Blake steps up to his mic and joins in playing the lead guitar part to Guns N’ Roses’s “Sweet Child of Mine”.
The teenagers crowded around the stage probably have no idea who GNR is or that Axelle was named after the lead singer. Only a small group of people around know the meaning behind the song. And something tells me that only Blake knows his intention for playing this song to her tonight of all nights.
Blake and Rex harmonize, dropping key and growling out the lyrics much deeper than Axl Rose was capable of singing. My heart hammers behind my ribs. I lean left, right, but can’t see Axelle. I have to know what she’s thinking. I need to see her face.
I make my way from the poolside table to the stage and smile at the shouted encouragement of my friends left at the table.
Rounding the crowd of kids and the few adults, I find Axelle up front. Dead center. My breath catches in my throat, and I curl my lips between my teeth to keep from sobbing. Her head is tilted back, her eyes shining and fixed on Blake as he belts the words directly to her. She sways to the music. Killian is at her side, watching her face just as intently as I am.
The song breaks for the infamous guitar solo. I can’t take my eyes off Blake as his fingers dance across the guitar strings. His head’s down, strong legs open slightly and bent at the knees. He bites his lip in concentration as the guitar solo that puts Slash to shame ignites the crowd’s applause.
My own personal rock star.
I drag my eyes away and catch Rex watching Blake. He’s shaking his head, no doubt blown away once again by the natural gift that his friend possesses. It’s amazing, and a shame that he kept it hidden as long as he had.
Looking back and forth between the stage and Axelle, I watch, captivated, until the song slows and comes to an end. Everyone erupts in applause, and Rex says something to Blake, the excitement on his face obvious.
“Happy seventeenth birthday, kiddo,” Blake says into the mic. “That was part one of my gift to you.” He pulls an envelope out of his back pocket. “Here’s part two.”
“What?” I advance toward the stage, curious. He said he was going to play her a song—he didn’t say anything about an envelope. Is it money?
She reaches up and takes the gift from his hand. I swing my gaze from Blake’s nervous face to Axelle’s curious one as she opens a letter. Her eyes scan whatever’s written there, and her lip starts to quiver. Oh, God. Is it bad? What did he give her?
I push my way to her just as she covers her mouth with her hand.
“Axelle, what is it?” I say, and try to read the paper over her shoulder.
As if I’m not even there, she crushes the paper to her chest, shaking her head and gazing up at Blake.
He squats down to meet her eyes. “What do you think? Will you allow me the honor of being your dad?”
Oh my God!
She whimpers and takes a long deep breath, pulling her hand from her mouth. “But… I’ll be eighteen in a year. It’d only be for one year, and…” She tilts her head, squinting. “Are you sure?”
“Doesn’t matter to me if you’re seventeen or seventy-seven. If I could hand pick a daughter, I’d pick you. Every time.” He climbs down and pulls her into his arms, and she lets go of her tears. “I love you, Axelle Rose. We have a pretty kick-ass opportunity here. We get to choose who we claim as family. I choose your mom, and you. It’s your life, and I’ll be here for you no matter what you decide. It’s your choice.”
He must hear my crying, because he looks over and holds out his arm. I rush into his embrace, wrapping my arms around the two people I love most in the world, and thanking God for every single thing, all the bad and the mistakes, everything that brought me to where I am.
Axelle nods into his chest. “Yes, Blake. I say yes.” Her arms go tight around his waist. “I choose you.”
Blake
Safe to say that this night couldn’t get any better. Ataxia has been playing for the last hour, and the kids have been dancing and singing along. Axelle hasn’t stopped smiling once since I sang for her. I know because I’ve been checking. My daughter. I have a daughter. The thought pulls my lips into a grin I can’t tame.
“Baby, we are not naming our kid Eugene.” Jonah’s been playfully arguing with his wife over baby names.
“We have to at least consider it. It’s Guy’s middle name,” Raven says, and shoves a fist full of corn chips in her mouth.
“The fuck we do.” He runs his hand over her swollen belly. “That’s my baby growing in that sexy body. If it’s a boy, we name him Ryan, after my dad.”
“Right, Ryan Eugene,” she says through a cheek full of chips.