up as well.
Both couples had chosen to write their own vows, and there wasn’t a dry eye to be found as they pledged themselves to each other. Reaching over, I took Flynn’s hand in mine and squeezed. The block of ice who was the love of my life didn’t squeeze back, and I pulled my hand away as I felt my soul ripping apart.
The rest of the night was passing in a blur of everyone eating and dancing to the songs the DJ was spinning. I was in the dumps, but I think I did a good job hiding it. At least I did enough to ward off people asking questions, but I did notice Dillon and Dominique seemed off as well, so maybe it kept the attention off of me.
When it came time for the traditional first dance, I was stunned to see Flynn step forward with an acoustic guitar. I had no idea he was going to sing.
Apparently, I was the only one who didn’t know because no one else showed surprise. We all assembled around the small dance floor set up under an open-air tent in the sand and applauded as he took a seat on a stool and adjusted the mic in front of him.
Brooke and Damien glided onto the dance floor as Flynn began strumming the opening notes to Jason Mraz’s “I Won’t Give Up,” as the happy couple beamed at each other. After spending the last week deprived of him, I almost lost it at the sound of his voice.
When Brooke and Damien’s dance ended, Delilah and Spencer walked to the floor. I melted when he started to sing The Beatles’ “In My Life.” My emotions were all over the place, and I wanted to run from the beach and scream. I’d never have what Delilah and Spencer did, and it hurt.
Instead of running, I stayed in place and applauded with everyone else when the dance ended. Spencer shared a look with Flynn and nodded his head, and the next thing I knew Flynn had broken into, “Having My Baby.” We were all a mixture of laughter and tears. The song was cheesy, but Flynn’s voice made it beautiful.
He’d finished singing and was moving to get off the stool when Sylvia called out and told him to play a love song that made him think of me so everyone could dance. Any piece of my heart left intact cracked into a million pieces as I waited for him to tell her no love song reminded him of me because we were over.
Instead, he nodded his head and began to strum out a song that I immediately recognized. It wasn’t a mainstream song, but it was one of my all-time favorites, and I couldn’t believe that of all the songs in the world, he’d chosen that one. The song he sang was Damien Rice’s “Cannonball,” and it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard in my whole life. As word after word came from his mouth, his eyes never left mine. Tears ran down my face unchecked as he sang, but I was helpless to stop it.
By the time he was finished singing and had put the guitar down, I was as close to unglued as I’d ever been. It physically hurt at the deepest level that what had started out so beautiful had turned so ugly.
Once the guitar was down, he was across the dance floor in a flash, grabbing my hand as he guided me toward the house.
“Get your purse, we’re leaving in five minutes. I’m exhausted from pretending around them everything is fine with you and I just want to go home. I’ll tell my family we’re leaving. Meet me at the car.”