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“I like that idea.”
“I could also get ‘property of Van’ tattooed on my ass,” Brodie quipped.
“Good. I was already planning on a ‘property of Brodie’ on mine.”
With our rings in hand, we headed directly to the chapel. Tattoos would have to wait.
Brodie and I quietly walked in, with no press or interested fans in sight, and got married. Regan and Dawson were our witnesses.
The wedding was perfect for us. We’d always connected to each other in a special way, and our wedding was no different.
After Brodie stated his vows, he sang to me. Low and soft, he crooned the words I’d penned about him, and I could hear his love for me in every note.
I tried to hold back my tears, but it was useless. Even Regan and Dawson looked choked up.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat and pronounced my vows in turn.
When the officiant announced us husbands, I took Brodie in my arms, and sealed the deal.
Then we wasted no time in group texting photos of our nuptials to his family, the band, and all our friends.
Our phones didn’t stop ringing for an entire day.
And, of course, the press got wind of our wedding within a few hours.
But that was fine. We’d had our moment.
I knew I would always have to share a part of Brodie with the rest of the world. And that was okay.
The most important part, his heart, belonged to me.
BRODIE
Rockstar Brodie James marries former manager Ivan Cross in surprise Vegas wedding!
I read the headline on my phone as I sat on a lounger by the pool, the sun warming my skin.
My husband (holy fucking shit, my husband!) was lying beside me, giving me that decadent smile that made my stomach flutter.
After our wedding, Van and I flew down to the U.S. Virgin Islands for our honeymoon.
The lead singer of a band Van used to manage owned a house on St. Thomas, and he was only too happy to let us use it. It was located high on a hill overlooking stunning Magens Bay. We had our own private pool and no neighbors for miles.
Well, sort of.
We didn’t realize when we arrived that another famous musical couple hadn’t vacated the house yet. Van was so excited to start our honeymoon that as soon as we entered the home, he manhandled me and fucked me over the kitchen island.
It was the hottest thing ever. I know, I know, I say that about everything when it comes to Van, but it’s true.
My husband was so intent on railing me, and I was so far gone getting railed that we didn’t notice the two men on the other side of the patio doors.
Well, I noticed, but I was already naked by then and too turned on to do anything but grunt Van’s name.
Afterwards, all four of us shared ice-cold beers on the patio. Just shooting the shit.
I told you, musicians are used to that kind of thing…
Van confided to me afterward that being watched was something he didn’t expect to enjoy but did. But he was never going to share me.
