I didn’t really bother to take a good look around. Maybe I should have.
This place is…well, it looks like an actual rock band resides here. There are guitars hanging on the walls. Some appear to be signed. And there are pictures of famous rock bands.
Don’t get me wrong. There are wedding-themed things here, lots of it in fact, but it all looks…kind of heavy-metal themed.
Okay.
I probably should have paid more attention earlier or maybe even properly registered the name of the chapel—The Love Rocks Hard Wedding Chapel.
Massive clue there, Gunner.
But I just thought it meant, you know, love rocks hard because it does. Well, with Evie, it does anyway.
“So, this place is a little…different,” I whisper to Evie.
She looks up at me, unfazed. “Hmm…you didn’t get that when we came here earlier?”
I shake my head. “I wasn’t really paying attention.”
“You’re silly.” She giggles, her eyes bright. Then, her expression drops. “Do you…not want to get married here? Because—”
“No. I do,” I quickly say. “I will marry you anywhere, Evie Taylor Soon-to-Be Gunner, literally anywhere.”
Her expression softens on me. “Good, Adam Gunner, soon-to-be my husband. But we can go somewhere else if you really want. I just thought you were okay with this place, so I was.”
“Do you want to go somewhere else?”
“No. I just want to marry you as soon as possible. And I can do that here, so I’m golden.” She gives me a smile filled with love.
And I get that tight warm feeling in my chest that I always get when she looks at me this way.
“Sorry to have kept you waiting.” A high-pitched voice comes into my ears.
I turn from Evie to see a middle-aged woman with a Suzi Quatro hairstyle dressed in…well, a leather dress. She bustles through the door behind the reception desk. “There was an incident with leather pants and baby powder, but you don’t need to hear about that.” She laughs loudly, beaming a big smile at us. “You’re Adam and Evie, right? Our six o’clock?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Evie says.
“Oh, honey, don’t call me ma’am. I’m Trixie. And it’s lovely to meet you both. Now, if you’ll follow me to our pre-wedding rock room, we’ll quickly go over the details and then move on to getting you two married.”
Pre-wedding rock room? Seriously? What the hell have I brought my girl into?
We follow Trixie into a medium-size room that’s decorated exactly the same as the reception area with a small table in the middle and fours chairs around it. “November Rain” by Guns N’ Roses is playing quietly in the background.
For fuck’s sake.
I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. I have nothing against rock music. I actually like some old rock songs. I just didn’t envision marrying Evie to the sounds of a Slash guitar solo.
I sit down beside Evie, and Trixie takes a seat opposite us.
“So, I just need a few things from you.” Trixie opens a folder up. “You’ve gone for the basic package, correct?”
“That’s right,” Evie answers.
I wanted the most expensive package, only the best for my girl—well, under the circumstances. But Evie said we didn’t need the singing-and-dancing package, which literally did include singing and dancing, courtesy of an impersonator of our choice—well, a choice from the small list of impersonators they had.
I wish we had gone for that package now. It might have given me an idea as to the style of this place.
Trixie is flicking through the papers. “And Porsha had you sign all the necessary forms. You’ve already paid for your marriage license.”
I’m guessing Porsha was the woman who took our booking this morning.
“And your bouquet has pink and white flowers, correct?” Trixie checks with Evie.
“Yes,” Evie answers with a smile.
She looks at me with that smile still on her face, and my chest grows warm. Her smile gets me every single time.
She curls her hand around my arm, and I rest my hand over hers.
“My husband, Ike”—God, I hope she doesn’t mean Turner—“will perform your ceremony. He’s a minister,” she says proudly.
I’m going to reserve the right to pass judgment on Ike—possibly Turner—until I’ve met the guy.
“Now, you kids are going to need a song to walk down the aisle to. Do you have a song already in mind? Bear in mind, we don’t have all that hip-hop or R and B rap music you kids are all listening to at the moment. Then again, I guess you figured that out when you booked the place.”
I wish I had, Trixie. I really wish I had.
This will teach me to pay attention next time, not that I plan on getting married again. Evie is the only one for me.
“But if you kids do have a special song, I can see what I can do.”
“Oh my God. We don’t have a song,” Evie blurts out, suddenly sounding panicked.
I look at her, and her eyes are already on me, filled with worry.
“Hey…it’s fine.” I rub her hand, not really seeing the reason to stress. “It’s okay. We’ll just pick one.”
“But don’t you think that it might be a bad omen that we don’t have a song? I mean, all couples have songs.” Evie’s voice is getting higher and higher.
I’m seeing the reason for her worry now.
“Evie, it’s fine. Not all couples have a song.” I squeeze her hand. “And, no, I don’t think it’s a bad omen.”
“He’s right. Lots of couples who come in here to get married don’t have a song. That’s why we have a book of songs, so couples can pick one out together,” Trixie says, pulling Evie’s attention to her. “I’ll just grab the song list for you.”
“That’ll be great. Thanks.” I smile gratefully at Trixie as she gets up and retrieves a small binder from the shelf on the wall.
I can tell the no-song thing is really bothering Evie. So, I take hold of her chin, bringing her eyes to mine. “Evie, you don’t need to worry about this song thing. I’m not. We’ll pick a song together, and whatever song we choose, that will be ours. It will be the one we get married to, and nothing is more important than that, right?”
“Right.” She smiles.
Her expression relaxes just as Trixie puts the folder on the table in front of us.
“Okay.” I open it up and start looking down the list of songs.
Hmm, not much going on here. Mostly heavy-metal bands.
I flick to the next page.
Soft-metal bands.
Okay…
“You see any you like?” I ask Evie.
Biting her lips, she shakes her head. I can see the worry creeping back into her eyes again.
I don’t want her to worry. I want her to be happy. So, we need to find a song really soon.
“How about we leave it to chance?”
She lifts a brow at me. “Chance?”
“We can pick one at random.” I scoot my chair closer to hers and take hold of her right hand with mine. I curl my fingers over hers, leaving only our index fingers pointing out.
“Close your eyes,” I say.
She hesitates for a moment and then does as I asked.
“Okay.” I press our fingers to the top of the list of the soft-rock page. I figure that’s better than heavy metal. Then, I shut my eyes. “You ready?” I ask her.
“Ready for what?”
“We’re gonna move our fingers down this list. You’re going to say stop when you’re ready. And whichever song we land on, we’re getting married to it, and that will be our song.”
“Okay.” She blows out a breath.
“On the count of three, we start moving. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“One. Two. Three.” I start moving our joined fingers down the list, waiting for Evie to say stop.
It feels like we’ve been going forever, and I’m starting to worry that we’re going to run o
ff the page when Evie says, “Stop.”
I stop our fingers and open my eyes. Evie’s are already open, and she’s giggling.
I glance down at the song to see what we’ve picked.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“‘Livin’ on a Prayer?’ You have ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’ as a wedding song?” I flick a look of disbelief to Trixie.
She gives me a confused one back. “Of course. ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’ rocks. It’s one of the best love songs Bon Jovi ever wrote.”
Love song? I wouldn’t exactly call two people struggling to make ends meet a love song, but whatever.
I turn to Evie. “We can pick again.”
She brings her eyes to mine. There’s mirth and happiness in them. “No way.” She laughs. “That defeats the purpose of leaving it to chance. We picked it. So, ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’ is the song we’re getting married to.”
I stare at her face, trying to determine if she’s actually being serious.
Yep, she looks pretty damn sure about it.
“‘Livin’ on a Prayer,’ it is,” I sigh.
“Excellent choice.” Trixie gleefully claps her hands together.
“I kind of like it,” Evie says to me. “It’s a cool song, and it’s different for a wedding song.”
“It’s definitely different.” I give her a look.
She shakes her head at me, her lips twitching. “I bet there aren’t many people who can say they got married to ‘Livin’ on a Prayer.’”
“There’s a reason for that, babe.”
She laughs again, louder this time, the sound filling the room. “Yeah, you’re probably right. But I don’t care. It’s ours, and we finally have our song.”
She looks so happy in this moment, and that makes me happy.
“Gosh, you kids are so cute together,” Trixie says, beaming at us. “Okay,” she says, looking back down at her papers. “The last thing we need to sort out before you two can get married is the matter of witnesses. I’m taking it you don’t have any with you?”
“No,” I answer.
“Well, you need two. I can be one for you and our impersonator, Nigel, can be the other. He’s actually a Jon Bon Jovi impersonator. He also does Axl Rose, Bret Michaels, and Billy Idol, too. But as you’ve picked a Bon Jovi song to get married to, it’d be awfully nice to have him dressed as Jon Bon Jovi for the ceremony.”
“Um, yeah. Awfully nice,” I deadpan.
Evie digs her fingers in my am. I flash her an innocent smile.
“And we won’t charge you extra for him to dress up as Jon Bon Jovi, as he’s already in costume from the wedding we just did, and you two are just the sweetest. You look so much in love. Reminds me of my Ike and me.”
“That’s really kind of you,” Evie says to her.
“I guess it was fate—you choosing a Bon Jovi song and him still being in costume and all.” Trixie smiles wide.
“Yep, total fate,” I say.
That earns me a pinch, a really hard pinch, on my arm from Evie. I flash her a look this time ’cause that fucker hurt.
“Well, I’ll just go tell Nigel that he’s needed, and I’ll make sure that Ike is all set up and ready for you.” Trixie gets up from her seat. “Be back in a few ticks.”
“You’re being a butthead,” Evie whispers as soon as the door is shut.
“Did you just seriously call me a butthead?” I laugh. “And I’m not being a butthead, babe.”
“You are. You’re being sarcastic and, quite frankly, snobby. I know this place is a little different, but we chose it. And Trixie is being really kind to us. So, stop being an ass, and just be nice.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” I give her puppy-dog eyes. “I’m being an ass and a butthead and a snob. And I really fucking hate snobs. Forgive me, babe.” I brush my fingers over her cheek.
She lets out a soft sigh. “There’s nothing to forgive.” She leans close and gently kisses me.
“Right, kids, we’re ready for you!” The sound of Trixie’s clapping hands startles us both.
I glance from Trixie and back to Evie, my lips lifting into a smile. “You ready to get married?”
Her eyes shine with happiness, and it makes my heart feel like it’s going to explode.
“More than ready.”
I take her hand in mine, helping her to her feet, and then we follow Trixie to the chapel.
I thought I’d be nervous, walking to the chapel to get married, but I don’t feel nervous at all.
I just feel ready and happy, the happiest I’ve ever felt.
“Okay, so, Adam, you come up to the altar with me.” Trixie comes to a stop by a set of red double doors. “Evie, you wait here. When the music starts playing, you come through the door and make your way up the aisle as fast or as slow as you like. Okay?”
“Okay,” we both answer at the same time.
Trixie hands Evie her bouquet.
“See you at the altar, babe.” I wink at Evie.
I follow Trixie up the aisle to where our minister, Ike, is.
Apart from sporting a mullet and leather wristbands, Ike looks fairly normal—he’s wearing a black suit and tie. To be honest I was half-expecting him to be wearing leather pants and no shirt.
Ike introduces himself and then gives me a quick rundown on the proceedings. Then, I’m introduced to our other witness, Nigel, the Jon Bon Jovi impersonator. And he looks nothing like Jon Bon Jovi.
I’ve got to say that I never thought I’d be getting married with a Jon Bon Jovi impersonator standing beside me. But, honestly, I don’t care. All I care about is that Evie’s here, and she’s about to become mine for real.
“Ready?” Trixie ask me.
I press my hand to the ring box in my pocket. Then, I give her a nod.
She lifts a remote in her hand, and the humming sounds of the intro to “Livin’ on a Prayer” begins.
Evie appears and begins walking up the aisle.
She has never looked more beautiful to me. Seeing her like this, walking toward me, about to become my wife, literally takes my breath away. I know it sounds cliché, but I don’t care.
Her eyes meet mine, and she smiles.
And the world narrows down to the beautiful girl coming toward me. For some crazy reason, she sees something in me. She loves me and wants me forever.
And, God, do I want her.
I’ve never wanted anything more. And I know as long as I have Evie, my life will be as perfect as she is.
Adam kept everything, everything that was me…that was us.
Now, he’s caught me in here, like I’m some sneaky person, and he’s stormed off, angry. I feel like I’ve intruded in on his private thoughts, a secret I was never meant to see.
I only came in here because nostalgia pulled me here. I just wanted to remember for a while.
Then, I opened the door and saw everything. So many of my sketches that I gave to him are framed and hanging on the wall, including the first one I ever drew of him, which is hanging in the center.
My easel is set up by the window, like it never left. My sketchpad that I left behind is on the table. Beside it are unfinished sketches. My pencils, the ones he bought me, are in their holder.
Our wedding rings are on the dresser. Our wedding picture is in the frame that Max bought us as a gift. The pendant I bought Adam for his birthday is hanging over the corner of the frame.
And my wedding dress has been hanging in the closet, the only thing in there.
The room is filled with him and me, our past, and I need to know what this means.
Why did he keep these things? Why does he still have them after all these years? And why keep them in this room of all places? In his old bedroom where so many of our memories were made?
I have to talk to him.
I put my wedding dress back where I found it and leave the room.
His bedroom door is open, but he’s not in there.
I head down the stairs. Turning into the livi
ng room, I see him standing at the glass doors, his back to me, as he is staring out at the twilight sky.
“Adam…”
His whole body stiffens at the sound of my voice. On quiet feet, I move across the wood floor toward him.
When I reach him, I stop just a step away. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t prying, I swear. I only went in there because…memories, you know. I just wanted to remember the good times. I had no idea…all those things…our things…were in there.”
I tentatively lift my hand. Carefully, I touch his back with the tips of my fingers. “You kept…everything. Why?”
He spins around. Grabbing my wrist, he yanks me to him, so my chest slams into his, forcing the air out of me. He stares down at me, a mixture of hurt and anger and frustration in his eyes. “I don’t want to talk. I just…” He squeezes his eyes shut. Then, they flash back open, and without another word, he slams his lips down on mine.
Even though kissing him is probably the wrong thing to do right now, I don’t stop him. If anything, I encourage it.
Just the feel of his mouth on mine…it’s like I’m finally breathing again after being underwater for too long.
Adam’s an addiction I could never give up.
I wrap my arms around his neck, parting my lips, letting his tongue have the entry it’s seeking.
He kisses me rough, frantic. His hands are everywhere, like he can’t touch enough of me.
Spinning me around, he pushes me against the wall. “I need to be inside you.” He breathes heavily against my mouth. “I just fucking…need…you, Evie.”
His words are my undoing.
His fingers skim my thighs. He takes hold of the hem of my dress. Bunching it up in his hands, he pulls it up and over my head.
I rip his shirt off, sending buttons scattering everywhere.
That’s when things get a little crazy.
Literally tearing off my bra, he slips his fingers into the cups, curling his hands into fists around it, and rips my bra in half. He shoves it off my shoulders, and I shake it the rest of the way to the floor.
I can’t even bring myself to care that he’s just shredded my new bra, the one I bought with the matching panties, which also just lost their life to his hands.