Reckless Abandon (32 page)

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Authors: Andrea Randall

Tags: #Fiction, #Literary, #Romance, #Contemporary

BOOK: Reckless Abandon
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Pause.

“Mom?”

“It’s good.” Her voice sounds tight with tears.

“Thanks for sending a card to Bo, by the way. He said it was really nice.”

“Oh? You’ve spoken with Bo?”

“I have.”

“I can hear the smile in your voice.”

“Good. Monica and Josh’s wedding is tomorrow and then they go on their honeymoon, so I shouldn’t ask for next week off, but maybe the week after?”

She tries to rein in her enthusiasm, but fails spectacularly. “Sounds great, just keep us posted.”

“I love you, Mom. Tell Dad I love him, too.”

“I love you too, Baby Blue.”

 

Chapter Forty

 

“You are absolutely stunning, Monica,” I whisper with tears in my eyes.

Monica spins once, crisp sunlight highlighting the lace overlaying her princess-cut dress.

“Really? Thank you. Also, thank you for helping my mom so much this week.”

“Of course. My duties, you know.” I wink and hand her a glass of champagne.

“Look at you. God, Ember, yoga and Bo Cavanaugh do a body good, huh?”

Last week, when I got home from Concord, Monica was waiting—in true Monica fashion—at my apartment. She wanted details. She got them. She asked lots of “what now” kinds of questions, questions that I don’t yet have the answers to. I hope in the next few weeks Bo and I can sort out the nuts and bolts. But, today is about my two best friends getting married.

As the music cues the opening of the chapel doors, I walk down the aisle, tearing up at Josh’s expectant smile. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Bo, sitting in the front row next to Monica’s mom, beaming at me the way Josh is looking past my shoulder to Monica. I give him a wink and blush the rest of the walk toward the altar.

This is the good stuff.

 

* * *

 

Bo

 

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. Joshua, you may kiss your bride.” Josh’s father concludes the ceremony amongst the hoots and hollers of the small beachside chapel. I’m sure it’s freezing outside, but the atmosphere in here is absolutely perfect.

The procession begins, and after Josh and Monica breeze by in a flurry of applause, Ember steps down the aisle. The champagne-colored dress sets her auburn hair on fire. And her smile? I’ll take complete credit for that full smile cast in my direction. She’s responsible for mine, too.

A half-hour later, I’m waiting anxiously inside the Inn for the wedding party to arrive. Thank God they didn’t request a zillion pictures from the photographer—I want to dance with the love of my life. When the wedding party and Mr. and Mrs. Dixon are announced, and they have their dance, Ember joins me at my table for dinner.

“You are drop-dead gorgeous in that dress, November,” I whisper into her ear as she sips her wine. Her ear turns pink as she blushes.

“Thank you.” She tries to be polite at a table that holds her boss and some co-workers, including David Bryson. David just looks at me and winks. “I’ve got to get up there for my toast. Be back in a few.”

Always the picture of grace under pressure, she looks unflappable as she heads to the mic. Tiny white twinkle lights illuminate her flawless face. She licks her lips before she starts speaking, and I think back to the first time we sang together. She licked her lips then, too, and it drove me mad.

As she toasts her best friends, I remember the first ten beautiful days we spent together. We did everything backwards—fell in love first, and learned about each other after. But, it allowed us to fall in love all over again. Who am I kidding? I never fell out of love with her. Those several weeks when she was working at my office were the worst in my life. She didn’t want me. Worst of all, she wanted someone else. Every single day, my love for her grew stronger, until it exploded in anger and frustration after the Coldplay concert. That whole night was a fucking disaster—by all accounts neither one of us should have spoken to the other after that. But we did. Because we have each other. Deep in our souls, we have each other.

“So, Josh and Mon, Mr. and Mrs. Dixon, my toast to you is that you spend a thousand lifetimes in your perfect love song. To Josh and Monica.” She raises her glass and looks between me and Josh and Monica as we all toast the newlyweds.

Finally, we get to dance. The first song is upbeat, designed to get everyone on the dance floor. Josh, Monica, Ember, and I all dance and laugh together, bumping hips and jumping around like idiots. Happy idiots.

“So, Bo,” Josh says as we hit up the bar, “what do you have planned for Ember’s birthday?”

“When is it?” I ask, taking my beer from the bartender.

He raises his eyebrows. “She didn’t tell you?”

“Uh, no. When is it? I don’t want to screw it up.”

“Tomorrow, you rat’s ass. Her birthday is November fourteenth.”

Shit.

“Thanks for the heads up, Bro.”

“Ha,” he chuckles, “it’s the least I can do.

A few minutes later, a slow song comes on, and Josh and I find our ladies on the dance floor.

“Dance with me?” I ask, extending my hand.

“Always.” She smiles.

Her lavender scent radiates off her skin. I bury my nose in her hair and take a deep breath. “You always smell amazing, you know that?”

“Stop making me blush. I don’t blush,” she teases. “I want to talk to you about something.”

“OK, shoot.”

“The week after the happy couple gets back from their honeymoon, I’m taking two weeks to go visit my parents in San Diego. Would it be crazy of me to ask you to come? I want you to come. I haven’t seen my parents in a few months, but I haven’t really seen you in a few months either, if you think about it. Come with me to San Diego.” She laughs at herself for rambling. I love when she rambles.

“Of course I’ll go with you to San Diego.” It’s a no-brainer. I don’t want to leave this woman for a second. This past week was brutal.

“Really?” Her face lights up. I love when I’m responsible for that.

“Really. It’ll be my birthday present to you.”

Her jaw drops. “How do you know when my birthday is?”

I look over my shoulder to Josh and Mon, who are grinning at us. Ember and I say, “Josh” at the same time and fall into a fit of laughter.

Deep in our souls, we have each other.

 

* * *

 

Ember

 

“Crap, she’s doing the bouquet toss, come with me.” I take Bo’s hand and lead him out of the reception room, Monica shaking her head sarcastically as I run by her.

“What was that about?” Bo laughs as we run into the cold November air.

“Long story. So, you’re sure you can come to San Diego with me? Or, that you want to?” I rub my hands over my arms for warmth. In a chivalrous moment, Bo takes off his black suit coat and wraps it around my shoulders.

“Of course I want to. I want to get to know your parents.” He hugs me close and I breathe in his scent.

“I want you to know them. And I want them to know you.”

Bo’s voice sounds a little further away. “My parents would have loved you.”

“Yeah?” I untuck my head from beneath his chin and meet his glistening eyes. “What were they like, Bo?”

Bo drapes his hand over the back of my head and nudges it back to his chest before continuing.

“My dad was...stern with me. He loved me a lot, and I loved him. He wanted the best for me and wanted me to be the best at everything. Rae was the one who melted his heart.” A smile overcomes his voice. “I really hope to be like him someday.”

“And your mom?”

Bo takes a deep breath, and for a second I think he won’t say anything. “Man, did my dad love her. Fiercely. She was quiet, but strong. She would come in my room at night in high school, after she knew I should have been asleep, and tell me to put the books down. She would turn off my light and pull the covers over me after I climbed into bed. She smelled like vanilla ...” Bo trails off and looks into the distance.

“I think I would have really loved them, too.” I say into his shoulder.

I don’t know the moment it happened, but here we are, out in the cold holding onto each other, swaying to music decades in the making between us. Music no one else can hear.

 

Chapter Forty-One

 

“Here it is. Blue Seed Studios. Are you ready for this?” I say with a deep breath as Bo wraps his arm around my shoulders.

We’ve been in San Diego for a little more than a week, and have spent a lot of time with my parents and plenty of time alone. Despite their offer to have us stay with them and Willow’s family, we opted for our own oceanfront condo. Waking up on the warm ocean everyday is something a girl could get used to. The constant sun’s not bad, either.

“Let’s go, Chicken.” He holds the door open.

The smell of incense sends us back about forty years as we wander down the long hall toward the single studio. A larger stage and bar-looking area sits in the center of the building, with small practice rooms along either side of the hallway. In the back, we reach the studio, where all six original band members are jamming.

“November Blue! Good Lord, Raven and Ashby, you didn’t tell me you grew a super model!” Solstice, Willow’s mom, races to me and hugs me with might. “And, this must be Bo Cavanaugh. Nice to meet you, I’m Solstice Shaw.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. This is a great studio you’ve got here.” Bo smiles as he looks around.

“Oh please,” my dad interjects teasingly, “we know you’ve got a state-of-the-art set up in Concord. We’re just waiting for the invite.”

“Dad!” I shout, mortified.

“It’s OK, Ember, your dad and I talked about it last night. I’d love to fly them out to record in the studio.” Oh, so he and my dad were chatting when I wasn’t around...special.

Michael, Willow’s dad, pipes up. “Raven and Ashby tell us you two came up with a piano version of “San Diego.” Care to share it with us?”

“Oh, did they? I didn’t ...” My ears burn in embarrassment. Bo. Bo told them. I chuckle, wondering which parts of that night he included in the story. “Oh, what the hell.” San Diego is breathing fresh life into me, a life with less inhibition.

Bo walks over to the piano and pats the bench next to him. All seven sets of eyes, Willow’s included, are on us as he starts playing and I sing:

 

“The San Diego sun setting in your eyes

The taste of salt and sweet summertime ...”

 

Bo joins in at the right spot and I watch, from the corner of my eye, my parents and their best friends wiping tears from their eyes as we sing their song at the top of our lungs. When it’s over, the shocked-silence lasts a nanosecond before deafening applause takes over. A second later, we’re accosted by a pile of hippie hugs.

“November Blue! That was amazing!” My mom squeezes both Bo and I at the same time.

“Will you two consider recording some tracks with us?” Natalie, the third female in The Six, casts a sudden silence over the room.

I swallow hard. “What? Are you serious?”

“Of course they’re serious, Ember,” Willow squeals. “You two are friggin gold! What do you say?”

“Just let them think about it for a while, would you?” Michael elbows Willow, who shrugs. She winks a hazel eye at me before she drops the subject.

I look at Bo, who’s grinning like a schoolboy, biting his lip as he stares at the piano keys. He loves this as much as I do.

After sitting back on the couches for a while, listening to The Six play and record, I walk outside for some fresh air and sunshine. My mom follows closely behind me.

She rests her hand between my shoulder blades. “You’re happy, Ember.”

“Of course I am, Mom. I was just in a room with my favorite people on the planet.” I rest my head on her shoulder.

“You look amazing, too. You’ve been doing yoga again?”

“Yeah, for the last few months...since Rae died, actually.”

My mom pulls me into a hug. “Bo is absolutely wonderful. Watching him look at you reminds me of when I first met your father. He had that same look on his face.”

“He still does, Mom. Dad loves you so much it’s not even embarrassing to watch.”

“You have that, too, Honey. Hold on to it. For dear life.”

 

* * *

 

“You were quiet during dinner,” Bo grabs my hand as we walk down the beach at sunset.

“Just thinking,” I sigh.

“Anything you want to talk about?”

I find a quiet spot and sit in the sand facing the horizon.

“I think I want to leave The Hope Foundation.”

“Really?” He sounds mildly surprised.

“Yeah. I mean, I can do freelance grant writing. I could still help where Hope needed me, but I’d like to work with DROP again. To be honest, David’s been hounding me about it since I left.” I chuckle.

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