A Love Song for Always Page 7

  He laughs. “Only with a chaser.”

  He orders me a margarita to go with my coffee, and a few minutes later, both are in front of me courtesy of our personal bartender, plus a margarita for him. We clink mugs and glasses.

  “You aren’t worried about your abs?” I tease, nodding toward his six-pack stomach.

  “My dad might be a prick, but I have exceptional genetics.”

  “So, you won’t be checking out the gym while you’re here.”

  He shakes his head vehemently while he answers, “Every day at 6 a.m.”

  I throw my head back and laugh before starting back toward the loungers with a coffee in one hand and a margarita in the other.

  Beck and I shift into seats next to Elle.

  “Your speech at the party was epic,” she informs him. “All that stuff about togetherness. You must be practicing for your Emmy acceptance.”

  “I do have a working draft on me at all times,” he says. “But for real, I gotta remind you fools in love there’s a more important commitment than to each other.”

  “Which is?” Elle asks, opening a package of hair dye and laying her supplies out in front of her.

  “To the group. We’re together for life,” he vows.

  The words help soothe the dull ache in my stomach, and I lean over and hug Beck. “We’re going to remind you of that once you’re a legit A-lister and want nothing to do with us.”

  “Impossible.”

  Rae comes over wearing a one-piece with denim shorts, and I wave her to the lounger next to me.

  “You need a hand with that?” Beck asks Elle, watching her open her bleach and mix it in the shade.

  “Nah, I’ve been doing my roots for ages.”

  “Without a mirror?” Beck asks. “All right, Annie’s not going to say it, so I will. Think of the pictures. I’m not being photographed with a zebra.”

  Elle rolls her eyes. “Okay, fine. Hold your phone camera up for me?”

  Beck turns to do that, and I focus on Rae as she drops onto the next lounger.

  “Cute bathing suit.”

  She grunts as she reaches for sunscreen. She applies it, twisting to reach her back.

  “Here, I’ve got you.” I take the tube from her hand and rub some into her skin, scanning for any other marks.

  Beck and Elle are talking about some new joke she’s working on, and I lower my voice.

  “The other night after your set,” I say under my breath, “I noticed you had bruises on your wrist. As if someone had put their hands on you.”

  Rae stiffens but doesn’t answer. When I hand the tube back to her, I look at her wrist, still covered in bracelets.

  “It happened the first night in LA,” she says at last. “The booth at BLUE is in the middle of the bar. Partway through my set, this guy grabbed me from behind. Security was busy doing something else. I told them afterward they needed to pay more fucking attention, and they said they would. But the next night, I saw a woman getting pawed on the dance floor. She motioned for help, but no one came. I ended up leaving the booth and found her huddled in the alley behind the club. Her skirt was ripped. Her fucking hands were cut.”

  Shock rises up. “That’s bullshit.”

  “It’s assault,” she corrects. “And they weren’t going to do anything about it.”

  Disbelief and anger clash in my chest.

  “I told her to go to the police station to make a statement, even put her in a cab with all the cash I had on me to make sure she got there okay. I don’t know if she did. But if the club had done their fucking job, it wouldn’t have happened.”

  “Did you talk to the promoter who booked you?”

  “He brushed it off. I’ll take it to the owner.” Rae shifts back in her chair, sliding her glasses on her face. “But it’s part of a corporation and it’s hard to find someone to take responsibility.”

  “Let me help. If anyone puts their hands on you, I will hunt them down myself,” I vow. “Which corporation?”

  “Echo Entertainment Group. They have clubs from Paris to Ibiza.”

  Echo Entertainment. My stomach knots, but if I look ill, Rae doesn’t notice.

  “It’s not like I’ve never been treated like shit as a woman breaking into music. But when that happens in public and the people whose job it is to have your back turn a blind eye…” She shakes her head. “You hear about the industry, but it’s not until you’re in it that you experience it firsthand.”

  “We’ll fix this.”

  Is it just me, or do the words sound hollow?

  Because I know the man who runs Echo Entertainment, and he’s on his way here.

  “Whatever.” Rae stands and kicks off her shorts before I can decide what to say. “I’m going swimming.”

  She heads for the pool steps, and Beck hollers at her, “No. There’s only one way to enter a pool, woman.”

  He rounds to the deep end, his body shining in the sun and his RayBans firmly in place. Standing at the head of the pool, he holds up his arms as if demanding the world bear witness.

  “Well?” Elle drawls from where she’s reading a book, her roots covered in white goop.

  “It’s called building suspense,” Beck tosses back.

  Then he cannonballs into the pool.

  There’s a huge splash before he strokes down the pool and surfaces in the middle, tossing his hair back. He’s carefree, and it’s contagious. Still, I can’t completely join in because Rae’s comment is still echoing in my brain.

  “You gonna pull a ‘my makeup will get fucked if I dive in’? Because I flew hours from LA to get away from that.”

  Rae flips him off before jumping into the pool right on top of him.

  I have to tell her about Harrison King. But the second I do, all the ease in this moment evaporates. Ease all of us have deserved.

  He’s not even here yet. There’s nothing to do right now, I decide. So, I drain my margarita, leave the coffee, and follow them in.

  A few minutes later, Elle’s gone somewhere to grab a giant unicorn float and drops into it, bobbing around us while we talk. It feels like school and nothing like it.

  Rae looks past me, yanking off her sunglasses. “What the fuck is he doing here?”

  I turn, seeing a figure in khakis and a white T-shirt. It takes a moment for recognition to set in, but when it does, I’m floored.

  Finn Harvey approaches, one easy step at a time. It's as if no time at all has gone by since he was my mentor at Vanier even though I haven't seen him in more than three years, since I followed him to LA when Tyler and I were struggling and sang backup at a few of his gigs.

  He’s handsome, and smug, and entirely at home on this island.

  I haul myself out of the pool and drip across the patio to where he’s standing. “Finn? What are you doing here?”

  Finn cocks his head, grinning. “You’re the one who invited me. Figured you needed a backup groom or something.”

  My laugh is loaded with disbelief. “I invited you?”

  “All I had to do was get on the plane that picked me up.”

  I’m beyond confused, but something scratches the back of my brain. “You’re one of the artists from Wicked.”

  His grin widens, accompanied by a slow survey of my body that takes longer than it should. “It’s good to see you again, Annie. I’ve been following your career with more than a little interest. And I like to think I had a hand in it.”

  I glance over my shoulder to see Rae watching with interest, along with Beck and Elle. Something tells me they would be over here in a second if they thought something was wrong or I was in danger, but Finn and I are just talking.

  The bartender appears at our shoulders, offering to bring Finn a drink.

  Before I can protest, Finn asks, “What’s she having?”

  “Coffee and a margarita,” the bartender responds.

  Finn laughs. “I’ll take a vodka on the rocks.”

  “So, Tyler invited you,” I say when the bartend
er disappears.

  “See, that’s what’s fucked up about this industry. I know more than you do about the guy, and you’re marrying him.”

  The words have me bracing for a fight. “That’s not true. He has his career, and I have mine. This week is about me and Tyler making a commitment in front of our family and friends. To each other.”

  “Then why am I here?”

  I pause because I don’t know where he fits in. From his raised eyebrow, Finn knows exactly what I’m thinking.

  “Let me give you one more piece of advice. A wedding present,” he goes on. “Artists are self-centered. They don’t commit to another person.”

  His drink shows up, and he takes a sip before his gaze jerks past me, eyes narrowing on something in the distance.

  “Well, this should be interesting.”

  13

  It’s an unavoidable part of life that other men check out my fiancée.

  She’s beautiful enough to turn heads on the street, not to mention on stage.

  Except when I shift out of my golf cart to see Finn Harvey checking out Annie on the private island where we’re getting married, it feels very avoidable.

  Before I can reach them, Beck shifts in front of me and plants a wet hand on my chest. “Slow your roll, T.” His voice, low and deliberate, is more of a warning than the words. “You look as if you want to rip his spine from his body Mortal Kombat-style.”

  My attention drags slowly to my friend’s serious face. “Wanna help me?”

  “Hell yeah. But you don’t want me to help you because it will undo all the groundwork you’ve laid, and I assume Finn McDouchebag is one of the artists you and Jax invited here to woo for your deal.”

  Beck doesn’t miss much.

  I struggle for control. It’s typically my superpower, but as I see Finn talking to her, control slips through my grasp like white sand from the beach behind me.

  Because they were in LA together for several shows, while she was angry at me.

  “I never thought I’d have to tell you this, but focus, man,” Beck reminds me. “You got the girl.”

  I huff out a breath, conviction settling low in my gut.

  I brush past him, pulling up between my fiancée and the man I evidently have to play nice with for the next three days.

  “Finn,” I say tightly, taking in the man who looks entirely comfortable in a white linen shirt.

  The smile he flashes is one the cameras would love, one that would have every social media person coming in their pants and every Instagram advertiser toppling over one another to tie him to their brand.

  “The last time I saw you, you were on a stage and she”—he winks at Annie, which I hate—“was following me to LA.”

  “We all make poor choices in school.”

  Annie shoots us both a look before turning to leave. “New bikini,” she explains. “If there’s a pissing contest, I don’t want to get caught in the cross-stream.”

  A laugh that sounds distinctly like Beck’s comes from one of the patio chairs.

  “You’ll make a stunning bride,” Finn calls after her.

  I wonder if he’d be as relaxed after I shoved his head in the pool.

  “Let me guess, the niceties are over?” he tosses, turning back to me with a smug grin.

  He’s standing between you and getting this deal done. And once you get this deal done… you can enjoy the next month worshipping the woman you love.

  “After Shannon Cross died, Wicked fell into the hands of executives who cared more about money than artists. Jax and I have plans to remedy that once our offer is accepted. Young artists are the ultimate future of the company, but you’re its present. We can’t do it without you.” Each word is glass in my mouth.

  “This must be a point of pride for the family you’re marrying into,” Finn says.

  “We see an opportunity to help the industry, to save one of the most prominent labels.”

  “What if it doesn’t want saving?”

  My arms cross my chest as I try to guess his game. “Then you can go down with the ship. But there are other artists whose careers are only beginning, and I won’t let them go without the chances we’ve both had. Neither you nor anyone else is going to keep me from that.”

  His eyes flicker, though I can’t read the emotion beneath. Eventually, he laughs. “I admire you. If I was set to marry that woman this week”—he looks toward the villa—“I’d have nothing on my mind or my calendar except making her very, very happy.”

  Every muscle in me clenches.

  Finn's gaze drops to my left hand, the one covered in ink, the one that’s fucked up. “And it’d be so much easier seeing as how I have two good hands to please a woman.”

  He doesn’t know everything going on, but the comments have my gut twisting sharply, in anger and guilt.

  “Ty,” Beck calls, his voice a warning. “Let me get you a drink.”

  “I could use another too,” Finn tosses over his shoulder.

  When Finn turns back, I’m close to him. He takes a step backward on instinct, eyes widening before he can stop the reaction.

  I reach for Finn's shirt with my good hand. “You thirsty? Let me help.”

  I shove him backward into the pool.

  I’m pulling on a fresh shirt for dinner from the ones already hanging in the closet when I hear Annie’s yelp from the other room. I sprint out to see her bent double over one of the huge trunks.

  “That was not here before,” she mutters.

  “The staff brought them from the plane. I’ll have them moved.”

  She lifts the lid, revealing more merchandise. “You have to sign all of it this week?”

  “No,” I say firmly. “The label didn’t tell me they were sending it. It’ll keep.”

  Annie rounds it and heads for me, still in her white towel, her hair dripping over her shoulders. Her cheeks are flushed from the shower.

  Fuck, she’s beautiful.

  Her lips twitch. “You threw Finn in the pool.”

  I press a finger to her mouth, wincing. “Please don’t say his name right now.”

  “You invited him.”

  “I didn’t…” I groan because it’s still my fault he’s here. “I don’t know how I ended up with that asshole sharing our island the week of my wedding.”

  “Easy,” she murmurs. “My dad asked you to be part of a deal, and without consulting your future wife, you said yes. Through an unfortunate series of events, you invited my ex-mentor to our wedding.”

  It doesn’t feel any better when she says it, and I curse as I pull her hips against mine. “Nothing ever happened between you?”

  She arches a brow. “I told you it didn’t.”

  “Tell me again,” I whisper. The words are a demand, but my tone is desperate.

  “I’m not feeding your ego.” But her gaze drops to where my shirt hangs open, and her finger traces the lines of my pecs.

  “It’s not ego, Six. There’s no pride between us.”

  “Good. What about jealousy?”

  Every nerve ending tingles when she touches me, and I lick my lips. “Maybe a little.”

  She threads her fingers in my hair. “Remember when it was blue?”

  I grin. “Yeah.”

  Annie’s shoulders rise, then fall, with a heavy breath. “I liked it blue.”

  I get the sense she’s not only talking about my hair. That she’s remembering how things used to be.

  Which is its own kind of fucked because they weren’t simpler when we were friends fighting our attraction, our connection. They sure as hell weren’t simpler when we were starting a relationship behind her dad’s back.

  Were they?

  “I love you,” I say. “More than anything. You know that.”

  Her tiny hesitation is a blip, the smallest slice of time, but it breaks my chest open.

  To cover it up, I drag her against me. My lips claim hers, still warm from her shower and tasting of the sweetness of whatever she drank.r />
  What starts off simple turns into something layered and complete in an instant, like a liquor with a million flavors right beneath the surface.

  Annie’s gorgeous and raw, kind and edgy, and above all… mine. My best friend, my fiancée, soon my wife.

  No matter what Finn says.

  I won’t lose her. But my grip tightens as if I need to prove it.

  “Let’s skip dinner,” I whisper against her lips.

  “But our friends and family…”

  “They’ll be fine.”

  She’s already pulling back, and I swallow the groan of protest as she glances toward the open doors at the back of the villa. Annie steps away, and I’d give a million fucking dollars for her to walk back here and let me make her come against the wall.

  I want her. Not only physically, but that feels like the easiest starting point to fix whatever’s gone wrong between us.

  I follow her out onto our private patio. Lush green trees sway in the breeze, and Annie reknots the towel tighter around her breasts as she peers up into them.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  Little noises come from the trees—peeps and tweets. Annie circles the tree, craning her neck before her eyes go wide with delight.

  “Look!” She points.

  I stand behind her, following her directions to see a bright-orange bird hiding amongst the leaves.

  “Beautiful,” she murmurs. “I wonder what kind it is.”

  I wrap my arms around her from behind. “A cockblocker.”

  Her laugh tears out of her, and the bird, startled, flies away.

  She stares out at the water, the sun hovering over the horizon. “I’ve never been as excited for a rehearsal as I am for this one. I want to watch the sun go down on the last day before we’re married. I want to look at the sky, the stars, for that moment when the world stops and everything is right. And I want to do it with you.”

  My chest aches. “Sounds like heaven.”

  If only there wasn’t a day of hell between me and that.

  14

  Two days until the wedding

  “Where’s the coffee?” Finn gripes as he drops into a chair across the table.