“Wow.”
“You don’t need to explain anything. It is what it is. And I understand what she’s going through. I know what it’s like to love you and lose you. I’m just so thankful that I have you now.” I hesitated. There was so much I needed to tell him. Proud could not describe how seeing him perform tonight had made me feel. “Now that I’ve seen you on the big stage, it solidified more than ever how much you were meant to do this with your life. Not only are you so extremely talented, but people are naturally drawn to you. I don’t ever want you to give up on this because you feel guilty. You’ll never have to choose. We’ll always be here for you.”
He lifted Bea up and planted another kiss on my lips. “You’re amazing for saying that, because I know how hard my being away has been. I used to think it was the fame that I wanted, but this experience has taught me that—for me—it’s about the music. I don’t think I really want the rest of it long-term. I would never trade this experience, and if an opportunity falls at my feet, I’ll consider it. But being away from my family week after week is not okay. It’s not what I want.” He paused then cupped my face in his hands. “There is no music without you. Music is an expression of all of those things you live for…a reflection of the passion within your soul. I live for you. You’re my passion. You’re my music…you and Bea.”
“I love you so much.”
He grabbed his jacket. “Let’s get out of here.”
“What? No wild after party? What kind of rockstar are you?”
“What do you mean? I’m wild.” He winked. “I’m taking two girls back to my hotel room.”
EPILOGUE
JUSTIN
Never in a million fucking years did I expect my life to turn out like this.
I swear, if you would have asked my *-whipped fifteen-year-old self where he wanted to be in a decade, he would have probably said, “On an island somewhere with Patch.”
I guess some things never change, because that would be my exact answer today. While it would have seemed like an unattainable dream then, it was my reality now.
Watching Amelia playing with Bea down at the shoreline, I thought about the evolution of the roles she’d played in my life.
The mysterious girl with the eye patch.
The best friend.
The teenage fantasy.
The girl who stole my heart then broke it and took it with her when she ran away.
The estranged friend.
The forbidden roommate.
The girlfriend.
The mother of my babies.
She’d never been sexier than now—with my baby inside of her. At four months along, Amelia was just starting to show, mostly in her tits and ass, which was just fine by me.
I had asked her to marry me a year ago on July twenty-sixth, a few months after I got home from the tour. I was going to wait but decided that I had to propose on that day and that we’d get married exactly a year later. That date meant everything because 0726 were the final numbers on my barcode tattoo and were supposed to represent the day she left me a decade earlier. I was determined to redefine the meaning of those numbers. Now, that date—today—would always be the day she became my wife.
We didn’t want a fancy wedding, just a private ceremony with the three of us at the beach. We were hanging out by the water in the morning, and then we’d have a wedding on the beach at sunset followed by a clam bake of Amelia’s favorite—dirty snatch crabs—and lobster.
It turned out Roger next door got himself ordained to perform a ceremony for a friend of his some years back, so we were going to let him marry us. Ironically, Roger Podger had become a pretty good friend of mine, even though I continued to bust his balls regularly.
A flock of seagulls dispersed as Bea came running toward me. Her dress was soaked as she handed me a seashell. “Daddy! Blue!”
“What do you have for me, Beatrice Banks?”
Amelia brushed sand off of her skirt and explained, “We’re trying to find something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue for the ceremony later. We found this blue shell.”
“That’s perfect, Bumblebee,” I said, handing it back to her as she beamed.
“We have to figure out the rest,” Amelia said as she took something out of her pocket and handed it to Bea. “We have something new, but technically it’s for you, not me. Bea, give it to Daddy.”
My daughter handed me a tiny box. It had a guitar pick inside with the inscription, Thank you for picking me.
Squeezing her, I whispered in her ear, “Thank you for picking me, sweetie. I love this so much.”