“Hungry?” Chase asked. All the food was out. They were doing a BBQ-style dinner, and I’d planned to do a toast and all that traditional stuff, but Perry was off somewhere, and Stephen was probably doing some kind of damage control. Everyone was scattered doing their own thing. It was the most casual, clusterfucked wedding rehearsal I’d ever been to.
“Not really.”
“There’s a keg of Spotted Cow over there.”
“No, thanks.”
He grabbed one of the lanterns I hadn’t cemented down yet and took possession of my hand. Tightly. Unlike a dozen times earlier that day, I sensed he was not letting go that time.
“We’re taking that walk now, Jillian.”
“But I’m not finished.” There was light inside the tent to work with. I could try scrubbing out that beer stain on the tablecloth, and I hadn’t figured out what to do about those bug candles yet.
“No, you’re not, because we need to go to that hill over there and practice the song we’re performing tomorrow.”
“I never agreed….” Wait, I did end up giving in. Crap. But now my nerves were screwing with me so badly I knew my voice would crack and sound like shit.
“Then you can just listen to me play.”
“Okay.”
He knew me well enough to know that the only way to reach me right then was through his music. The tension was already dripping off. Listening to him play was my happy place.
As we walked hand in hand to his car to get his guitar, it hit me just how many times I’d felt guilty that day. I hadn’t been treating Chase fairly. By keeping my own mind distracted, I’d also been distancing him. Not a great amount, but even a tiny bit was more distance than he deserved.
“How do you think it went earlier?” he asked.
“You mean with the mockery ceremony?”
“Don’t you mean mock?”
“No.” I guessed it’d gone well enough, and everyone stayed somewhat in their places, but it’d be interesting to see how it all played out during the real thing. “But when it comes down to it, all of this crazy shit is perfect. Unique, just like Perry. Everything happens the way it’s supposed to, right?”
I felt another flutter, and before I could read too much into it, he pulled me into a patch of flowers. “I wanted to bring you over and show you earlier, while it was still light.” He picked a pale blue flower, holding it up to the lantern. “I didn’t notice these last time we were here. They’re not native to Wisconsin but still pop up in areas.”
I took it from him, spinning it around slowly. It was a beautiful color. “Hmm, I didn’t know you could list botany as one of your many talents.”
“Not usually, but I know this is chicory.”
“Chicory, like we drink?”
“Yep.” I was instantly transported back to New Orleans, sitting in Café du Monde with a giant cup in one hand, Chase’s hand in the other. “They remind me of your eyes,” he said.
I looked up and smiled. His eyes still reminded me of the night he’d loved me so completely. My hand glided over his smooth jaw. I couldn’t decide which I liked better—soft or rough. But I never had to decide. I could have both. Forever.
I had to tell him what I suspected. The second we got home.
His lips brushed mine. “Let’s get that guitar, Jillian.”
Shortly after, we were sitting up on the same hill we’d visited a month back. This time I couldn’t see all the flowers, but I could see stars. Between that and the lantern beside us, it threw off the ideal amount of light.
He brought his guitar out of the case, and I nestled as closely as I could beside him. He kissed the top of my head. I could still see all the commotion off in the distance, but we were far enough away to have our own private space.
“It’s not easy to find that perfect time, but this comes pretty close,” he said. His fingers rested over the neck and the strum vibrated straight to my soul. He took me away every time. “I really need you to feel this one, baby.”
“I always do, Chase.”
I closed my eyes as he started off playing “Wild Horses,” making me smile. My favorite love song. The one he’d viewed as sad until he embraced my meaning of love eternal. When the chords began changing, I shifted out of my zone a bit trying to figure it out. I didn’t recognize the tune. “What’s the name of this song?”