Chapter 61: Nice Guys Bail On the Reception

So I made a mini playlist on YouTube for the Songs mentioned at the Wedding and Reception...it's entitled Nashville. The link is attached down by the comments, but if you can't access it, PM me and I will send it to you!

Adam

Wow. Just...

Fucking wow.

Nobody can tell me God doesn't exist, because he just answered my prayers.

Gave me a miracle.

I felt it—the power of God. A force of good, gathering up my  love for Mac, and her love for me--the raw, pure energy we put into our musical vows, and the humor and light we put into our spoken ones, and the support and encouragement of every family member here, blood and chosen—I felt something greater, gathering our intentions, as if like attracts like, then transforming them, returning them, wrapping them all around us, between us, within us.

Empowering our raw love with divine will. Binding us. Forever.

We don't need a license, a state, a man to tell us we are married.

We married each other in the presence and power of Love.

At some point, I'm going to need to stop kissing my wife for the first time, in front of our "wedding guests."

Not quite yet, though. I pick her up gently, beneath her arms, raising her above me without our lips ever leaving each others. We are so deep we can't stop. My heart is pounding with a conviction I've never ever felt before, as I give her everything with my lips and my spirit that lingers on my tongue.

Mine. Hers. Ours. Forever.

Just when I think—with some regret—that I can't in good conscious take this kiss any further, she wraps her legs around my waist and her hands in my hair and devours me. Now I'm laughing through the kiss and so is she. She slides her lips from mine, peppering my face with kisses as I twirl her around and the cat-calling and cheers and jeers get rowdier than a dive bar of hometowners with Friday night paychecks.

"Oh Adam," she whispers in my ear as her kisses move there. "It's real. It's so real to me. I promise you. I meant it. You meant it, too right? I felt it...didn't you?"

I hug her tighter and she pulls back, staring into my face, looking for the confirmation. That it wasn't just a show...a performance. I nod at her solemnly. "On God, I meant it. Felt it, too. Congratulations, Ms Lawson. You're a married woman now."

Her sweet smile is beautiful but fleeting, because she goes back to planting butterfly kisses all over my face. Damn, if she's gonna be this sweet, I don't how the hell we are gonna sit through another couple of hours of this party-now-turned-wedding-reception.

I need my wife. Need to be one with her. As soon as fucking possible. I bury my face in her neck, drinking her sweet oceany, coconut scent in, taking what I can to tide me over. She groans a little as I lick and suck at the base of her neck.

My dad hears her and laughs. He slaps me on the back a little too hard. "Put her down, Son. You've got a lifetime for that, but your Mother only gets to see you married once, and you need to at least let her come and congratulate you before you...start your honeymoon."

He turns the mic back on. "Family, friends, I give you...Mr. And Mrs..." he hesitates, and I know what he's thinking. Mac isn't Mrs. Heartley, not in the legal sense. Doesn't matter, she wouldn't change her name anyway. She hears my dad's hesitation, too and she laughs devilishly...happy that she's somehow managed to marry me and still give all the traditions the finger. I wink at her as I let her slide down me, but I keep her in my arms.

My dad regroups, shrugs, and says, "I give you...Mr and Mrs. Madam."

The laugh I let out is loud, but drowned out by the cheers of the guests. I leap off the stage, and hop Mac down beside me. We sally out to meet the family making their way to the front.

My mother hugs me hard and long and wordless, all her approval in the way she tugs at my hair, pats my heart, and blinks back her tears.

"I love you, Mom." I tell her. "Thanks for teaching me how."

"It has been the honor of my life," she whispers fiercely as she wipes at her eyes. "But be a good boy and hush now. No more sweetness like that. I can't fall apart, I have a wedding reception to finish."

She hugs Mac a little more gently, and pulls herself together to rise to Mac's fierceness. "You are gonna be a troublemaker, aren't you, Daughter?"

Mac laughs at her. "I won't be the first one you've had to contend with." She starts to tick us off on her fingers. "There's Janie, and Adam, and Baylor, and Mason...and maybe  even the Rev sometimes..."

My mom swats at Mac's fingers and hugs her again. "Fine, you're right. You're in good company." She takes MacKenna by the chin. "You...worried me. For a long time. I'm not worried anymore."

Mac bursts into tears. All the women folk in my family—even the little girls—awwww at the same time and and try to hug her all once. Soon, Leed is yelling and hauling back my sisters by their waists. "Y'all get the hell off, it's my turn!!!"

Leed worms his way into the middle of all the women—which is the place he likes best anyway—and wraps his giant self around his tiny sister. "You aren't going to forget about me, are you?" he's grinning, a tiny bit of worry, mostly just jest.

"Not on your life," Mac promises him. "In fact, you are still really high on my priority list right now, Big Brother." She winks at him. "I already got you a little something to keep you warm this winter in LA, when Adam and I take time here in Nashville."

Leed rolls his eyes at her, ignoring her oh-so-obvious-to-three-of-us-meaning. He reaches over Heartley women heads to hand clap me. "Brother," he says with a grin.

"Brother," I reply. It seems impossible, after what we've been through in the band together, that the word could mean more now, but it does. Just a little.

Then Bodie is jumping on my back from behind. "Adam!!!! Surprise wedding!!! Best! Fluking! Shrap! Ever!!!! So good, brother! So good!!!" He's barreling his freight train of joy through the press of people to Mac, picking her up, knocking people aside in his excitement. That's Bodie—a bundle of the biggest best emotions. I grin, feeling the joy he's expressing racing through me.

Trace swaggers up, Kat in tow, laughing and leaking tears. She dips in front of him, jumping on my neck. "So sweet. Oh my god, Adam, I'm so happy for you guys. And Babycakes. I know you are going to be happy forever."

"Me too, Little Sister." I pat her pretty head of hair and pull her ear to my lips. "Your turn will come. Trace is never letting you go."

She just laughs and nods and wipes tears, screaming in undecipherable joy she as pounces on Mac and rips at Mac's hand to see how that ring finally looks on there. Good thing it's thick with multiple stones and pave, because it's a wedding ring now, not just an engagement ring.

Everyone is crowding around Mac, looking at that ring that's become such a familiar site to me and her. I've sort of forgotten how stunning it is, but the oohs and aaahs quickly remind me.

One person is not so impressed. Trace is left standing face-to-face with me. He's got his hands in pockets, his rock star face on.

"Shit, man."

I nod, tucking my hands beneath my armpits, pressing my lips into seriousness, returning his vibe. "Yep."

"Son of a bitch," he shakes his head. "Married."

"Yeah. Sudden. Crazy," I agree mildly.

He launches at me, capturing me in a back-thumping hug. After we separate he's grinning. "Fucking perfect. You do impulse matrimony way the hell better than me. Congrats, man. Happy for you. Really fucking mean that."

"I know," I assure him.

"Always knew this was going to happen. Always. Thought maybe you guys might go through a lot more bullshit than you actually have to get here. Mac's changed so much this summer..." he looks at her with...pride and wistfulness. Like he's giving her away, too. I realize for the first time, Trace loves her. Not like me, but maybe like Leed. Like the sister he never had.

I put a hand on his shoulder. "Nothing's gonna change, man." I'm trying to tell him...I'll always give him and Mac the space they need...in their friendship, in their partnership. The space to brainstorm, to fight like hell, to repair, to create beauty. I won't come between that. There's no need for me to protect Mac from Trace. I trust him with her, just like I trust Leed with her.

Trace shakes his head. "Everything's gonna change." His face darkens. He's thinking about the band, and our ability to take everything the label asks us to do and push through the barriers, exceed expectations with our commitment and hard work and unwavering priority. But he shakes it off. "Doesn't matter. It was gonna happen one day. Life changes. One thing that won't change...Soundcrush is a family...a very talented and dedicated family. We'll make it work."

Trace reaches through the crowd, manages to find Mac's hand. He pulls her to him a little roughly—not too rough--just forcefully enough to shift her through the bodies between them. She smacks against him, automatically pushing off his chest. "What the fuck, Trace?" she growls beneath her laughter.

"Just wanna tell you this." He lays his hands on the sides of her head and plants a chaste and brief, but dramatic, kiss right on her lips. "Love you, mean it. Always got your back."

I can't describe how that feels, hearing him say that. Feels Good. Deep. Feels like tension breaking. Knowing Trace will fight for her, too. Don't even mind the damn kiss. I knew the bastard always wanted to lay one on her, just to say he did.

She softens and cups his cheek. "Shit, I know that, Trace. Love you too."

Trace nods, looking away from her. He doesn't do feelings, really. Not with anyone but Kat. "You got the best one of us, Macaroni." He nods at me, solemnly. "You really did."

"Not really," Kat protests as Trace slides out an arm for her like he can always feel her presence, even from behind. She joins them in a group hug. "She just got the one meant for her."

He grins. "And I got the one I was made for," he assures her. He wipes the tears from her eyes gently. "Don't cry, baby. Weddings are happy."

She nods and smiles, but again she doesn't find words. I know it bothers Kat that Trace feels like Mac once did—that marriage is not something he can ever swallow again. I also know without a doubt, Kat will heal him, and he'll have his own season of growth, just like Mac has had. But like us, it might take some crazy shit to get them there.

Trace is done with making Kat sad. He releases Mac, gives me the chin tip and hauls ass toward the stage. Trace runs his hand through his messily styled hair as he hangs lazily on the mic. He doesn't have to say a word...his presence on stage is enough to get the crowd's attention.

"Yeah, so..." he grabs the mic out of the stand and struts the stage as he talks. "Mac and Adam sang about their undying love and holy commitment. That was beautiful—really nice— but I'd like to inspire them in a different way." He pauses and arches his devil brows at the crowd. "So Adam, when this little shin-dig is over...and you take your beautiful wife to bed for the very first time tonight...I hope you run that Body Like a Back Road."

Everybody laughs and Josh's band catches the vibe and strikes up Sam Hunt's Body Like A Back Road. It's a perfect song for Trace's swagger. Even though he's dedicating it to us, he's really singing it to Kat. He draws Kat up on the stage and prowls around her, touching her hips, backing her up across the stage, then tugging her to him by the belt loops of her jeans, swaying with her,singing to her, embarrassing the shrap out of her at the same time she's loving his attention. I draw Mac into my arms and do a little back roading myself. I run my hands over her curves, her belly, her butt, down around her thighs a little. She shivers a little from the promise of what's to come as she claps and cheers Trace's performance.

When he's done, Kat returns the embarrassment by forcing Trace to sing an emotional duet with her—It's Your Love by Tim McGraw and Faith Hill. Kat has a really pretty voice and hits the harmonies perfectly. Mac and I dance and laugh in awe as we watch Trace lose his Mr.Cool-As-Fuck-Swagger and give his normally restrained voice over to matching Kat's emotions, touching her face as they belt out a beautiful rendition.

"Hmmmmm..." Mac says, "Maybe the Ballard sisters could cover for me on tour during my maternity leave. Ashlynn could play the keys and Kat could do all my vocals for a few weeks in Europe. It would be mad press...Little Sister joining Soundcrush. And having Ash on tour with Leed...I see good things coming from that."

I laugh at her. "First of all, Trace would never go for that because he hates the idea of him and Kat in the press. Plus, I see disaster for Trace from that-- having his ex-wife-and-lover-sisters on top of each other like that? No way. Besides, who'd play bass?"

Mac runs her hands up my sides as we dance. "You," she says calmly. "I'd be fine here, Adam. I'll have your whole family to help with the baby. It's a real option. You guys could replace me for a few weeks in Europe."

I don't react at first—not until I realize she's serious. Then I try not to overreact. "Shorty, it's not an option. There is no way I'm leaving you with our newborn baby and hitting gigs in Europe."

She stiffens. "You don't think I can handle a baby? I mean, I know it will be hard...and scary...and tiring...but I wouldn't be the first woman whose husband wasn't there when their baby is born. Think of soldier's wives...even Ben...he's not always going to be there with Tam, if Kat travels..."

I shake my head. "I get that, but you are not a soldier's wife. You are my wife and I can't handle it—not being here with you for a reason like lost Soundcrush revenue. Missing the first few months of our child's life? Not being here to support you and help you and bond as a family? No fucking way."

Her eyes are sad and empathetic. "I get that. It would be really hard. For you. For me, too. But you and me and Babycakes...it's not the only family we have to worry about. Soundcrush is our family. And you know Adam—it's not a matter of just not making money. It's a matter of Soundcrush bleeding, if the promoters sue and our brands dump us for being unreliable. And even the label, Adam...our contract is up for renewal next spring. They could fuck with us, too..."

"All that could happen, and it won't matter. The business doesn't matter. You matter. The baby matters. The guys matter. The music matters. We'll get through it."

She bows her head, regroups, and tries a different tactic. "Okay, let's talk about the music. Right now we are poised to make our third album after the tour. It could be the difference in solidifying our place in Alt-Rock forever, or we could stumble and be just another band with a couple of good albums that ran out of steam. It's not just about the songs we put out...it's the way the label produces and promotes us. You know that."

"I do," I assure her. "I'm not worried." I'm a little bit worried. Everything Mac has said is valid. But none of it can be helped.

"Maybe you should be more worrried," she says calmly, stroking my face. "You all should be. We need to talk about this stuff."

I take her hand from my face and kiss her palm, the inside of her wrist, turn it over and kiss her knuckles.

"Not tonight. Please, Shortcake. Give me this one night, to treat you like a bride," I wink at her and dip to brush her neck with my lips as I whisper. "My blushing bride. My wife. My beautiful, wonderful wife."

She rolls her eyes, but she grins and stretches her arms out behind my neck, her gaze wondering from my face.

"Admiring your ring?" I tease.

"Fuck yeah, have you seen this thing?" she pops back. She's lit up like a kid. Her expression dulls, but then eyes flit back to me. "Adam, we have incoming. Be nice," she warns.

"What? I'm always nice," I say, but I swing her around to see whose coming at us that would make her say that. "Awww, damn," I moan as Dawes barrels through the crowd. He's been scarce this weekend, staying at the hotel even when the crew came out for stuff on the farm. Mac made me invite him to the BBQ, but I didn't expect him to attend, since we despise each other.

He stalks right up to us, holding his phone out. There are already a couple of phone shots of me sliding the ring on Mac's finger, and me kneeling in front of her, pressing a kiss into her belly. Shit, somebody in the crowd didn't think...somebody posted on their Instagram and now rumors of Madam getting married and Mac being pregnant are going viral.

"Listen, Man..." I begin, but Dawes puts a hand in my face and snatches at Mac, pulling off the flannel shirt tied around her waist. She definitely looks pregnant in her cut-offs riding low and her skin tight white tank hugging her baby bump.

To my utter fucking shock, he grabs Mac forward by the arm and stabs his finger—first at her belly and then in her face. "Motherfucking bullshit, that is what this is!" he screams, his voice raw with anger.

Awwwww, fuck no he didn't.

Rage shatters me, like my skin has exploded.

Mac moves to slap his finger away, but I grab Dawes by the collar. I twist his shirt in my hands, ignoring the shocked, choking sound he makes. "I told you, motherfucker. What I would do if you ever spoke to her again like that." I grab him underneath the arm, hauling him back and over towards the stage where Trace and Kat have finished. Like the guys can sense when Soundcrush is in the shit, Leed and Bodie converge there too.

"Adam, let him go," Mac pleads, following me, but all the heart-high energy inside me won't let me. The love and devotion I feel for Mac has turned into ferocity, the need to protect her.

Hate this guy. Always have. Never like I do in this moment, for grabbing my wife, for screaming at her, for profaning our child like that.

I could fucking kill him. I won't, but I want to, and I've never felt that way about anyone before.

I loosen my death grip on his cinched collar, only because Mac is watching and I don't want to trigger her by choking him. But I keep my grip on his shirt, and I shake the little shit around a bit. I am so fucking done with this asshole. He will never touch or speak to Mac like that again.

"He didn't mean the baby. He meant that we didn't tell him," she soothes me.

"I don't give a good goddamn what he meant. He's done." I gesture to Leed. "Did you see that shit? How he grabbed her? Screamed at her? It's not the first fucking time. He disrespects her constantly. He's lied to us so many fucking times. Christ, Trace...he betrayed you. He hurt Ash and Kat and their parents. You say all the time, Kat and Ash are your family. He hurt your family."

"That was some complicated shit. Be cool, man," Trace says warily. He's edging up, trying to get his hand on my right arm. Yeah, I know what's going to happen if I punch this piece of shit, but Trace is pissing me off.

"You be cool, Trace," I warn, "In fact, if you are cool with letting Dawes fuck with your family, whatever. But I swear to Christ he's done fucking with mine. I want him out. I'm calling a vote." I look around at Mac and the guys. Trace swears under his breath.

"Adam, you really want to do this now? We've never voted on anything this important that we didn't hash out long and hard," he reasons. What he means is, we never vote on anything that he doesn't convince us to see his way before we take the vote, but even that is not exactly true. We voted Trace down once with only minimal discussion—over the Seven Minutes song. He didn't like that shit worth a damn, but he accepted it. He better be prepared to accept this shit, too.

"Adam, let it go tonight. Let's talk about it next week," Mac encourages me.

I let Dawes go-with a hard shove, but I turn to Mac with a soft hand to her cheek. "I'm sorry. I feel like we need this done now. I need a vote."

She nods, lowering her eyes, then meeting mine. Her mouth twists, and for a second I think she's going to vote to keep the bastard that degrades and disrespects her all the time.

"I vote Dawes out, too," she says, nodding at me. The tightness in my chest fades. I should never have doubted her, not even for a second. We're married. We stand together. I trust her to have my back, just like she has mine. I won't make that mistake again.

"Are you fucking kidding me, MacKenna?" Dawes spits. "You know I've always looked out for your interests, and I've never said shit to you that you didn't need to hear. To keep you tough, to keep you hungry."

She flits her eyes at him. "I know, but I warned you, Dawes. I told you, I'd stand with Adam." She gives me the chin tip. "Always."

"And I stand against anybody who lays their dirty hands on my sister," Leed says casually. "That's three, he's out."

"You guys are making a mistake. A fucking huge one." Dawes says coolly.

"We'll if that's true, I say we make it an all-in mistake. For the record, I vote you out too, you worthless excuse for human being. I been waiting for this day for fucking years," Bodie says coldly. I flit my eyes to Bodes. It's unlike him, to spew that much hate, but Bodie's got more goodness in his heart than any of us, really. So it doesn't surprise me that Dawes rubs his conscious raw, maybe even more than it rubs mine.

Trace looks at Bodie with surprise, but he nods approval. "Yeah, you right, Bodes." His gaze swings to me. "And you've always been right, Adam. He's always been a piece of shit, and we've always known it. It's time to do what's right. For Mac, Kat, Ash, for us guys too, for our ability to sleep at night. It's unanimous. Call the label, Dawes. Tell them you are off our team. Tell them you are not welcome anywhere Soundcrush is. Tell them we are done with label-mandated management. We choose our own from now on. Tell them our new manager will be in touch."

"I make that call, then you are in breech of contract," Dawes says without any heat. He's done fighting for his job with us. He's all about representing the label now. "If you do this, you'll be hearing from our lawyers. The ones that have always represented you, you know? You'll need to find new ones. Quickly."

Trace doesn't respond to the barely veiled threat of lawsuit. He turns to Ben. "Get Dawes out of here, man. He's trespassing."

Dawes shirks Ben's hand on his shoulder and stalks away to the Gator he pulled up in. Ben strolls behind him. As I watch him go, I breathe deep, praying, pulling myself together, sealing the cracks that make me feel like the Hulk.

For God is not a God of disorder but of peace.

It's a bible verse. When I was younger my dad taught me that verse, prayer, mantra, whatever. It works for me—to calm my temper. After I say it a few times, I'm able to remember that I felt the presence of God tonight. And it was a presence of love and harmony. I wont let Dawes' disruption mar my love, my peace, my wedding night.

I feel my dad, behind me, a hand on my shoulder. "Adam."

I nod. "I know. 1 Corinthians 14:33. I'm good."

Mac is slipping into my arms, pulling them around her. "Are you?" she searches my face.

I smile easily. "Now that Dawes is gone, and my gorgeous wife doesn't seem to upset by that fact, yes, I'm absolutely okay."

She grins. "Fuck Dawes, screaming at me on my wedding day."

"Yeah," Trace agrees. "Dawes who? Business is done. Let's get back to the party."

"Okay," Leed mumbles. "Show's over. I mean, that show is over, this show must go on. And who better to lead it...than me." He looks a little hazy as he climbs awkwardly onto the stage, but Leed is a born performer, and once he claims the mic, his demeanor sharpens. He's still drunk but he's "on."

"No worries, friends," he tells the guests. " Just a little Soundcrush housekeeping. Had to give Adam a wedding gift," he winks at me.

"Appreciate that one. It was a damn good gift," I joke back.

The tense uncertain energy that had built during the Dawes exchange slowly unwinds as Leed walks and talks.

"So..." Leed pulls the mic like Trace did, but instead of swaggering, he slinks. It won't surprise me a bit if he starts to strip...he always takes his shirt off on stage. "I could sing a song for Madam, but we've sung a lot of songs for Madam. Really like that Rascal Flatts you did, Josh Jackson Band," Leed praises them and chuckles through their thanks. "So anyway, I think, I'll speak my tribute. Adam," he places his hand over his heart. "I fought you on this—on locking down my sister. Brother, for once in my life, I'm glad I lost. You make MacKenna," he looks at his sister and sighs. "You make her so beautiful it's hard to look at her too long." As if to illustrate, he looks down at the stage.

"Macaroni, I remember the day they brought you home from the hospital. A tiny, tiny squally thing. Your face was redder than your hair then. Our mother told me, you were my baby. My baby girl. They told me that over and over, until I really believed it. Funny, how that shit turned out to be true," he looks at her again and Mac lets out a sob-laugh and nods at him. "Love you, Baby Girl. So happy for you." He presses his chest, almost experimentally, looking down in confusion. "So weird, how I can be so happy and yet it hurts, too."

"It's not weird at all, Honey," my mother calls to Leed, and he laughs.

"MJ, let's get a drink after I sing," he tells her, holding up the bottle of tequila. "You might be the only person here feelin' me."

"You might be right. But Leed, I think you've had enough to drink. I'll make you some coffee," she suggests.

He looks at his bottle of tequila with two inches left. "Okay, but if you don't mind, I'm just...gonna...finish this during the song."

"Thought you weren't gonna sing," Bodie yells out.

"Pffffftttt," Leed gives him a bleary look of disgust. "You know I'm gonna sing, dude. I'm just not gonna sing a song for Madam. They are covered. Nope. I'm gonna sing a song for the One That Got Away," he nods. "All this love...it's hard to take when you...don't got the one that got away." He jerks his head up and searches the crowd, until his gaze lands on Ben. "I don't mean Tam. Love her. Course, I love her, but it's not for her. So don't get growly, Ben Sullivan. Naw, I'm talking about the One That Never Was. Never Will Be."

All of Soundcrush is still standing together. Trace looks over at Mac, "Who the hell is he talking about?"

She shrugs, Killer Face in place.

"What's the story, man?" Rawlins yells. Other people pick up Mike's plea to hear a famous Leed Lawson on-stage story. Leed grimaces and rakes his hair, like he's not sure if he's going to tell it. Josh Jackson offers Leed a straight-back chair from nowhere and Leed hesitates, but then decides. He flips the chair around, straddling it, one hand gripping the chair back, one hand the mic.

"Met this girl when I was a senior down at UGA. Bodie and I had this little run-down house. It's where Soundcrush practiced. And partied. So this girl, she showed up at the house one night. She was..." he looks up at the night sky and points. "She was a fireball. A shooting star. But just because she was upset. Knew if I could get her in my orbit, she wouldn't be bouncing all around, causing Armageddon. Thought,  if I could take her worry away... she'd just...shine. Like the sun."

Leed looks lost in his memory.

"So...tequila." He says it like it's supposed to make sense. He takes another distracted swig of tequila and winces. Like the story is over. Wow, he's really drunk.

"The girl drank tequila?" I call, trying to help him out, get him back on track. I don't know this story, but I had a strong suspicion who he was talking about, until he said tequila. Never seen Ash drink much alcohol at all, except a very occasional glass of champagne or white wine.

"She didn't," Leed points the bottle at me. "Until I taught her."

Ahhh, so it is Ash he's talking about. Must have been that night Trace got Kat a little tipsy and kept close-talking her. Mac and I had ducked out for most of the drama, but we caught the end, where Ash dragged Kat out and Trace called Ash a 'funsucker.' I think after she left, he changed it to 'nonefucker.' I didn't think that was funny, but Mac thought it was hilarious. Nonefucker became her word for the nervous-virgin-type for the rest of the year.

It's funny, really. Now Mac would claw somebody for belittling Ashlynn. Where she used to only be fierce, now Mac is a fierce friend. She's grown so much. I'm so proud of my girl.

My wife, I remind myself with a small, private grin.

"Can you imagine?" Leed is saying to the crowd. "A sorority girl who was a tequila virgin? She was sweet, man...not totally innocent, but...real sweet. Showed her  how to lick the salt, shoot the shit, suck the lime. That was some cuteness, how she was...her face when I told her to lick the salt off my hand." He laughs, then he looks at me suspiciously. "Where were you, anyway?"

"Fall semester of my freshmen year, after practice?" I asked. He nods. I scratch my beard, not sure if I should admit the truth. If we weren't at the party, Mac and I were in the cul-de-sac down the street from Leed's little dump, sexing up the back seat of my car. It's where we always ended up, at some point in the never-ending after-practice parties.

"He was with me, Leed. From the very fist practice. We were always together back then. If we weren't with you guys or in class, he was with me."

"No shit?" he says blankly. "Huh." He takes another swig of tequila. "Missed that. Good thing, too. Woulda kicked your ass, Adam."

"You woulda tried," I correct him. He gives me the chin-tip, and I return it.

"Anyway, so me and the little Fireball sorority girl, we did the shot. Just one. Then we talked a lot. We laughed a lot."

"Then what?" Bodie yells.

"Then...nothing," Leed looks up at the sky again, his hand reaching up and falling across it. "She passed me by. Couldn't hold onto her. But can't drink tequila without thinking about her, either." He turns the bottle up, draining it. "That's why I try to keep away from it, but I never can," he grins.

"You're just making this up so you can sing Tequila, aren't you?" Rawlins yells.

"Nah, man, it's a true story. But it's a great damn segway into that song, right? Let's go, Josh Jackson!" Leed's all cheerful as the song begins. He lays the microphone down on the stage, and does a handstand on the chair. Then he flips over it, bringing it up over his head, tossing it off the stage to Bodie and swooping up the mic just in time to sing the opening line.

I can still shut down a party...

"How does he do that yoga shit drunk?" I ask, as he sings.

"He's a god," Kat says. Trace pokes her, and looks all offended. "What?" she says. "You're a bad-ass, Adam's THE nicest guy, Bodie's a quirky enigma, and Leed...Leed is a god," she says it matter-of-factly, nodding firmly. Then she kisses Trace's jaw and says. "Gods make the worst boyfriends. I dated a football god, remember? He sucked. Bad-asses are much much better."

Trace's offense seems to melt, and Mac and I look away as they make out.

She turns her attention to me. "You are so much more than a nice-guy," she says softly. "You are magic...whatever I need, when I need it.My anchor. My life raft. My compass. My hot-air balloon. You keep me grounded. You save me. You show me the right direction. You let me soar."

I kiss her tenderly. "That's really sweet. And you are...my inspiration, my captivation, and my dedication."

"Ooohh, that's nice. Like that one," she snuggles into my arms.

"But, about Leed...it's okay. I'm man enough to admit your brother is a god."

She giggles. "I know, right? Ashlynn is so lucky."

"You are really ahead of yourself on that one, Shorty."

"We'll see," she says smugly, reminding me of my mom again.

Leed makes it through the whole song without flubbing a lyric, but at the end, he nearly walks off  the stage. "Okay, Big Dog, take a breather," Bodie says, pulling the mic from him and forcing him to sit on the edge of the stage. Leed pushes his shoulder against Bodie. "Your turn," he mumbles.

Bodie grins. "You right, Leed. Now I know y'all all think I can't sing, cause I never do, but I can sing. It's just...I mostly don't seek the limelight. It ain't all about me, you know? And tonight, is no different. Tonight everybody here is feelin' the love for Madam." He looks at at us, slapping his heart. "We are all celebrating you guys. Celebrating your Kick-Ass Stealth Wedding in Cowboy Boots. And I think the best way to really celebrate is for everybody to toast you, with the most appropriate song I can think of for this situation. And it's a song...about the people in low places. So, all the people that make shit happen--if you are Soundcrush crew, or Inner Circle, or if you staged this event tonight— if you cooked, if you drove the Gators, if you secured, if you worked tonight—hand your job off to somebody dressed up, grab something to toast with, and get your ass up here on the stage!"

There's a cheer, and mass movement. Bodie leads all the service people in a rousing rendition of Friends in Low Places —which is ironic and perfect, since it's about crashing a wedding, and we did the opposite—our wedding was the "crasher" at this party.

The song takes forever. Bodie has the band loop the bass between verses. Leed rallies and moves around with a second mic, interviewing people on the stage and swearing them to impromptu NDA's as a joke while really letting them all get selfies with him or in the case of our crew, giving them the chance to wish us well. They make Riley sing the second verse all by himself, and the country twang he spins is so perfect that Mac and I are falling into each other laughing.

After that, Alex thrusts a makeshift bouquet of table flowers into Mac's hand and snaps a bunch of silly "wedding pictures." On a whim, Mac tries to toss the bouquet to Kat, but Leed snatches it out of the air in front of her.

"Too young, Little Sister," Leed chastises. He gives Trace a wink and a chin-tip behind her back. Trace looks grateful, Mac looks extremely smug about the whole thing.

"You know that's just a superstition, right?" I tell her. "That definitely does not mean Leed is getting married next."

"We'll see," she says again, then her eyes grow wide, she beats urgently on my chest "Oh my god, Adam. Tell me that's not what I think it is..."

It is exactly what Mac thinks it is. The dreaded, traditional, mandatory Southern-manners receiving line.

My mother looks to be staging the torture—for all five hundred guests to personally congratulate us. She's motioning us to a table with a bottle of champagne and some left miracle white cake that has come from somewhere and herding groups of guests into a rough queue beside it. "Adam, do something!" Mac hisses. "We are going to be stuck in that line for hours!"

"Shorty..." I sigh. "It's the right thing to do, to speak to everyone..."

"Adam," Mac whispers into my ear, "What do you really want to be doing for the next two hours? Shaking five hundred sticky hands or having hot, married sex? Think about it. Sex sanctified by the Big Guy. With your wife. Who is now completely yours in every way. All those little traces of guilt I know you still harbor complete swept away in the rapture of our very first permissible and sacred sex."

"Shortcake, our sex has always been sacred, but hearing you talk about it like that... you are killin' me. Now I'm going to have to stand in that line with the world's worst hard-on," I complain.

My wife simply refuses to do the right thing. She keeps goading me. "I'll even wear those gold sandals. You get to see your wife, with my cute little baby bump, in fuck me shoes and nothing else..."

Mmmmmmmmm...that's it. I surrender.

"Fuck it," I growl, and sweep her off her feet. "Cover me," I shout to the guys and my mother spots me making away with Mac toward an empty Gator. Mac squeals in laughter as I turn my back on the woman who gave me life and quicken my pace.

"It's okay," she's watching over my shoulder. "Leed basically has her in an iron hug. There's no way she can stop us now!"

"You don't really know her yet," I warn. I plop Mac down in the Gator and we book it like hell out of there, Mac still screaming with laughter as I take the path like a Formula One racer. "Where are we going?" she squeals as I take a path unfamiliar to her.

"Short-cut to the lake." I say.

"But the sandals are at the house," she protests.

"Fuck the sandals. I just want you," I tell her. "And it's a good damn thing you bought that boat. Escaping twenty miles down the lake into a dark cove where no one can find us is the only way my mom is not hauling our asses back to that party."

"A dark cove?" Mac's voice is gentle, encouraging. She wants me to paint the scene.

"Yeah. A real private place, no one watching. We'll strip, take a swim to cool off, maybe have a little something cool to drink, then we'll dry off and snuggle down below in the v-berth...open the hatches and look out at the stars while we try out the sound system on the boat...I'll touch you, and you'll touch me back, and then we'll kiss, real slow. For a long time. Until we're both fucking desperate. Until I'm dying and you're crying. Then I'll make love to my wife for the very first time."

She leans on my shoulder. "That is the very best idea I have ever heard."

I ease up a little on the speed, put my arm around her and kiss her temple. Both our hearts are still racing, and I know they will be, until we relieve them by pressing our throbbing bodies together. Our need, our lust, our love, our destiny, is propelling us forward into the humid and hopeful night.

But tonight, I want to take it so slow and make it so right.

Thoughts on the wedding reception/Dawes disruption/ Madam's conversation about the impending troubles/Leed's story? Any or all of the above?

Are you guys ready for the Honeymoon chapter? It will be a radio edit/explicit type chapter. We haven't had one of those in SOOOOOOO long. I'm ready! How about you?!?!?!