Reckless (Thoughtless, #3)(181)

Kellan and I were both in the wedding party, him as a groomsman, me as a bridesmaid. Standing next to the altar wrapped in pink flowers and twinkling lights brought tears to my eyes. Of course, that could have been the pregnancy hormones kicking in. I didn’t think so, though. It was watching Denny marry his sweetheart. It was the look on his face when he said, “I do.” It was seeing Kellan just over Denny’s shoulder, beaming at his friend. It was the trace amount of moisture in my husband’s eyes. It was remembering my vows from my own simple ceremony.

After the lengthy nuptials, long lines formed to congratulate the happy couple. Dressed in an intricately embroidered, long-sleeved, gleaming white wedding gown, I’d never seen Abby look more radiant. And I’d never seen Denny more joyful as he proudly stood by her side. When it was finally my turn to hug him, I could barely speak through my emotions. I think I told him I was happy for him as I squeezed him tight. Wiping a tear from my cheek, he told me, “I’m so glad you’re here. I love you, mate.”

That did me in, and chuckling as I started falling apart, Kellan escorted me away so I could sit down, maybe get some water in me or something. God, if I was this emotional now, I’d never make it through the next seven months.

“Keep it together, you,” Kellan murmured as he rubbed my back. This wedding was a lot fancier than ours had been, and all of the groomsmen were in full-on tuxedos. Kellan looked jaw-droppingly good. I’d spotted more than a few guests in the audience who had been watching him during the whole ceremony, ignoring the bride and groom.

Pulling out my chair, Kellan helped me sit down. He’d been doing that ever since the Grammys, like he thought I was already feeble. I let him, though. He was still reeling from my surprise announcement. I was too, but I’d had just a tiny bit longer to get used to the idea.

Each table setting had silver name tag holders with cards written in elegant calligraphy. Seeing my new name, Mrs. Kiera Kyle, spelled out made me tear up again. Anna and Griffin sat to the left of us at the table, Evan and Jenny to our right, and Matt and Rachel completed the circle by sitting across from us. The rest of the tables seemed to be filled with friends and colleagues of Denny and Abby’s.

After a five-star meal, toasts, and the bride and groom slicing the wedding cake, the D-Bags performed. It had been a really long time since I’d seen the boys perform at a venue this size. It was like being back at Pete’s. The feeling was more intimate than a concert, the sound crisp and clear; it was incredible. Kellan played with the crowd, riling them up and getting them to dance. By the end of the night, no one was sitting.

As a gift to Denny and a surprise to Abby, and also, I think, because Kellan didn’t like her song choices, he wrote them a song for their first dance. It was an amazing piece about finding someone who opened you up, about falling in love with them more and more every day, about feeling breathless when they were gone and out of breath when they were near. Like Kellan, the song was scintillating, sexy, and also exceedingly heartfelt and romantic. Even though he’d written it for Denny and Abby, I knew the inspiration for it had come from us. It made me cry again.

The newlyweds headed off at the tail end of the evening, disappearing to their suite. They were catching a flight early in the morning. They were going back home to Australia to start their honeymoon and to have a second wedding ceremony for their friends and family there. I thought Denny was crazy for doing this soiree twice, but it was what Abby wanted, so he was more than happy to do it.

Kellan and I would also be heading over to Australia, but not for a few more months. The tour was kicking off in Vegas first, yet another place I’d always wanted to visit. Denny had managed to score Kellan and me our own bus for this tour. Our very own private bus! I could be as loud as I wanted, and no one but Kellan would hear me. Well, Kellan and the bus driver, who I often forgot about—and our bodyguard. After what had happened in New York, Kellan and I agreed to hire protection for the times we were out in public. It was still an odd concept for me. But the truth was that Kellan and I attracted attention when we went out, and sometimes that attention was a little too friendly. We didn’t want to take any chances now that I was pregnant.

So, while we wouldn’t be quite as alone as I’d originally thought, we had enough privacy that I was giddy and couldn’t wait for the tour to start.

The first show that the D-Bags headlined was sold out. So was the next. And the next. Whatever city we rolled into, they created a stir. A frenzy of D-Baggery. But it was all positive, and it was all honest this time—no more duplicitous gossip. The tour was spending three months in the U.S. and Canada and one month overseas. That was a stipulation that Kellan had insisted on. He didn’t want to be on the road for more than a few months out of the year—especially once the baby was born. After that happened, if I couldn’t be with him for some reason, then the touring time might be cut back even more. Kellan just didn’t want to miss anything, and I didn’t blame him.

As the tour progressed, so did my stomach. It was astounding how I would seemingly double in size overnight. I went from flat stomach to moderate bump to definite bulge to cantaloupe-sized to looking like I swallowed a watermelon—just like that! Kellan loved being able to see the progression. He would stare at my belly sometimes when we were in bed together, just watching my skin, like he was waiting for it to expand before his eyes.

After a few months of him unabashedly staring at my bare stomach, I told him one evening, “A watched pot never boils, you know.”