She frowns and I cross my arms and wait for her to pummel my already fucked-up heart with blatant rejection.

“I need some time . . . to think . . . about all of this,” she says carefully. “I’ll let you know something when you get back from your honeymoon. That okay?”

Dallas’s shoulders sag slightly and his face shows his disappointment, but he doesn’t look surprised by her answer. “Of course. I understand. I want to say take your time but I’ll need to know something soon.”

She nods. “I know. I’ll have an answer as soon as possible. If that’s all, I’m going to head on home. There’s a little boy who keeps showing up for lessons, and I haven’t ever met with his parents, so I’m going to try and catch them before they drop him off. And I still need to get ready for the rehearsal dinner.”

Dallas gives her a quick one-armed hug and the next thing I know she’s breezing right out the door. Lessons?

“Guess you don’t get a goodbye,” he says evenly. “I’ll take that as a bad sign on the current climate between you two. I think it just lowered a few degrees in here.”

I don’t answer. Instead, I just sit back down on the couch and place my head in my hands. There has to be a way to help her understand why.

“She’ll come around, man,” Dallas tells me. “Enough to at least hear you out, I hope.”

I glance up at him. “And the band? You think she can really put what happened behind her and forgive me?”

“I think she can try.”

“Hope so,” I answer dejectedly. “Hey, how long do we have the space for?”

Dallas checks his phone. “About another half hour. You gonna stay and play?”

I nod. I need to work off all this amped-up energy before going to his fancy, formal sit-down dinner.

“Later, man,” he calls on his way out. “Don’t be late tonight. In fact, I’ll pick you up in about an hour or so.”

“Got it.”

Drill Sergeant Dallas may have retired but he’s still Dallas. Dude will probably make a damn good dad.

Once he’s gone I set up my kit and play until my arms ache. I’m sweaty and tired and I still have to return the truck and shower, but knowing I’ll get to see her again, even if only for a little while, even if from a distance, keeps me motivated.

I return Mr. Kyung’s truck and purchase the few groceries I need for the week, basic stuff that fits into one bag. I practically jog home knowing I need to shower again, but I stop short when I see the front door isn’t closed all the way.

I closed it when I left.

I know I did.

Locked it, too.

“Hello? Someone here?” I practically yell as I pull open the screen door. “Something I can help you with?” Like a busted fucking face. My arms are tired but they aren’t that tired.

When no one answers and I don’t hear even the slightest sounds of movement, I head into the kitchen figuring my mom came by and raided her stash before leaving again. I shift the bag of groceries to my other hand but they fall to the floor when I step into the kitchen.

My mom’s here, all right.

Unconscious on the kitchen floor.

3 | Dixie

“HE’S NOT COMING,” Dallas says as he hangs up the phone. I knew when he arrived at his rehearsal dinner without Gavin that something was wrong.

“Everything okay?” Robyn asks and I’m grateful she begs the question before I do. Every time I so much as mention Gavin’s name I get the pity look, and frankly, it’s getting old. I smooth the black knee-length dress I’m wearing and strain to hear Dallas’s answer. All I catch is “had to work,” so I’m guessing that explains Gavin’s absence. Or is a lame attempt at explaining it, anyway. Dallas didn’t sound too convinced and the line between his brows has made an appearance.

I barely made it on time myself—practically had to sprint inside after my lesson with the troubled little boy whose parents I have still yet to meet ran a little long

“The wedding coordinator is ready for y’all,” I tell them when I see the gray-haired lady motioning maniacally. “Like five minutes ago.”

“You first, Maid of Honor,” Robyn tells me with a tense smile.

The wedding isn’t huge but it’s in a huge place. A property Robyn has dreamed of getting married on since we were kids. Photographers are everywhere and OK! magazine is here doing an exposé on Dallas Walker and the love of a lifetime who led him to walk away from the fame.

Part of me wondered how my brother would be when he got home. I was expecting him to be forlorn or sullen or something. He had everything he’d ever dreamed of as far as music was concerned—well, everything except his band. But Dallas Walker the solo act decided he’d rather come home and marry his pregnant girlfriend instead of continuing on tour. The press is having a field day—proclaiming Dallas and Robyn’s relationship the stuff fairy tales are made of. Dallas says give it a week and the tabloids will be screaming that they’re done forever and Robyn is pregnant and alone.

Life sure is funny sometimes.

I can’t help it, I check my phone to see if there is anything from Gavin. I’ve been doing this for far too long and like always, there isn’t a peep.

A few of the moms of the kids I give music lessons to have messaged me back saying they don’t know the little boy I’ve been asking about and don’t recognize him from my description.

Liam is his name and every week on Tuesdays and Thursdays he arrives like clockwork at five on the dot. He doesn’t seem to enjoy learning to play piano or violin but he keeps coming, so I keep trying. I just wish I could talk to his mom or dad about his behavior and how to reach him. So far all he’s said out loud to me is his name.

“You. Come. Now,” the wedding coordinator from Heritage House hollers at me. I began a slow march down the aisle with a fake version of my bouquet. The spray on the fake flowers makes me sneeze and the woman looks at me like I’m intentionally pissing her off.

“Sorry,” I tell her as I continue my stroll to the altar. Once I’m down I see Robyn’s friend Katie and our mutual friend Cassidy coming down as well. They’re escorted by two of Dallas’s friends. I was supposed to walk with Gavin, but as per usual, he is missing and I am alone.

Once we’re in place the music begins to play. Dallas has taken his place beside the blank space where Gavin is supposed to be and I give him an encouraging grin. I’m proud of him, happy for him, and all-around ecstatic about his upcoming nuptials, but Gavin’s absence is weighing on me heavily.

Maybe he really did have to work, but it felt to me like Dallas wasn’t buying it and I’m not, either.

When Robyn’s mom begins coming down the aisle, we all giggle a little as Mrs. Lawson takes her arm looking proud as a peacock. Apparently it’s bad luck for the actual bride and groom to rehearse before the wedding, so Mrs. Lawson volunteered to stand in—bless her.

Once they arrive, the pastor reads his part of the vows, has Dallas and Mrs. Lawson repeat after him, and then pronounces them man and wife. We all make our exit to a small smattering of applause from the members of Robyn’s family that are in attendance.

I glance around to see if Gavin made it but see no sign of him. It’s a mutual gut punch of welcome relief and disappointed concern that he’s not here. Seeing him earlier in the rehearsal space was like watching the color coming back into my life. All while feeling like someone was ringing out my intestines like dishrags.

“He better not bail tomorrow, Dallas. I told you about him. You know how he—” Robyn’s sentence cuts off abruptly when I whirl around. There’s no need to ask who she’s referring to. Our perpetually troubled drummer friend who specializes in disappearing and reappearing at will.

“Missed you at rehearsal dinner,” I text to his number. “Hope everything is okay.”

We do two more walk-throughs, me with my invisible Gavin, before heading into a formal dining room for dinner.