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“I’ll give you a moment.” The officiant started off, then hesitated. “But I do have another ceremony in twenty minutes.”
Everyone ignored him, and he headed toward the organist, who appeared to be his wife.
“I thought you liked me.” Tears glittered in the bride’s eyes. “I’ve never done anything wrong.”
“It’s not about you,” Van said. “My brother is so many things—a son, a brother, an artist, and a businessman—but you don’t know them because you’re never around each other.” Van moved closer to Bex, lowering his voice. “Look, we’re on the road three hundred days a year. You want stability, you want a home. I get that. I want it, too. But you’re not going to get what you want from her.”
“A house came on the market. The one with the blue door.” Bex tipped his chin to Mary. “The realtor called her.”
Van’s expression softened. “I know what that house means to you, but I want you to think about something. One day, we’re going to stop touring, and you’re going to spend every day with her.” Van pointed to Mary. “Night after night, you’ll sleep with her, day after day, you’ll eat meals with her in that house that means so much to you. We’re talking about the woman you’re going to spend your life with.” Van shot a look to Della. “Now imagine coming home to her. With Della, you talk about things that matter. Have you ever met anyone who wants to know you the way she does? That woman blows in with her sparkly tool kit and high heels and gets shit done and asks us questions no one’s bothered to ask in ten fucking years. In my first five minutes with her, she figured out I’m not happy. That song you wrote tonight? That’s the best one you’ve ever written. And it took her to draw it out of you.”
Bex shot her a look so filled with longing, her knees went weak. A whirlwind of energy spun in her chest, sending out jets of pure excitement and making her want to run into his arms—make him feel what they are together: combustible.
In that moment, it all became undeniable. The attraction, the affection, that sense of perfect rightness when they were together.
A voice dropped into her mind and out of nowhere it said, Him.
He’s the one.
And she could swear on all that was holy she heard a whisper in the air from him that said, You.
You’re mine.
Finally, Bex shut out everyone in the room and spoke to his bride. “What’s your favorite song of mine?”
“I don’t know.” Her tone had an edge of impatience. “I like all of them.”
“But which one in particular?”
“Um, that one you played at the Superbowl? That everybody dances to? It’s a happy song.”
Holy shit. She has no idea what he writes. She doesn’t listen to his music.
“Is there a lyric in particular you like? One that stands out?”
“Why are you testing me? Whether I’ve memorized your lyrics has nothing to do with us getting married.”
“But it does. Because my lyrics are me. They’re literally a window into my soul.”
Mary grew flustered. “You know I’m not that into music.”
“Do you love me? Are you in love with me?”
Tension filled the room like a high-pitched whine.
Tears spilled down Mary’s cheeks. “Of course.”
“And you want to spend your life with me? Me, Mary. I’m talking about me. Not the idea of me, the idea of a husband, but me.”
“I…of course.”
“You’re asking the wrong question,” Van said. “Do you love her? Are you in love with her?”
“I didn’t know what being in love felt like.” Bex aimed his gaze right at Della. Until you.
He hit the bullseye, dead center of her heart, and she nearly cried.
“Why are you looking at her like that?” Mary asked. “Are you saying that after two days with her, you suddenly know what being in love feels like? Is that what you’re saying?”
Della could see it dawning on him. That this thing between them was real. Until he’d met her, he hadn’t believed in romantic love. In soulmates.
She understood. But for her, what had once been a fantasy, a yearning, had become truth. She believed in soulmates because she’d found hers.
And it would kill her if he didn’t see it, too.
“Is it?” Mary asked.
“Yes.” The simple word, spoken so plainly, so clearly, coasted through the room like a sweet breeze.
The bride lowered her bouquet. “You’ve broken my heart.”
