A Love Song for Always - Piper Lawson Page 0,17

are the last hurdle to getting this deal done, we need to get their trust. Show them we have their backs.”

“Might work. But we’re leaving for an island in a day and a half. Unless…”

I cock my head.

“We invite a few. A show of good faith,” Jax says.

“Hell no.” The answer is immediate. “We’re not inviting them to our wedding, Jax.”

“They don’t have to come to the wedding. They’re not going to show at the ceremony. It’s a gesture. Invite them to the island, we spend half a day talking with them. That’s it.”

Annie comes over. “Enough business. I thought you had good news today.”

“We did, but there was a complication,” I say, searching her face. “You said a couple of rooms were left in our hotel booking. How many?”

She sends a text to the wedding planner, and a response comes immediately. “We have three.”

“We were thinking of inviting a couple of artists from Wicked.”

Annie’s mouth parts. With each second it takes her to respond, the worry in my gut expands.

“To our wedding?” Her voice is deathly quiet.

Heads turn from the front of the box as if they can sense the intensity shift, and even Jax flinches.

“To the island,” I amend. “And only if we have the space. We’d handpick people you’re comfortable with, but it would go a long way to show them we look after our own.”

My fiancée looks between us as if we’ve each grown a second head before she returns to Haley and our friends without a word.

Jax claps me on the back. “That went better than I expected.”

10

Four days until the wedding

“How many people did Beck invite?” Tyler asks as I shift out of the car.

“Knowing Beck, probably everyone.” The music emanating from our friend’s house has blood pumping through our veins as Tyler shuts the car door behind me, his smile mysterious as he threads his fingers through mine.

My heels match my silver cocktail dress, a vintage number with mesh lace detailing along the curved neck and hem that hits halfway down my thighs. Tyler looks breathtakingly handsome in a button-down open at the collar and rolled up at the sleeves over dark pants.

There’s no point knocking. It’s clearly a party from the buzz and the music. But before I can head inside, Tyler holds me back.

His gaze skims over my outfit, lingering on my legs in a way that makes my entire body tingle before coming back to my face. “What I wouldn’t give to have you to myself right now.”

“A house full of tour merch?”

He grins. “You’re funny.”

“I try.”

When I glance down at our linked hands, my skin is pale against the dark swirls of ink that cover his forearm and every inch of his hand. A little rush runs through me, the same one I feel every time.

“Hey. Where’s your rose necklace?” he asks.

I press a hand to my throat. “It didn’t really go with this dress.”

It’s a lie by omission as I think about the broken pieces. But I don’t want to say it’s broken, as if admitting means there’s something broken with us.

I’m trying not to think about agreeing to invite three Wicked artists to our wedding weekend, two of whom I realized I’d met before and one whom Tyler could vouch for. They probably won’t even come, but if they do, my fiancé promised it won’t take more than a few hours of meetings and will be concluded long before the rehearsal.

All I want to think about is the wedding, but even when Tyler and I fall into bed at night, every second he’s not worshipping me, it feels as if part of him is somewhere else.

It’s probably in my head, nerves about the wedding, and I’m trying to find justifications for them. I resolve to focus on tonight.

On the other side of the door is a wonderland. It’s a beautiful house filled with beautiful people. Beck’s friends with everyone, and the man of the hour is holding a captive audience in the cavernous kitchen.

He looks over their heads, flashing the easy grin that’s brought men and women to their knees. “You guys are here!”

Beck cuts through the crowd, and every head turns to follow him. He gives us each a one-armed hug, steering us toward the kitchen, where a bartender is hard at work.

“Don’t tell me what you want to drink. I had this made for you.” Beck gestures to a bottle of champagne, and Tyler and I exchange a look. “It was a joke! Fuck, you