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PROLOGUE
***
DECLAN
I’m getting married in less than an hour, and the panic rising inside my chest is enough to suffocate me. I try my best to take a deep breath, to calm my racing mind, but it’s no use. My eyes meet Isla’s in the mirror as she stands behind me, both of us admiring the perfect satin white dress that hugs my curves in all the right places. Her lips curve into a smile, and I beg my own to do the same—to not pull this shit on what is supposed to be the most memorable, beautiful day of my entire life.
“What’s wrong?” I whip around to face Isla as tears cloud my vision. “Hey,” she whispers, grabbing my hands and leading me to sit down on the same sofa she and my other bridesmaids were just taking photos on thirty minutes ago. “Tell me.”
I force my gaze to find hers, ashamed as the tears I’ve been holding back start to fall. “I don’t know if I can do this,” I tell her, my lungs seizing under the weight of everything I’ve been holding back. “I shouldn’t feel like this on my wedding day. I should be excited. I should be filled with fucking happiness and butterflies and all that shit you see in movies.” I pause as I choke down a sob, and Isla pulls me into her, locking her arms around me. “I feel like this is a huge mistake.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Isla says, her eyes searching mine for answers. “I don’t understand. Where is this coming from? Is it just nerves? You love Lucas. You’ve been so happy.” Her dark stare all but penetrates my soul. Spiral curls bounce as she shakes her head, and all I can think about is how I’ve convinced even one of my closest friends that I’m happy enough to get married. That I could ever love Lucas the way I’ve loved another man—two other men.
Men I have no business thinking about on this day. Men that I know aren’t thinking of me today—or any day, for that matter. I just need to snap out of it. Let go of those dreams, of the way I envisioned my life going.
I have to stop.
I sit up straight and force a deep breath down into my lungs, blinking rapidly to get rid of my tears. Push it down. Push it away. Not today, Declan.
“I think it’s just wedding-day jitters,” I lie to my best friend. It isn’t. I know it isn’t. But I have to go through with this. Lucas is so kind to me; he’s so right and so good. I can’t hurt him the way I would if I ran away now. I refuse to do that to someone who has only been wonderful to me. “I’m just nervous. God, I’m such a cry-baby bitch.” I stand and shake my arms as if that’ll get rid of my nerves.
Isla stands and comes to my side as I try to fix my makeup. I don’t meet her eyes in the oval mirror this time, though. I can’t allow myself to lose control again. This is the route my life is meant to take. I’m meant to be with Lucas and settle down with him, live a good life with a good man who will be good to me. This is how things are supposed to go.
“Are you sure, Dec?” Isla asks and I nod, but I want to scream, No.
I’m not sure of anything at all.
I dab away the tears—thankful the makeup artist used waterproof mascara—just as the door bursts open and the guys come in with bright smiles, yelling and cheering about it being my big day.
“Declan Rothschild, I never thought I’d see the day, my beautiful lady.” Miller, the guitarist of our band, pulls me into his chest and bear hugs me.
“Hey, watch the dress,” Isla says, batting him away playfully. “Don’t get your greasy man paws all over the satin.” She laughs as Bordeaux, Reckless Desires’ lead singer, wraps his arms around her. The two of them have been living their own happily ever after since they met by chance at Bordeaux’s grandmother’s record shop going on two years ago. It’s hard to believe our listening party—when we finally broke free from Hellfire—was a year ago now.
Lucas got down on one knee only a week after our party at Iconic, Bordeaux’s grandmother’s venue. We’ve had a longer engagement than he wanted. It’s been 373 days since he proposed. I’ve counted. And each passing day, I knew my heart wasn’t in it. But I couldn’t break his heart. I didn’t want to hurt Lucas. I still don’t, and now my time is up.
My eyes find Flynn, our drummer, and I swear a look of recognition crosses his face before I walk over and hug him. It’s like he somehow knows what Isla and I were just talking about before they walked in.
“I’m so happy for you, Dec,” he breathes into the side of my neck. “You make a gorgeous bride.” I pull away from him as he kisses my cheek.
I honestly don’t know what I’d do without my band, without Bordeaux, Miller, and Flynn. The guys keep me sane. I’m the only woman in our group—and as far as I see it, thank God I’m here. They definitely need some feminine vigor among all their masculine energy. I thank the guys for barging in and hope none of them can sense the dread boiling in my stomach.
“It’s time!” Mindy, the wedding coordinator, peeks her head in the door as my other bridesmaids trickle in, back from their solo photos out in the venue’s courtyard. It’s a beautiful winery, the same one Lucas got down on one knee at. I would have never been able to afford this prior to our band blowing up a few years ago.
Mindy’s words are accompanied by Isla shooing the guys out of the room and everyone’s laughter and excited energy as they leave. It’s go time. There’s no turning back. I’m marrying Lucas. I’m marrying a good man.
Five minutes later, I’m standing behind a large curtain backdrop that the venue has placed to shield me from the wedding guests in the vineyard. My cue is the wedding processional that begins to play from the harpist that Lucas and I chose together. My heart cracks in my chest. Two men pull the curtains from each side, leaving me exposed to the hundreds of guests sitting in white chairs. The smell of fresh-cut grass fills my nose, and my eyes find Lucas at the end of the long runway.
It’s a gorgeous day for a wedding, with not one cloud in sight. I focus on the beauty around me as opposed to my twisting gut. The floral arrangement in my hands is heavy, but the scent permeating from the lilies is absolutely heavenly. The wedding party before me is in dark shades of burgundy, black, and silver. This day is everything I always envisioned it to be—aside from the man I’m walking down the aisle to marry.
The guests all turn toward me as I walk myself down the aisle. My father hasn’t been in my life since I was fourteen years old. Bordeaux, Miller, and Flynn all said they’d walk me, but I made it a point to tell them that I didn’t need to follow some silly tradition. I am perfectly capable of walking down the aisle on my own—of handling myself.
Although, right now, I could use their strength to keep me upright. The harp plays and Lucas smiles, and all I can feel is an overwhelming sense of dread. I fucking hate this. I hate that my brain can’t just turn all this off and be happy.
Once I’ve reached where the officiant and my soon-to-be-husband stand, I pass off my cascading floral arrangement to Isla and let my hands fall awkwardly to my sides, unsure of where to put them. I’ve somehow ignored the faces of the crowd staring at me since the curtain was pulled back to reveal all of them, but now their hot stares burning holes into my flesh. I can play in jam-packed stadiums, but here, in this scenario… it just all feels wrong. Everything inside me aches, and I know I’m making the wrong decision. I would hurt Lucas less if I would have just told him I wasn’t ready for this.
I can’t go back now.
I won’t hurt him.
