Barefoot in White (Barefoot Bay Brides) (36 page)

“Damn straight. I like it.”

“You do?”

Donny choked on a puff of smoke. “I’m the last guy who’s going to say don’t follow your dreams no matter how off-the-wall they might seem to other people. I was pre-med until I dropped out and went after music for my livelihood.”

Pre-med? Donny Zatarain? He couldn’t even start to wrap his head around that. “Obviously, you’ve never regretted that decision,” Nick said.

“Only when I want to golf without becoming the laughingstock of the
Rolling Stone
editorial department.” He grinned. “Nothing wrong with pursuing your creative muse, I say.”

And speaking of muses… “Which brings me back to my earlier question, Donny. What’s the secret to your happy marriage?”

He nodded, glancing at the cigarette as it neared its last few puffs. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret.”

Nick slid his hands deeper into his pockets, his fingers closing around his keys and…other things he’d stuffed in there. “But don’t you want your daughter to experience that, too?”

Amusement glinted in Donny’s blue eyes, along with something else. Satisfaction, maybe. Hope. And a father’s love.

“Here’s the best advice I can give you, son.”

“I’ll take anything.” Anything that would help him seal this deal and make it last.

“Once a year, take her somewhere she’s never been. Once a month, do something new that melts her in the sack. Once a week, stop everything and just listen to her. Once a day, catch her doing one thing you love. Once an hour, kiss her on the mouth. And every minute of every day, be grateful that you got her.”

No surprise, it sounded like song lyrics. But it made a lot of damn sense. He tried to imagine his own father doing any of those things, and failed. But not Nick. He wouldn’t fail.

“Donny? Are you back here?” A woman’s voice floated over the night air.

“Oh, and…” Donny held the cigarette butt out. “Don’t think for one minute you’re getting anything by her.”

“Here. I have a mint.” Nick wrapped his fingers around everything in his pocket and retrieved everything in there.

When Donny looked down, even in the dim light, he saw it all. And started to chuckle. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Hell, yeah. Like right now, right here serious.”

The older man grinned. “Reminds me of a song I wrote.” He popped a mint.

“Donny? Are you smoking?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Damn it.”

“The band’s ready to play again,” Ona called from around the corner of the building.

He looked to the sky. “Sometimes, I’m so sick of singing the same effing songs. It’s my own damn do-over wedding, but all anyone wants me to do is sing.”

“Well, sir, if you don’t mind.” Nick put his hand on Donny’s shoulder and guided him toward Ona’s voice. “I have an idea. But you’d have to agree to help me, because we’re going to have to pull a few strings.”

Ona popped into sight, smiling. “Oh, I like the sound of this already.”

“Woman, you are incorrigible, and I love the holy hell out of you.” Donny reached for her and pulled her closer. “C’mere.” He kissed her square on the mouth for a good ten seconds. When he pulled away, he turned to Nick and winked. “Got that, kid?”

“Got it.”

* * *

“This has to have been the easiest wedding we’ve ever done.” Gussie looked out over the beach party with no small amount of pride.

“It’s not technically a wedding,” Willow said, smoothing the ivory silk of her gown, her very first Ona Z original. “But the ceremony was really nice.”

“You cried,” Gussie said, giving Willow a playful hip bump. “Don’t think I didn’t see you.”

“How could I not? My dad is a goof, and my mom…” She sighed, looking around for the lithe figure that floated like a ghost in gray gauze around the party. “There’s hope for her yet.”

“She sure seems genuine,” Ari agreed. “And crazy about you.”

“Well, she apparently talked to The Big Man Himself,” Gussie said. “Even Ona can’t argue with Him.”

“Do you believe her, Willow?” Ari asked. “She really has a compelling story about her near-death experience.”

“It’s hard not to buy anything that woman is selling,” Willow said with a laugh, still scouring the group for her parents. Where had they gone? “The change is amazing, and I’m willing to try anything.
Once
. I think I’ve proven that.”

Ari and Gussie shared a look, and Willow rolled her eyes. “Oh, you two. Forget it, okay? He’s not coming back.” As they opened their mouths to answer, she flattened her palms in front of both of their faces. “I don’t care if you bet the whole damn Necco Wafer factory. It’s over. He is not coming back. And I’m fine with that. I learned a lot from him. I don’t think I could have forgiven my mother if he hadn’t taught me how to…you know.”

“Love,” Ari said. “I believe the word is love.”

Willow stared straight ahead, not really seeing the crowd mill about and vaguely aware that Uncle Graham and Uncle Mike had climbed back up on the stage to play one more set.

“I believe that is the word,” she said wistfully, the statement drowned out as the first screech of a guitar note vibrated the speakers and Gussie gasped.

“I know, they’re loud.” Willow put her hand to her ears. “It’s amazing I can hear a thing.” Which only made her think of Nick—something she’d been doing non-stop for days. When would that end?

“No, look.” Gussie lifted her arm to gesture, and as Willow followed, her gaze locked on the middle of the dance floor where a small circle had formed around her mother and father.

“What are they doing?” Willow asked.

Another noisy chord, and then the low bass beat started thrumming.

“Garter throw,” Ari said. “I thought she didn’t want to do that.”

The next few notes echoed from the amps, and someone sat Ona on a chair. All three women moved closer to the circle where everyone started clapping with the familiar drum line of
Will Ya, Will Ya.

“Of course he’d want this song played,” Willow said under her breath. A song that would always and forever make her think of—

“Gotta know if it’s real, gotta know if it’s forever.”

She froze mid-step, almost afraid to look at the stage to her right. Because Dad was in front of her on one knee and…
someone
was singing.

“No foolin’ around, for worse or for bettah.”

Badly. Someone was singing very badly.

The next line faded into the crowd noise as she finally turned, almost unable to process what she was looking at.

Nick Hershey, center stage, a mic in hand, a smile on his face, his gaze riveted to her.

Ari and Gussie each squeezed one of her hands.

“Told you,” Gussie whispered.

The band hit the chorus, and the crowd screamed louder than Nick.

“Will ya, will ya be my girl?”

Dad pushed Mom’s dress up to her thighs and, oh, God,
really
? He used his teeth to pull the garter down, making Willow put her hands to her face and shake her head. The crowd exploded and so did the band when Donny stood and circled the garter like a silver satin lasso, singing the chorus at the top of his lungs.

Nick stayed center stage, singing his heart out to her. Blood pumped through her wildly, her knees weak, her heart fluttering, her brain incapable of even imagining why he was there.

Except…she knew why.

Donny gathered enough steam to rile the crowd to a frenzy, then he flung the garter over everyone’s heads to the stage, where Nick snagged it left-handed.

Another cheer exploded, and Nick gave a slow, sexy, killer smile. And launched into the next verse.

“I’m gonna kiss you every morning, and take you for a ride. We’re gonna try new things together, with you by my side.”

What
? “Those aren’t the words,” she whispered, her pulse louder than Uncle Mike’s drums.

On the dance floor, Dad howled, “Oh, yeah! A new verse!” He raised his fist in a victory punch toward Nick. And then the whole place slid into the chorus.

Will ya will ya…be my girl?

Screaming, clapping, hands in the air, it was exactly like a Z-Train concert, only the Z-man was on the dance floor with his arms around his wife, the two of them beaming at Willow like they knew something…

Will ya, will ya—

Gussie grabbed Willow’s arm, and Ari shoved her closer to the stage.

“You guys—”

Then her father was behind her and her mom, both of them pushing her closer like a tidal wave of…

Will ya, will ya—

Still singing, Nick started to the stairs, coming off the stage, holding a microphone, staring at her.

“He’s a wretched singer!” Donny yelled in her ear.

“Ya think?” Willow asked, her whole head about to explode from all of this…joy.

But Nick kept coming, his eyes smoky, his smile sly, his voice…oh, so bad. But the crowd saved him, repeating the chorus over and over and over.

Will ya, will ya…be my girl? Will ya, will ya…be my girl?

Until he stood two feet away, all tall and dark and hot and perfect. Willow couldn’t breathe or think or move, but surrounded by her best friends and her parents, she somehow stayed standing as everyone and everything but Nick faded into the background.

“I love you.” She mouthed the words, knowing he couldn’t hear, but he could read her lips.

He just smiled, nodded, and reached into his pocket with his free hand.

“You gotta sing it!” Donny hollered behind her.

The music softened, the crowd quieted, and Nick pulled out a small black box from his pocket. And then he dropped to one knee.

She couldn’t even process the perfection of this moment. And suddenly, everyone screamed the words for him.

“Will ya, will ya marry me?” Louder. “Will ya, will ya marry me?” Deafening. “Will ya, will ya marry me?” And all Willow could do was let the tears fall down her cheeks as Nick flipped open the box and a diamond sparkled in the torchlight.

“Quiet! Quiet!” Donny hushed the crowd with his raised hands. Finally, everyone was quiet, all attention on Nick.

Still on one knee, he looked up at her. “Willow, we both know we can’t rewrite history, but I love you, and I know we can make an amazing future together. I don’t want to do this halfway. I want…everything. Will ya, will ya marry me?”

Willow stood speechless as her whole body tingled with unadulterated happiness.
So this is what happy feels like.
She’d had it wrong all along.

“Say yes, honey,” her mother whispered.

“Please, before he sings again,” Donny murmured.

Willow nodded and whispered, “Yes.” The explosion of cheers was lost as Nick slipped the ring on her finger and stood to wrap his arms around her.

All around them, people sang and clapped and cried.

But all Willow could do was press her head to Nick’s chest and listen to his pounding heart. The one that belonged to her.

“You couldn’t have written a better ending,” she said to him.

“Ending? This isn’t the end.” He pulled her against him and hugged. “Our story’s just starting.”

Nick reached over her shoulder and handed the microphone to her father. “One last request, please.”

Donny gave a rueful smile and signaled to the band as he made his way to the stage. They started a slow, rhythmic beat and, as if on cue, the crowd backed away, leaving Nick and Willow in the middle of the dance floor, swaying to the haunting strains of
My Sweet Ambrosia.

She folded into his embrace, wrapped her arms around his powerful shoulders, and listened to the man she loved sing softly, sweetly, blissfully off-key.

Epilogue

“You’re not going home tonight,” Nick whispered to Willow when the last of the guests had gone and her responsibilities for the event ended.

“Sorry to break the news, but Artemisia’s been rented, so I am going home. But I’d like you to come with me.”

“Nope.”

Her jaw loosened with a soft, disdainful cough. “Don’t tell me. You want to wait for the wedding night.”

Laughing, he guided her back into the main building of the resort. “I’m not that old school.” He put his arm around her as they walked through the quiet lobby to a curved staircase that led up to the hotel rooms on the second floor.

“You got a room?” she asked as they reached the hallway.

“I had some assistance.” He stopped at the door with the number he’d been given, slipped the card key in, and slowly opened.

He was rewarded with Willow’s soft sigh of disbelief, as they stepped into a room with dozens of flickering candles and a path of roses that led to the turned-down bed, also sprinkled with flower petals.

“How did you do this, Nick?”

“I have friends. Well, you do.”

She smiled. “Ari and Gussie?”

“They love you as much as I do,” he said, taking her in his arms. With sure hands, he pushed the blond hair off her face and held her securely. “I’m so glad you said yes.”