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At her signal, Piper darts toward the DJ booth, and he nods, instructing someone to spotlight Molly before she takes a seat at the bench.
A garden filled with vibrant white and pink flowers, green bushes, and an enormous fountain make a stunning backdrop to where she sits. The murmurs gradually cease when she taps the microphone perched on the piano’s lid.
“Hi, everyone.” Her voice is shaky with nerves, but her focus is solely trained on me. “Rowan and I are incredibly grateful to have you all here, and I promise you’ll have plenty of time to get back to dancing.” Soft laughter rumbles through the gathering crowd. “But if it’s okay with you guys, I’d like to give my husband his wedding gift. It’s a song I’ve written, inspired by his mother, Amelia. A song I’ve named Rowan.”
A knot expands above my throat when she offers me a dazzling smile, and it’s nearly impossible to keep my composure when the first notes that ring across the courtyard are those from my parents’ wedding song.
She leans into each chord, closing her eyes as the song, once too painful for me to hear, morphs into something similar, but different.
It begins with the familiar, hauntingly delicate notes, each key echoing with a sense of melancholy that plucks every one of my heartstrings. As the melody unfolds, layers of intricate harmonies weave together, painting a brilliant picture in my mind.
The darker undertones manifest in the deeper chords, resonating with a sense of longing and sorrow. Yet, intertwined with these somber notes are bursts of light, represented by sparkling arpeggios that dance across the keys like rays of sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
To my left, Everett appears, and his hand on my shoulder damn near buckles my knees. Lucas steps to my right, watching my wife pay tribute to our mother, and not a single one of us can mask our admiration for what she’s created.
The world fades around us, leaving only me, Molly, and the testament of the transformative power her music brings with it. A glimpse of our future. A looking glass for the change we’re making here, and when the final note pings, I go to her.
She blinks open her tear-filled eyes as I lift her into my arms, and in the privacy of our embrace, I finally, blessedly allow myself to cry.
Molly’s hands stroke my back as I kiss her lips, holding her tightly while my shoulders quake from the enormous generosity of her gift. “I can’t thank you enough for this, kitten.”
Taking my face between her hands, she lovingly swipes her thumbs below my eyes. “You’re welcome, pretty boy.”
I huff a laugh, squeezing her once more. “I’m so goddamn proud of you.”
“It was actually fun playing for an audience.” Smiling up at me, she tucks a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. “Would you mind if I played another couple of songs?”
“Please.” I sweep my arm toward the seat, helping her shift her gown, and then press a kiss to her forehead.
“I love you,” I say with complete devotion.
Her eyes sparkle under the bright light shining on her. “I love you, too.”
Once she settles in, she announces the next song, and effortlessly glides her fingers across the keys. Meanwhile, I join Everett and Piper by the cake table, where they chat with soft smiles.
He assists her in pre-cutting slices of cake before arranging them neatly along the length of the table, but I sense a prickle of anxiety when I notice Lucas’s absence.
Everett looks dapper as ever in his sage-colored suit and light brown shoes. His glasses reflect the warm string lights when he glances up at me. “Hey, Row.”
I greet Piper with a nod, and she winks back at me before returning to her task.
“Thanks for coming,” I say appreciatively. “I know how chaotic everything is right now, but it means a lot that both of you could make it.”
“No way I’d miss a chance to meet the woman who brought Mr. High and Mighty to his knees.” He smirks while rubbing his hands together, dusting off bits of cake and icing. “I’m sorry about Archer, though.”
“At least he had the decency to call and decline the invite himself.”
Against my every effort, he remains suspiciously resistant. But despite what a disappointment that was, my big brother’s presence—hell, his guidance—is sorely missed.
“He’ll come around,” I say eventually.
I won’t give him any other choice.
“So, where do we go from here?” Everett asks.
His attention falls to the group of flitting bodies, dancing to a song Molly plays, but in the center, his gaze snares where Cayce is twirling his sister, Claire.
“That depends,” I say. “Are you willing to meet with the will executor?”
