Page 138 of Daisies & Devin

Richard’s last order of business,wasto find me a new manager. Someone who would focus on my music and not on thepackage the songs were wrapped in. Someone who knew business and could takecharge, someone who wouldn’t let anybody dig their greedy fingers into me andsuck me dry.

Theonly person that seemed to make sense was Kylie, and with her help, my firstalbum release as an independent artist, was a great success. She hired some newpeople at Black & Brewed and we took two months over the summer, to tourand play a total of thirty sold-out shows across the country.

Turnsout, I really could have it all … and I didn’t need to leave her to do it.

Trentgrinned up at me. “You know what’s fucking crazy?”

“What?”I asked, checking the mirror again and rolling the sleeves of my whitebutton-down up to my elbows. I nodded at my reflection, satisfied.

“Injust a little while, we’re both going to be married men,” he said, laughing andshaking his head. “I mean, fifteen years ago, I never would’ve thought we’d endup here.”

Ismiled to myself, picturing her underneath that wagon-wheel chandelier. Unableto tear my eyes away from her.

Myeyes met my cousin’s and I said, “Well, I can’t speak for you, but … I did.”

“Bullshit,”Trent laughed incredulously. “You had no fucking clue. You were afraid to talkto her, for fuck’s sake.”

Ismiled to myself, looking down at my shoes.

Ididn’t know it then, watching that douchebag try to chat her up, but thatuncomfortable feeling roiling in my gut was the knowledge that she wasit.Theone. The one that would change my life, the one who wouldneed me to change hers. It wasn’t love at first sight and it wasn’tinfatuation. It was just a deep-seated knowledge, a cosmic understanding, thatshe would become my life, and I, hers.

“Iwas afraid, because it was real, dude,” I said, quoting myself, rememberingthat first time making love in her old bedroom. “And real is terrifying.”

?

Chad,my new back-up guitarist, was playing it wrong, and from the looks on the facesof Sebastian and Ty, they knew it too.

Wehad rehearsed “Daisies & You” a thousand times, but he was strumming the Fchord when it should’ve been G. I glanced to him and shook my head as I walkeddown the aisle to the altar. He caught my signal and nodded, shifting hisfingers and I flashed him a thumbs up.

Hewas a good guy. Not as experienced as Robbie, but just as talented and I likedhim a lot.

Ipassed my parents, sitting in the front row of the old chapel in River Canyon.They sat next to a picture of my grandparents and my lower lip twitched at thesight, at the reminder that Billy couldn’t be there.

Trentand Brooke came after me. Walking in slow succession to the tune of the songI’d played so many times.

Then,Kylie’s mom. Walking alone, beaming at me with every step. The tears werealready filling her eyes and I was shot back to the only other time I’d seenher cry. The first time I met her, at her husband’s funeral, dressed in blackand standing next to his casket. Those were the tears of sorrow and defeat, andperhaps just the slightest bit of relief. But today, her smile was wide andthere was nothing sad in those tears.

Shestopped in front of me, holding her small bouquet of daisies and her head shookas she looked up into my eyes.

“Icouldn’t have picked anyone better if I tried,” she said, her voice quaveringas she touched my hand.

Iswallowed and nodded, not knowing what to say. Not knowing how to say anythingwithout releasing the tears I was holding back. The tears I was saving.

Shetook her place next to Brooke, and I waited, knowing Kylie would be coming.Knowing it was only a matter of moments before I’d finally see her for thefirst time as a bride.

Theshift in notes brought the small crowd of guests to stand. My nerves bundledtogether and combusted as I closed my eyes and with a deep breath, I picturedher, under that old wagon-wheel chandelier. I saw the long road of our journeytogether; the flirtation, the heartache, the love, the hell, and …

Iopened my eyes and there she was, dressed in a white dress embroidered indaisies and music notes. I bit my lips, blinked and swallowed at my throat, allto compose myself. All to collect my emotions, but there was nothing I could doto stop it from happening as she walked toward me, with Richard on her arm. Herwatery eyes were pinned on me—all ofthose brilliantblues—and I sniffed the tears back, but they wererelentlesss.Because she was the greatest dream come true and I couldn’t even begin tobelieve that she was mine.

Thechurch wassmalland the walk was short. She stared upat me, worrying her lower lip as the priest asked, “Who gives this woman tomarry this man?”

Thiswoman. This man. Her. Me.

Goddamnmy composure. It was crumbling with every second, with every breath, and asRichard handed her off to me, a tear worked its way over my cheek.

“Youcan’t cry,” she whispered, shaking her head in time with the trembling of herbottom lip. “If you cry, I’ll cry and that’ll be a mess.”

Speakingfor the first time since entering that chapel, I opened my mouth. “’Beauty ofwhatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitivesoul to tears,’” I recited, taking her hand in mine. I brought her knuckles tomy lips and kissed her, closing my eyes. Reminding myself that this wasn’t adream.

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