We three women are sitting on a bench in a far corner of Reed Rivers’ spacious patio, not far from the spot where Reed exchanged marriage vows with his bride, Georgina, a few hours ago. Ever since dinner ended and live music kicked off, Violet, Ally, and I have been dancing pretty much nonstop inside the house. At times, we’ve shaken our asses with our men. But mostly, we’ve let loose as a trio.
When we came out here to this bench a few minutes ago, I thought we’d throw back a quick drink and catch our breath before heading back inside to boogie again. Given the history between Caleb and Violet, I never would have thought, not in a million years, that Caleb would approach and say hello to our trio before we’d made it back inside.
I hop up to hug Caleb in greeting. We already hugged and said a quick hello earlier, right before sitting down for the ceremony, but I know it’s a big deal for him to come over here, so I want him to feel supported and encouraged.
As Caleb and I pull apart from our embrace, he smiles warmly at me, before tentatively smiling at Violet, who’s risen from the bench and is now standing next to me, her breathing shallow.
“Hi, Violet,” Caleb says softly. “You look beautiful.”
It’s a heartbreaking compliment, considering everything Caleb divulged to me when I stayed at his house six months ago. This inked mountain of a man unexpectedly poured his heart out to me during those five days, every bit as much I poured mine out to him, so I know, despite his hard outer shell, Caleb’s got a gooey-soft center—one he only shows to people who’ve earned his complete trust.
“Hello,” Violet replies softly. She steps forward like she’s going to hug him, but abruptly stops herself, which causes Caleb to wilt. But when Violet sees Caleb’s body language, she recalibrates and follows through with her initial instinct, widening her arms and giving him a warm and tender hug.
Alessandra and I exchange a look that says, Should we leave?
“We’ll let you two catch up in private,” I murmur, motioning to Alessandra to follow me.
But Violet disengages from Caleb and says, “Stay. There’s nothing Caleb and I need to say to each other in private.” She fixes her blue eyes on me, and I know from being around her so much these past six months, she’s nonverbally telling me she’ll cut a bitch—a bitch named Amy—if I take as much as a single step.
When it’s clear I’m staying put, Violet returns her attention to Caleb. “I’m so happy to see all the RCR guys decided to attend the wedding, even though you knew we’d all be here. I know it means the world to my brother that both bands could put their differences aside long enough to help him celebrate his love for Georgie.”
“My bandmates have always wanted you to be happy, in whatever form that took,” Caleb says. “They thought I was being an asshole—throwing a temper tantrum.”
“You were,” Violet says.
To my shock, Caleb nods in agreement with Violet’s comment, before saying, “My band stayed away to keep from pissing me off—as I’m sure Colin and Fish stayed away to show solidarity with Dax.”
“And with me,” Violet retorts. And it takes all my strength to keep my face neutral in response. I’m rooting for Caleb, of course. I love that man. But I can’t deny I’m proud of Violet for sticking to her guns and saying what needs to be said, without holding back.
“And later, with my son, too,” Violet adds. “Do you know Dax and I have a son?”
Caleb nods. “I’ve seen photos. He’s beautiful, not surprisingly. Jackson, right?”
“That’s right. He’s our world.”
“I’m happy for you.”
Caleb’s eyes shift, briefly, to me, and I nod my encouragement. We talked about this six months ago, after all. I told Caleb, in no uncertain terms, he’d never be able to find true love again, never be able to feel true happiness again, frankly, if he didn’t wipe the slate clean with Violet and Dax and admit his contributions to the cluster fuck and forgive.
Caleb clears his throat. “I’m happy for you both.”
Violet looks shocked. “Thank you.”
Caleb shifts his weight. “I came over here to tell you that. Also, to say I know it was wrong of me to expect my band to stand in solidarity with me, when I was the one being an asshole. I was immature and selfish. I felt stabbed in the heart, and I thought stabbing Dax in his heart in return would make me feel better. But it didn’t.” He looks at me again, gets encouragement, and returns to Violet. “Amy told me the expression, ‘When you hold a grudge, it’s like drinking poison and hoping the other guy dies.’ And I realized that’s exactly what I’d been doing, for way too long.” He swallows hard. “I’m sorry.”
Violet is visibly floored. “Thank you. It means the world to me to hear you say all that.” She looks at me. “Thank you, Amy.” When I press my lips together, wishing I could be invisible, she shifts her gaze back to Caleb. “When Dax saw that famous photo of you, Colin, Fish, and Amy, he was elated. He said he hoped it was a sign you were getting closer to burying the hatchet with him. That’s all he’s ever wanted, Caleb.”
Caleb’s Adam’s apple bobs. The man is covered in tattoos. Some of them kind of scary. He’s a towering figure, literally, and also figuratively, in music and pop culture—one of the most iconic and recognizable drummers in the history of music. But right now, he’s a vulnerable, broken man—as sweet and unsure as a schoolboy at recess who’s praying not to get picked last for a dodgeball team.
Caleb clears his throat. “Maybe you could find out if Dax is willing to talk now?”
Violet’s breathing hitches. “I’ll go get him. Don’t move.” With that, Violet sprints away, leaving Alessandra and me standing alone with Caleb.
“Good for you,” I whisper.
Caleb nods but looks down at his shoes.
“Um, Caleb, this is Alessandra Tennison,” I say, motioning to Ally.
“Hi,” Ally says, waving awkwardly.
“Hey. I love ‘Smitten.’ Congrats on your success with that.”
“Thank you. It’s been a dream come true.”
Caleb half-smiles in reply, but quickly peers past Ally and me, clearly wondering how Violet is faring with Dax. I look at Ally and make a face that says, Well, fuck if I know what we should do. And, thank God, a moment later, we’re saved by the proverbial bell, in the form of the wedding coordinator’s amplified voice inviting “all the single ladies” to come to the other side of the patio to try to catch Georgina’s bridal bouquet.
Of course, Ally and I don’t consider ourselves “single ladies,” in most contexts. We both know we’ve found our forever person. On the other hand, though, neither of us is wearing a ring, and this is the perfect chance for both of us to get the hell out of here.
“We should go,” I say tentatively to Caleb.
“Absolutely,” he says, waving us away. “Go, go!”
I lean in and whisper, “I’m proud of you.” And then, off we go, with Caleb calling to my back, “Throw an elbow if needed, O’Brien! Be ruthless!”
Laughing, I throw up my free hand as I gallop away, letting Caleb know I’ve heard his silly advice.