Feeling like the most pathetic, pussy-whipped piece of shit in the universe, I dragged my sorry ass up the drive and stopped short when I saw the delivery truck by the door.

"Hey there," the driver called. "I rang the bell, but no one was home."

"There's always someone home," I grumbled. "Hang on." I opened the front door. "Yo!"

"The fuck you yelling about?" Crusty Pete hung his head. Diggs gave me a faint, watery smile and Bash groaned.

"You bunch of drunks," I chuckled. "Get up. There's a big-ass truck in the driveway."

Bash smacked his head with his open palm. "Ah, shit, he's here already?" He lumbered to the window, looking confused at the curtains that blocked his vision before remembering to push them aside. "Well, fuck me, look at that. Why didn't he knock?"

"Says he did. You all need hearing aids, apparently."

"Rock and roll will do that you," Greg Fingers grinned. "This tinnitus is a bitch."

"Says he rang the bell."

"Well, that's his problem. The damn doorbell is the same exact tone as the ringing in my ears. I can't hear that shit. Yo!" He yanked open the door. "Whaddya got?"

The driver called something unintelligible to me, but somehow tinnitus-Greg heard it perfectly. "That's the lumber for the pergola," he said, turning to look me up at down. "You feel like banging some nails today?"

"Who's banging me?" Nails wandered into the living room scratching his belly.

"Got the wood for the pergola, Nails," Bash piped up. "Gotta get to work building it today.

"What the fuck is a pergola? No… wait," he held up his hand and grimaced, "Annie told me and it's something very important that I definitely know all about."

"I'm telling her you weren't listening," I teased.

"Boy, I will fuck up your life," he growled, and I laughed even harder.

This was good. I hadn't looked at Lily's door in the last five minutes. I was already sweaty, and at least this would give me something to do with my hands other than jack off.

"I can help," I offered.

The guys looked at me, surprised. Nails gave me that odd, fond smile again, and I couldn't help but fuck with him. "I mean, I woke up this morning feeling like I wanted to bang something today. Didn't think it'd be Nails, though."

The guys groaned. "That's just wrong." Diggs shook his head.

"I'm just wrong," I assured them.

"Okay, it's just like load-in, except we're building an altar instead of a stage. Let's do this!" Bash's enthusiasm was met with a chorus of groans and lifted middle fingers, but the guys hauled themselves to their feet all the same. "Damn, boy, you're giving Crusty Pete a run for his money this morning," Bash told me, waving his nose as we trooped out onto the deep front porch.

"It's called exercising, Bash." I grinned, following him out to the truck. "You might try it some time." I did not look over my shoulder at Lily's shut door. Okay, one little peek.

It was shut.

"The bigger the cushion, the sweeter the pushin'," Bash declared, patting his gut proudly. "And I bet I can lift more than you, anyway."

"We'll see, old man."

Greg leapt up into the open trailer and began sliding the twisted pieces of wood toward the end. The branches were polished to a high-gloss, but still retained their natural shape. They were pretty, but really fucking awkward to carry.

"Hey, grab that end, will you?" I hefted the trunk end, leaving Bash to deal with the twisted branch end.

"Jesus," he panted, hauling it onto his shoulders, "what is this thing made of, iron?"

"Don't you, like, lift stacks of amps for a living?" Nails called. "How the fuck do you think this is heavy?"

I chuckled as the six of us hauled the first load down the steeply sloped lawn toward the cliff overlooking the ocean. I could feel my muscles straining and a good, heavy burn starting in my lungs. And I wasn't thinking about Lily at all.

Except right then.

If she looked out her window right now, she would probably wonder why the hell we were carrying trees across the lawn."

And again right there.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Liliana

I twisted sideways, tugging at the drooping bodice. The sagging black fabric exactly matched my mood. "No, I don't think so."

"I think it will look lovely, once we get it fitted." The poor salesgirl sounded like she was at the end of her rope and I felt perversely guilty.

"Look," I said tiredly, letting the dress fall in a heap around my sneakers. "I really appreciate all of the personal attention today, but I don't want to waste your time anymore."

She looked relieved. "I'm sure you'll find a dress, Miss Nesbit. Thank you for shopping at Bellamy. Please give Miss Blue our sincere congratulations."

"Yup," I said, yanking my shirt back on. Two stores down, one to go. If Paloma Veldt's didn't have something on the rack that fit me, Annie was just going to have to accept a fungus-colored stepdaughter on the altar with her.

I shot my salesgirl a rueful smile and headed out into the relentless sunshine, where I was immediately swallowed up by the crowds of gorgeous, healthy, model-esque people flitting from yoga classes to juice bars. I felt like a Hobbit amongst the elves. And then I felt like a total nerd for making that comparison.

Paloma Veldt's was on the same block of storefronts that looked like they had been built only yesterday. After only a year away, my eyes had grown accustomed to New York's grit and history. Everything here was shining and brand-spanking new.

And that included the people. A limber-looking guy with a man-bun and a yoga mat tucked under his arm shot me a smile as I passed him. He looked like the kind of guy who read poetry, who donated to charities, and who liked to cuddle. The type who would make sweet, tender love to me and possibly tear up afterward. Exactly the kind of guy I always told myself I needed to find. I waited to feel something, anything, like attraction. But all I could think was that he wasn't Jax.

You're a complete disaster today, I muttered to myself as I pushed open the door to Paloma's. Dress-shopping is only going to add to your misery. I was feeling dark, bleak and just wanted to lock myself in my room and lick my wounds. Instead I let my fingers dance along the racks of gorgeous dresses as the memory came flooding back.

I stabbed the off button on the TV, my breath coming in short, staccato gasps. "No one special," he had said. I was waiting for him to say my name, but instead he dismissed me, dismissed us…

Anger launched me off the couch. I threw on yesterday's clothes in a rumpled mess and headed for the door of the studio.

Greg Fingers looked up from the paper he was reading in the front office. "Mornin', Bit," he greeted me. Thank God he was already stoned and didn't seem to care why I had been asleep in the studio.

"Have you seen Jax?" I demanded.

His eyes went unfocused for a moment and I bit my lip impatiently. "Greg, where's Jaxson?" I snapped.

He came back like he was swimming up from the depths. "Party. At Annie's room."

The Chateau. "Thanks, Greg."

"Hey, Bit, what's going on with your hair?" He seemed genuinely confused. I touched my brown mop and felt the snarls. Jaxson's fingers had made a mess of it.