“You heard me.” He chuckles, brushing a knuckle over my brow. “We said we’d set a date after the Grammys were behind us.”
“And you consider, oh, an hour ago ‘behind us’?” A tiny, tired smile tugs at the corners of my mouth.
“Yeah, I do.” He moves forward until our heads are on the same pillow and our foreheads press together. “When will you marry me?”
It feels like rocks are tied around my arms, but I lift and link them behind his neck, scooting close enough that the heated hardness of his body absorbs mine.
“Depends,” I say, my voice weary and husky. “You want to do it tonight, or would you prefer tomorrow?”
My eyes may be barely open, but there’s no doubt in my mind they are certain, no doubt he reads complete willingness in them. If he said to me that we should drag our tired asses out of bed right now to go get married, I’d do it. He knows that; his pleased smile tells me so.
“It doesn’t have to be tonight or tomorrow.” He leaves one last kiss at the corner of my mouth. “But it will be very soon. Just making sure you’re down for very soon.”
He reaches over to turn off the lamp.
“Okay,” he says into the darkness. “Now you can go to sleep.” With complete contentment and the promise of forever very soon, I do.
Chapter 26
Grip
IT’S OUR WEDDING DAY. Finally.
I say “finally,” but it’s only been a month since the Grammy’s. After that night, Bristol and I decided we would not even publicly confirm the engagement, but would move forward with our own plans, in our own way. Nobody’s business. We’ve invited only our innermost circle of family and friends. We didn’t hire a wedding planner or anything, just made some simple arrangements, and forced vendors and those involved to sign Bristol’s NDAs.
And now the day is here, and I’m a horny groom. Does this actually come as a surprise to anyone? Probably not, but this semi-erect state I find myself in on my wedding day was completely avoidable. Bristol—who can barely spell “tradition”—decided we shouldn’t see each other the night before the wedding, other than the rehearsal dinner. Add that to the fact that we’ve barely seen each other for the last two weeks being on different coasts and . . . horny groom. My balls are a dismal shade I like to call Bristol Blue.
I sip my coffee and take in the picturesque view of the Rocky Mountains through the hotel window. The snow-capped peaks and stretches of pristine snow are breathtaking. When Bristol suggested an Aspen wedding in honor of our snowy proposal, I wasn’t sure at first, but seeing the soaring splendor of the mountains, it seems fitting. Our journey has been uphill, and in some ways, it may always be. At times, our climb has felt as insurmountable as some of those mountains. The easiest thing about being with Bristol is being with Bristol, and she makes all the outside pressures and criticisms worth it. So, yes, being surrounded by a line of mountains suits us perfectly.
“Are you okay?” my mom asks from across the small table in the hotel suite.
Knowing Ma, I could say, No, I’m horny, and she wouldn’t bat an eyelash. She’d just tell me to eat my oatmeal and be patient because I’ll be smashing before the night is over.
“I hate oatmeal,” I say instead, flashing a quick smile.
“You always did.” She swaps my oatmeal for the pastry in front of her. “I wondered why you ordered it.”
“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t even notice.”
“You’re distracted.” Ma spears a square of French toast. “It is your wedding day. You nervous?”
“Nah.” I bite into the pastry’s flaky sweetness, chewing thought- fully. “Just ready. This has been a long time coming.”
Ma smiles, rubbing away the condensation on her glass of orange juice.
“It’s obvious you love Bristol very much.” She takes a sip, peering at me over the rim of her glass. “It’s a shame Jade couldn’t make it.”
“Couldn’t?” I scoff. “Wouldn’t is more like it. I don’t care.”
“Oh, you care.” Ma reaches over to cover my fist where it’s clenched on the table. “You just care more about your happiness than you do about Jade’s opinion, as you should. But it’s okay that it hurts, her not being here. She’ll come around eventually.”
But she hasn’t yet, and it does hurt. The last time I saw Jade, I warned her that I’d choose Bristol over her, that I wouldn’t hesitate to cut her out of my life if I had to, but I didn’t actually think it would come to that. I didn’t actually think Jade would object enough to cut herself out my life, or cut me out of hers. Either way, we haven’t spoken since that day in the studio. I sent her an invitation, but she didn’t respond. I want to text her middle finger emojis and let her know I don’t give a fuck, except Ma’s right—I do. It hurts, but today isn’t for regrets or recriminations. It’s for Bristol and me.
“You’re okay with it, though, right Ma?” I cast a searching glance at the woman who has been the guiding force of my life. “With Bristol and me, I mean. Now you’re okay?”
My mom looks back at me with deep affection in the eyes roaming my face before she answers my question with one of her own.
“How many men want to have breakfast with their mother on the morning of their wedding?” She sits back in her seat and crosses her legs.