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I want to buy her a rock the size of a mountain and have it broadcasted from a hundred yards away that she’s taken.
I slip the ring over the plastic band. “We’re also getting married. So, sorry, guys. Phoebe Ryan is officially off the market.” As Phoebe’s mouth drops open, I add, “And all mine.”
“She’s not a side of beef, Jag.” Zane mutters beside me.
I tilt my head. “I forgot how you’re the authority on meat, Z.” The room erupts into laughter again. “As I was saying, I always knew Phoebe was the one, even from the first night she attacked me in this club.” I glance at her, hoping humor eases the shock and the backlash.
“Oh please. I was there that night. You were the attacker, dude.”
I quirk an eyebrow as Ty’s voice pipes up behind me. At least he’s speaking now. “I hear you, Ty. All right, so I was the aggressor, but can you blame me?” I face Phoebe, and the whole room vanishes.
We’re standing in almost exactly the same place we met less than four months ago. It seems like a lifetime ago but then again, it also seems like yesterday.
It blows my mind that life has changed so drastically.
Phoebe’s chin trembles. “I—”
I cut her off, needing to finish what I’ve started. “You captivated me from the first minute I saw you. I know it seemed like we wouldn’t make it, but here we are. Thank you for giving my life back to me. Thank you for making me a father, but mostly thank you for being the other half of my lost soul.”
Son of a bitch.
That’s some deep shit public honesty.
Her eyes shine as she whispers my name and shakes her head, as if in disbelief. The only sounds to be heard are the spontaneous “awws” that escape from the crowd.
Reaching up, I place my hand on the side of her face and brush my thumb across her cheek before leading her to a chair at the edge of the stage.
Back at the microphone, I grip the stand and speak with this newfound rawness. “Some things are private, so I’m not going to explain why I’m singing this song, especially since it breaks from our normal style. I’ll just say, listen to the words, princess—I love you.”
The lights dim and with rhythmic strokes, Zane’s fingers strum the chords I’ll hear forever, as he begins the first musical intro of U2’s Iris.
The title of the song speaks of our story’s beginning, but the words are to remind her of our pasts, our struggles to get where we are, and the promise she holds within her.
Life has come full circle, an ending and beginning interwoven within the lyrics of a song.
Epilogue
Phoebe
Three Months Later
The box from the bedroom weighs so much I have to stop and readjust positions, eventually letting it fall to the living room floor. Stopping in the doorway, I turn around and everything blurs as I look around the room.
The walls are empty, the echo signifying the end of an era.
My entire life is boxed up and waiting to be moved into Julian’s house. Gone is the couch on which I’d spilled countless glasses of wine laughing with Gage. Gone is the mirror in the foyer—the one providing one last look at my appearance before heading off to the Surge album release party…
Where I hoped to catapult my career with some band.
Not all the memories are good. After months of scrubbing, the hardwood flooring still harbors dark stains of spilled life.
All different kinds of memories, but still inherently me.
“Yeah, I know. I know, Helena. Look, I’ll just call when we get there. I said I know we’re on a deadline, it’s under control.” Julian rounds the corner, takes one look at my face, and his eyebrows rise with concern. “Helena, I have to go now…yes, now.” He drops his phone and wraps me in his arms.
This is the last thing he needs.
“What’s wrong?”
