Page 29 of Troubled Water
“B?”
“Yes?”
He lifts my hand to his heart. “I’m over the moon you said yes to marrying me, but the real day I said I do was the day you said you loved me. Nothing could make me love you more when you always will be everything to me.”
24
I’m singularly unsurprised when Fox asks, “How long after you proposed to your wife till you were married?”
My eyes roll in her direction. “Did you doanyresearch before you came in the door today? I mean, I do have better places to be than strapped here.”
“I couldn’t tell from your cooperative attitude.”
I bang my head on the back of the chair only to be reminded by Deere, “Sir, could you avoid moving? It will cause a problem with your readings.”
“Right.”
Fox is incredulous. “How come you’re not a sanctimonious prick when addressing him?”
“Because he’s not asking me ridiculous questions. He’s pointing out a technical problem that I’m causing.”
“So if I’d asked you a question such as, ‘Do you remember who the DJ was for your wedding?’ I wouldn’t be on the receiving end of your attitude?”
“Correct. For the record, the answer to your question is DJ Kensington.”
Deere splutters, Pamola makes a noise, and Fox follows up to confirm, “Do you meantheDJ Kensington? Worldwide sensation? Number one artist of ‘Curses on the Mend,’ that DJ Kensington?”
Cheerfully, I beam, “One and the same. Though she was just Austyn back then. A precocious fourteen.”
Fox is wheezing. She can’t even ask her next question, giving me a moment to ask Pamola, “Can I have some water while Fox stops fangirling?”
“Yes, sir.” But his own face is starstruck at the idea Bethany and I had the now infamous artist as our wedding DJ long before she was a household name.
25
TEN YEARS AGO—AGE 25
Even as I stand on the edge of the dance floor, our vows and rings having been exchanged earlier, I still can’t believe it. Parker and I are married.
Friends from all over the world flew in to join our celebration—people I haven’t seen in years, friends from college, colleagues from McCallister. I smirk as I spot some of my single girlfriends from Rice mingling with Parker’s SEAL buddies—some in dress uniforms, some in sharp suits. All looking good but none looking as fine as the man who stood in front of me not long ago promising me his heart, his soul, and his devotion from now until death do us part.
Still, it makes my heart swell to see everyone together.
People are laughing, dancing, and letting loose—just the way Parker and I wanted. No stiff, formal reception for us. This is a celebration of life and love. I can’t think of a better way to cap off the night.
“Austyn Kensington, y’all!” my best friend Lily announces with her hands cupped around her mouth as she bounces by, hyping her up like the proud Texan she is. “This girl is gonna be famous! Just you wait!”
She isn’t wrong. Austyn Kensington is a local high school freshman with a serious talent for both musical instruments and mixing tracks. When Parker and I first heard about her through her music teacher at Kensington High, we were looking for a harp player for our wedding ceremony. He not only recommended her to play for the ceremony but also advised us, “If you happen to be looking for a DJ, you couldn’t find one better than Austyn.”
“Really?” Parker said skeptically.
“Truly. Come listen.” Then he led us to the music room where Austyn had been practicing her harp. At his request, she switched over to spinning up some tunes. By the end of her impromptu audition, we were begging him to get in contact with her mother to sign her for our contract. We both knew we had to book her for our wedding. Austyn’s energy is contagious. She has this incredible way of reading the crowd that most seasoned DJs would envy.
Now, here she is, a fourteen-year-old spinning tracks that has everyone—from my construction crew to Parker’s brothers-in-arms—up and dancing. I’ve never seen so many men willing to throw down on a dance floor. Austyn whoops it up at the sight of Parker’s BUD/S buddy, Kyle, trying to teach her mother how to salsa properly. The very prim and proper Dr. Paige Kensington, who was invited to chaperone her daughter as shelit the night with music, put him in his place. He took his schooling, but the grin on his face said he didn’t care.
Parker holds me close as we sway to our first dance, the soft sound of Austyn’s harp rendition of Chris Stapleton’s “Fire Away” wrapping around us like a warm blanket. His hand firm at the small of my back, his other gently holding mine. He leans in, lips brushing against my temple.
“Happy?” he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin.
