Page 119 of Bound To Be Mine

The guests were having a great time. And my bride and groom were happy. That’s what mattered.

I grabbed a bottle of water from the bar and found an empty chair tucked in a corner where I could observe without being in the way. My feet were screaming in protest after hours in heels, but I had survived. The bride was radiant, the groom looked happy, and nobody was crying except at the appropriate emotional moments.

I took a long drink of water and let myself relax for the first time all day.

The band finished their current song, and instead of launching into the next one, they paused. I noticed the lead guitarist conferring with someone off to the side of the stage, but I was too tired to pay much attention. If any more issues cropped up, I would hook my phone up to the speakers and let my playlist finish out the night. I was not going to hunt down another DJ or band for the last hour of the reception.

Then a deep, familiar voice came through the speakers.

“Excuse me, is Mandy Carter here?”

My head snapped up so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash. I squinted at the stage, certain I was hallucinating from sheer exhaustion.

But no. That was definitely Briggs standing up there with a microphone in his hand, scanning the crowd.

What the hell was he doing here?

Our eyes met across the reception hall. His face broke into that smile that made my heart skip three beats.

“There she is,” he said into the mic, still looking at me. “This one’s for my wife.”

The opening notes started, and I recognized them immediately. The same song from that video. The one he’d sung to me in Las Vegas while completely wasted. The song I didn’t remember him singing to me but had seen the video proof so I knew it happened.

Wise men say, only fools rush in…

But this time, his voice was clear and steady. No slurring, no off-key enthusiasm. This was Briggs actually singing, and oh my God, he could actually carry a tune when he wasn’t drowning in tequila.

I sat frozen in my chair, my water bottle forgotten in my hand. Around me, the wedding guests had turned to watch, charmed by this unexpected romantic gesture. I heard someone whisper, “That’s Briggs Blackwell,” and someone else respond, “Oh my God, is that really his wife?”

He never took his eyes off me as he sang. The band backed him up perfectly. He must have coordinated with them beforehand. They knew exactly when to come in, when to pull back, supporting his voice without overpowering it.

And when had he arrived? How long had he been at the wedding? I’d been so caught up, I never even noticed him.

But I can’t help falling in love with you...

My vision blurred with tears. This man. This ridiculous, wonderful, infuriating man had flown across the country and crashed a wedding just to sing to me in front of hundreds of people.

When he got to the chorus, several guests started swaying, caught up in the romance of it. I saw the bride clutching her new husband’s arm, both of them watching with huge smiles. Even the bride’s mother, who’d been a nightmare all day, had her hand over her heart.

Take my hand, take my whole life too…

The song ended to thunderous applause. Briggs handed the microphone back to the lead singer, thanked the band, and made his way down from the stage. I met him halfway, weaving through tables of cheering guests.

When we reached each other, I threw my arms around his neck. He caught me, spinning me slightly, and I couldn’t stop laughing.

“What are you doing here?” I managed to get out between laughs and tears.

“Singing to my wife,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I pulled back just enough to look at his face, then leaned in and smelled his breath. He laughed, understanding immediately what I was checking for.

“Stone cold sober,” he confirmed. “Not a drop of alcohol in me. That was all me up there, embarrassing myself completely willingly.”

“That was amazing,” I said. “You were amazing. I can’t believe you just did that.”

“I can’t believe I just did that either.” He was still holding me, one hand on my waist, the other cupping the back of my head. “But I needed to see you. And I figured if I was going to fly three thousand miles, I might as well make it memorable.”

“Mission accomplished.”