“I now pronounce you man and wife,” Jack says.
I stare at Chrissie, the breathtaking smile on her face, and the way her eyes are shimmering for me. What I’m feeling—being married to Chrissie…finally—there are no words for it. I’ve never experienced anything like what’s rushing through my veins today.
“Are you going to kiss the bride?” Jack asks, louder and amused.
I shift my gaze to Jack. “This better be legal.” It’s a mind blower that he performed the ceremony even though it’s perfect symmetry that he did because I would have never met Chrissie if he hadn’t interfered in my life all those years ago. How the hell did he manage to become a licensed justice of the peace in under a week to marry us so there would be no outsiders here?
Jack laughs. “It’s legal once you kiss her.”
I run my thumb along Chrissie’s cheek. “I just want to stare at you for a little while. Let me.”
Her smile grows larger. “No, I want to be kissed. Kiss me fast since we’re not married until you kiss me.”
I laugh, and pull Chrissie into my arms and lower my face to hers.
Applause all around us.
I kiss her slowly. Gently. Tenderly deepening it as she melts into me, then quietly drawing back before we go across the line of loving and appropriately chaste because her kids are watching everything. And the paparazzi overhead in helicopters and the cameras tucked into drones are capturing every minute of this.
Fuck ’em. Who cares? Let them film today.
Chrissie steps back, breathless and laughing. “Holy crap. We did it, Alan.”
Everyone around us laughs and we’re quickly swallowed up in hugs and congratulations. My humor comes, fuller and richer. Shit, I’m so happy today I’m feeling fucking giddy. And my heart swells into something painful as I watched Chrissie embraced and kissed over and over again.
I don’t think anyone outside the two of us knows that Chrissie tucked behind a few silly words to make everyone laugh what it is to both of us to get here, married and still in love and together as we should be. They don’t know the moments we’ve been through together, the bad, the good, and the loving. They think it’s just light banter, one of Chrissie’s cute-cute moments, but what it is for me is in her voice and the look in her eyes as she looks at me.
Holy crap. We did it. My thoughts exactly, baby.
Everyone moves to the wedding party beneath the giant tent Jack had set up on the lawn. He pulled together an amazing party—dance floor, music, buffet tables, serving staff brought here and not told what the function would be—and by the looks of it everyone we care about is here.
Chrissie and Jack thought of everything.
At 11:30 p.m. I stare down at my wife as we dance. Fuck, the only way I can keep her with me and not have someone drag her away is to dance with her. The party is not winding down. All the guests are still here. She told me not to plan anything. Did she plan a wedding night?
I bring her closer to me, kissing her beneath the hair by her ear. “Is it time to go yet?”
She laughs. “Already?”
“I was ready to go when you said ‘I do.’ I am beyond ready to leave here now.”
She smiles, her face flushed, her eyes sparkly and impish. “Don’t look at anyone. Don’t say anything. Follow me. We need to get to the stairs on the cliff if we’ve got any hope of getting out of here.”
She takes my hand, pulling me through the crowd, and I laugh. I’m possessed by a pleasant sensation of déjà vu, a memory of Chrissie at eighteen, dragging me across the lawn at a running pace to the steps built into the cliffs.
We slip out of the tent and then she hurries me to the access to the beach.
She stops at the top step.
We’re both laughing.
I grab her against me, kissing her the way I’ve wanted to all day. When she pulls back we’re both breathless.
“What are we doing, Chrissie?”
She kisses my bicep, laughs, and then takes my hand and starts going down the narrow stairs.
At the bottom, she pauses and turns in the sand to face me. “There’s security at each end of the beach. It’s empty. I want to walk on the beach with you. Kiss you in the exact spot where you kissed me the night we first met. Then slip down to where a car’s waiting. Jack’s got the kids for a week. Your plane is at the airport on standby for us. I don’t care where you take me. Run away with me, Alan.”
* * *
My mind fills with vivid images of my honeymoon with Chrissie. Oh yes, I need a Kevin Spacey shower this morning. Fuck, I wish my wife was still here.
My phone dings again. Christ, another email from Brian. Why is he sending me this? It’s just the usual tabloid shit. Nothing new.
I toss aside my cell without checking out all the links. Who gives a fuck what anyone writes? What they’re spewing online. I wonder if this shit is part of why Kaley’s being so difficult lately. Maybe she’s getting crap at school over it. Her friends are old enough to surf the web and understand this.
It’s ridiculous what people are willing to believe and babble about. Every story. Nonsense. Is it worth trying to talk to Kaley again? She’s lived through this her entire life. Christ, she’s Neil Stanton’s daughter. Every anniversary of his death she ends up in print. She must know by now that what the tabloids write is ninety percent garbage.
Maybe Chrissie’s wrong about never commenting back on things in the press. Maybe it would all stop if we went on the record, did a late-night talk show or two or something. Maybe we feed it by freezing the press out. Maybe no comment is the same as telling them to comment how they want.
No. I used to answer everything. It never worked well.
Chrissie’s right.
Fuck it. Not commenting, Brian.
I know the truth.
Chrissie knows the truth.
We’re married.
We’re happy.
Fuck them.
Chapter 16
After my shower, I pull on some jeans and a t-shirt, and then check my phone. Ah, voice mail from Chrissie.
I hit play: “Hi, baby. I didn’t understand anything the counselor talked about. They never say anything in a way normal people can understand. The best I can figure out is they’ve been reading her social media, Facebook, website and blog. Can you believe that? I don’t even invade her privacy and read her pages. I didn’t even know she had a private website and blog, and they think it requires follow-up with a counseling professional. Wouldn’t say why. Just said do. Insulting, patronizing and infuriating. I’m on my way to the studio. Hopefully I can get some time to spy online and see what they’re freaking out about. I’ll talk to Kaley when I get home. Don’t say anything to her. Thank you for caring. Thank you for loving me and understanding I couldn’t stay and play with you this morning. Can we play later—”
Beep.
I laugh and click off the phone. Chrissie can’t say anything in the allotted recording time. She doesn’t sound concerned, more frustrated, so I was probably right that it’s nothing to worry about. And Chrissie got in enough words in sixty seconds to make me look forward to tonight.
I head into the kitchen for more coffee. The house is quiet. Didn’t expect that one. Is everyone gone? I pull things out of the refrigerator. I start cooking my own breakfast.
Lourdes comes into the kitchen.
“Señor Alan, if you wait, I will make breakfast for you,” she says flustered, shaking her head.
I smile. “It’s all right. I like cooking. Where is everyone?”
“Aarsi took Krystal and the boys to the Harrises’ for the day. Kaley, she is not home. Khloe is napping.”
A full report. Empty house.
I finish cooking my breakfast and eat it alone on the patio. I considering cutting out to join Kenny in the studio today. I yawn. I’m tired. Nope, not hanging with Kenny. I turn off the phone and stretch out on the lounger.