Forever Wicked: Wicked #4 Read online

  Ava flashes a broad smile as she bends to inspect the hemline. “Hell no. But when you called me, you seemed overwhelmed.” Her competent hands fly over the lace. “I can’t help with the cake or the man, but the dress?” Her green eyes flash. “I can always take care of the dress.”

  She straightens. “What are you doing for shoes?”

  I lift the skirt to reveal the kitten heels I brought in my purse.

  “Perfect. And are you doing the old, new, borrowed, and blue thing?”

  I cock my head. “Honestly, I hadn’t much thought about it. Blue doesn’t go with the bridesmaid dresses.”

  “Agreed. Screw tradition. You do you.” She makes a few notes on her clipboard. “So Nina has already come in for final fittings. Yours is done, Serena. We’re just waiting for Annie.”

  “Her aunt Grace should be here with her soon,” I say. “They just arrived back from an end-of-school-year trip to France.”

  Ava makes a little groan as she moves to my waist. “I love France. My man Nate’s been promising to take me for months now.”

  “Sounds romantic. Maybe the next dress you make will be for yourself,” Serena teases.

  “I’m not making my own wedding dress. Screw that. I’ll make my girls design it for me,” she decides as she works.

  “Are they designers?”

  “Hell no. Lex and Jordan are my business partners. But it’d be worth it to see their faces when I ask them.”

  Her full mouth purses as she pinches the fabric at my waist. “So, what are your plans for the week nutritionally? Are you a juicer? Because I’d give these Manolos for a quarter to a half an inch on this.”

  I smooth a hand down my stomach. “Oh. No, I’m not getting smaller.”

  Her gaze narrows. “So, I get that it’s not the most fun way to spend the week before your wedding, but—”

  “Haley’s pregnant!” Serena blurts.

  Ava blinks. “Well, shit. I mean, congratulations. You and Jax must be thrilled.” I don’t answer, and her mouth curves. “I will work my magic to make this waist lie flat.”

  She leaves the room, and Serena smooths invisible lines in my skirts with a half smile. Her gaze meets mine. “I get that you didn’t want to tell him over the phone from Philly, but you’re back now, and the doctor said the risk of miscarrying has gone way down.”

  Nerves that have nothing to do with the pregnancy dance in my stomach, and I rub a thumb over the delicate lace there.

  Inside, there’s something—someone—Jax and I created together.

  With all the stress of the wedding and the house earlier this spring, I missed taking a couple of pills. It was unlike me, but I figured it wasn’t a big deal, so I didn’t say anything to Jax before leaving for Philly.

  But from the second I took the pregnancy test last month, my heart racing as I stared in shock at the blue line, it feels as if I’ve been living a secret life.

  “You have talked about having kids,” Serena prods.

  “Yes, but we weren’t planning on having them yet.”

  The first time I learned I was pregnant three years ago, Jax and I were split up. I was heartbroken and unprepared to raise a child on my own. At first when I miscarried, it seemed like one more scene of the same nightmare unfolding. But looking back, I can’t help wondering if there wasn’t some relief in the tragedy.

  Serena squeezes my arm, bringing me back. “You’ve got this. Finding the right guy is the easy part. The rest of your lives? That’s the real test.”

  “You’re right.” Her words bolster my resolve but can’t quite strip away the worry. I always tested well in school, but this feels like a different kind of evaluation.

  I take a deep breath, willing myself to focus on the excitement instead of the terror.

  “I’ll tell Jax tonight.”

  3

  When I was touring as the frontman for the biggest rock band in the world, I spent twelve years telling people what to do.

  Where to be. What I wanted. What I needed.

  Now, my phone rings—Cardi fuckin’ B no less—and I grab for it.

  “When’d you change my ringtone?”

  “Before we went to France,” comes my spawn’s breathless voice. “Aunt Grace and I went for lunch, but there was traffic. We’re running late for the dress appointment.”

  “Serena’ll have your ass.”

  “Serena loves me. We’ll work it out.”

  I shake my head.

  “I’m calling because I don’t know if I forgot my hair straightener at the hotel. Can you check?”

  “Do I sound like your servant?”

  “Dad. Come on, please.”

  A muscle in my chest twitches. That’s what happens when you become a dad—nature cleaves off a piece of your heart and hands it to a tiny creature who grows into a teenager with moods and demands and lip gloss.

  I’ve made my peace with it.

  But right now, I don’t feel anything like free.

  I’m already underslept, and not for good reasons, like because I was hammering out a track with some aspiring musicians for Big Leap or because Haley and I’ve been fucking each other senseless.

  In fact, there’s been zero action leading up to this wedding because my wife-to-be has been dealing with a bunch of paperwork in another city.

  I’d had no idea my self-control was this low until I was forced to endure three weeks without Haley at my side, and in my bed.

  This afternoon, she met my gaze over lunch with the caterers and my groomsmen and Nina.

  Five minutes later, I had my tongue down her throat, fantasizing about my cock inside her and her moans vibrating against my hand so they didn’t echo off the cars in my garage.

  When Serena knocked on that door, I was ready to rip someone’s throat out.

  Because there’s no combination of pleasures in the world that trumps the feel of Haley’s soft skin, her sweet curves. The split second of hesitation the second I touch her, reminding me there’s no one in the world she’d let do to her what I do.

  When we were apart for two years, she took half my heart and carried it around in a backpack with her damned notebook computer. The past couple months she’s spent looking after the selling of Cross’s house and his last assets were an unwelcome reminder of that time.

  This week is about closing the door on any lingering doubt that Haley’s here and she’s mine—now and forever. It’s about knowing our future will be brighter than our troubled past.

  We’ve been through hell. I’m determined to give her the heaven she deserves.

  Satisfaction takes hold in my gut as I wind through the house to the foyer, where a dozen suitcases from friends and family still sit, waiting to be deployed to their rooms. It’s like the boarding lounge of an airport.

  I spot the suitcase in question—a lime-green one.

  “Front pocket,” Annie says over the phone as if she can see me.

  “You could flatten your hair with an iron.” I wedge the phone between my ear and shoulder as I yank on the zipper.

  “Not funny.”

  The thing’s stuck. How it’s possible I can play “Mr. Sandman” on guitar in my sleep but can’t get a suitcase open is beyond me.

  “You guys working on your super-secret man project today? Tyler’s pretty,” she goes on at my silence, “but I offered him a Rice Krispies square for breakfast, and he folded like dough.”

  “He was up before noon?”

  “We were talking last night. I might have fallen asleep in the pool house.”

  I picture my kid out cold on the couch, a blanket tucked up around her chin as she succumbed to the jetlag. Tyler on the other side of the room, snoring under the blankets.

  A talented musician with his own family shit to shoulder, Tyler gets this life we have. Haley and I agreed he needed to be part of the wedding, so we paid for his travel from Philly, despite his arguments, and put him up in the pool house. Annie was ecstatic when she found out.

  The z
ipper finally gives, and I reach inside. “There’s nothing in…”

  My fingers close on a packet that has my heart stopping.

  “Dad? Did you find it?”

  I step back, blink twice. It’s still there in my hand. A shiny strip of evil.

  “Dad?”

  I clear my throat. “It’s not here.”

  “…buy a new one, I guess. See you at dinner.”

  She clicks off, and after staring for another moment, I make my way out to the back patio and into one of the golf carts we rented for the week to get everyone around our massive property.

  The tiny vehicle bumps over a hill, around a grove of trees. Another. It’s June in Dallas, and the trees are blooming, birds are singing, and I’m officially beyond any of it.

  When I cruise over the last hill, my gaze lands on a group of figures. Mace. Brick. Kyle. The guys from my band. The ones I’ve known for twelve years, the ones I’d trust with my life.

  “There you are,” Mace says, straightening and leaning the nail gun against the wood frame as I park next to the half-raised structure we’ve been working on for more than a week.

  I take two steps in my work boots and snatch up a level in a grip that nearly breaks it. Kyle glances over from where he’s sanding, and Brick folds his arms without dropping his hammer.

  “Why are we building this again?” Brick asks.

  “It’s my gift to Haley.” I take the nail gun and head for one of the columns.

  “Jax. You need the verticals for that.”

  Every part of me stiffens, and I turn to lay eyes on the kid Haley and I said we’d been thrilled to have at the wedding.

  The one who’s staying in the nice, private pool house because he prefers the more modest surroundings to the main house.

  While my daughter has condoms in her suitcase.

  The innocent picture of her sleeping on the couch a room away from him rips in half, morphing into something that leaves me snarling as I stare at the kid in front of me.

  Tyler Adams looks as relaxed in the work boots I lent him as he does in scuffed sneakers. The faded denim and Pink Floyd T-shirt are his usual uniform. His hair is too long to stay back when he shoves at it, falling over his strong face.

  In short, he packs a lot of swagger for seventeen.

  “I’ll do that,” Tyler says, oblivious to my black thoughts.

  My hand flexes on the nail gun as he reaches out.

  He takes it from me, turning back to the gazebo. “I can nail in my sleep.”

  I don’t know what a heart attack feels like, but I’m guessing it starts with the blood pounding in my chest, the pulsing painful enough I think something in there’s going to rupture.

  “You came down here to watch?” Mace quips.

  I jerk my head to the side, and he follows me toward the steps.

  Mace will talk me down. He’s always had a soft spot for Annie, but despite his challenges since touring, he’s level-headed and has settled into a routine.

  “I found condoms in Annie’s suitcase,” I mutter.

  Mace drops his cordless drill on the floor. “The fuck. You think Squirt and Tyler…?”

  We both turn to take in the kid.

  It can’t be happening. I forbid it.

  If it is…

  “Murder’s tough to cover up,” Mace says.

  Fire lights my stomach. “Brick’d lie for us in a heartbeat. Kyle’s the wild card.”

  I watch Tyler work. He’s too competent. No kid should be that musically talented and good at building things. It’s not normal.

  “We can’t kill him, Jax.”

  There’s the voice of reason, and I force myself to take a breath. “You’re right. We’re musicians. A hit would be cleaner.”

  4

  When we finish our work for the afternoon without bloodshed and head back up to the house, I still haven’t decided what to do about my discovery.

  I take a shower, scrubbing my skin until it’s red.

  Six hours ago, all I could think of was getting my fiancée alone. Now, I’m being tortured by problems other than my libido.

  By the time I get back downstairs, most of the bags have disappeared from the foyer, and a group is standing around the island in the kitchen. It’s like feeding time on the savannah. I look from Brick’s, Mace’s, and Kyle’s intent faces to where Nina’s unwrapping the food the caterers dropped off for dinner.

  “There lobster, Neen?” Mace asks, sounding hopeful.

  “Where do you think we are, a Michelin-star restaurant?” my former tour manager tosses. But as my friend’s face falls, she relents. “Yes, there’s lobster.”

  Brick steps up to help her. “Oh, babe. Chicken cordon bleu? You’re a goddess.”

  “You say it like I made it,” she grumbles but lets him press a kiss to her cheek before she ducks out of his arms with a smile.

  Nothing tests friendships like having everyone you love in a house together. It’s an old-as-time reality show concept for a reason. With everyone living out of suitcases and twenty-four-seven food—catering was a must—it’s like being on tour again.

  A tall guy with sharp eyes and light-brown hair, wearing a V-neck sweater and jeans, appears from the living room.

  “Wes,” I say to Serena’s boyfriend, whom I vaguely remember was flying in from New York this morning. “Welcome to chaos.”

  He looks around the custom kitchen with vaulted ceiling as if he can see through the walls to the other five thousand square feet of house and the acres of grounds beyond that. “I’ve taught thirty teenagers biology. I’ve seen chaos. This isn’t it.”

  The guy seems straitlaced, but he has a confidence I like. As if he knows this isn’t his domain but he’s not intimidated.

  “You heard from the girls?” I ask.

  “Rena said they’d be back soon”—he checks his watch—“but not to hold dinner. I don’t know Haley well, but if my girlfriend’s looking at clothes? It might take a while.”

  Tonight, when Haley gets back from that dress fitting, I’m going to make her come so many times she forgets both our names.

  Tomorrow, we’ll finalize the vows with the minister at the church before getting some downtime with our friends for the bachelor and bachelorette parties Mace and Serena have planned.

  Next, we’ll run through the ceremony and rehearsal dinner at the church and estate where we’ll be married on the weekend.

  And before we know it, she’ll be walking down that aisle to me in the dress she’s been hiding from me like it’s her damned virginity.

  Then flowers, cake, pictures, and faster than you can say, “I sure as fuck do,” we’ll be on a private plane to Bali.

  Annie bounds inside from the patio, Tyler on her heels.

  “Where were you?” I demand, looking her over from her toes to her dripping hair.

  “Swimming.” She lifts a brow, smirking at me. “We have a pool. Haven’t you noticed?”

  “The hell are those?” Mace pokes at one of the dishes with a fork.

  “Fried pickles,” Annie volunteers, leaping toward the island and grabbing a plate.

  I’m not going to do my kid or my fiancée any good if I starve, so I grab a beef sandwich, then shepherd people toward the dining room with their piles of seafood, cold cuts, cheeses, crackers, pasta, and salad.

  We’ve all found seats at the table, which can easily seat twelve but still feels full tonight, when Wes says, “So, I don’t get how a celebrity wedding works.”

  “A celebrity wedding’s nothing like a normal wedding,” Nina starts. “One, the invites and seating arrangements are a beast. Every wrong pairing is a PR disaster waiting to happen. Some celebs just got divorced, and I’m not going to be held accountable for the fallout if they have to sit together. Plus, people are always offended they don’t get an invite, even if you only met them at one Billboard awards, like, eight years ago.

  “Which leads to two—people always show up who shouldn’t be there. Who aren’t in
vited.

  “Three, it’s impossible to control perception. No matter how discreet you think you are, someone takes photos they shouldn’t, there are cameras places you’ve said they can’t be, and people want you to look like a total moron.”

  “That sounds exactly like a normal wedding,” Wes points out, and the room laughs.

  But the hairs on my neck rise at Nina’s description. Even though part of me knows it’s true, none of those issues fits with the enjoyable experience I’ve promised Haley.

  “Fuck the circus,” I decide. “Let’s have it on the patio by the pool.”

  Nina’s gaze narrows as she holds up a fork. “You don’t mean that. The estate has been booked for months. The church too. Plus, there’s no way you could fit that many guests on the patio, and everyone invited was instrumental to your career. It doesn’t cost you anything to involve them in your wedding.” A beat. “Well, between the church and the estate for the reception, plus the dresses and tuxes and favors and flowers and invitations, it costs you multiple six figures, but other than the money…”

  She’s right, and Haley and I decided together on the church, the venue, the guest list.

  Still, I’m ready for things to be simpler.

  That’s another reason I was looking forward to Haley getting Cross’s house sold and moving to Dallas. To move forward, to focus on our family, to leave our pasts and the industry behind.

  The sound of the front door has me shifting out of my chair. My feet carry me toward the foyer in time to see Serena and Haley coming in.

  “Sorry we’re late. Some unplanned dress alterations,” Serena says.

  I look my fiancée up and down. “Impossible. She’s perfect.”

  Serena wraps me in a hug. “You’re a good guy.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” I grumble, but I like hearing it from someone Haley loves and respects, someone who shares my need to give Haley only the best life has to offer. “Food’s in the kitchen. Wes’s in the dining room. We haven’t eaten him alive yet.”

  “Good. See that you don’t.” Serena disappears toward the dining room.