ROCK WEDDING
BY NALINI SINGH
NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR
Table of Contents
ROCK WEDDING
PART ONE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
PART TWO
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
PART THREE
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
PART FOUR
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
PART FIVE
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Epilogue
Author's Note
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Other Books by Nalini Singh
Copyright Information
PART ONE
CHAPTER 1
SARAH KNEW TODAY WAS A BAD DAY FOR ABE. The anniversary of Tessie's death always was... and it didn't matter that today was also the anniversary of the day Sarah and Abe had first met. Any happiness he felt at being with her was crushed under a black cloud of grief that descended the instant the clock ticked past midnight.
Sarah understood that Tessie came first, always had. She wasn't jealous. How could anyone be jealous of a sweet girl who'd only lived for eight years before her life was cut cruelly short? It seemed deeply unfair that someone so innocent was gone when such ugliness continued to exist in the world.
No, Sarah would never be jealous of Abe's beloved baby sister.
All Sarah wanted was to be there for Abe. He'd refused to share his grief with her on their first anniversary, but they'd been married nearly two years now. It was time she took the bull by the horns and made him understand that she'd always be there for him--in the darkness and in the light. Through the good and through the awful.
Why he didn't already understand that, she didn't know. Sarah had stood by her husband through the drugs and the stints in rehab and the backsliding. She'd been there every step of the way, had never, not once, given up on Abe--but he didn't seem to realize she'd bleed for him, die for him.
Sarah loved Abe with a devotion that terrified her.
She knew he didn't love her back. That was okay. She could accept that--she'd never expected someone so magnificent to love her. But he wanted her and he needed her and he was wonderful to her when he wasn't poisoning his body with drugs and alcohol. Only last month, he'd surprised her by taking her to see the live taping of her favorite television show. And the way he touched her... she felt precious.
It was more than she'd ever thought she'd find, more value than she'd ever believed anyone would see in her. If only she could help him with his grief in return.
Four years after Abe and his family buried Tessie, following the rapid onset of a disease against which Abe's sister stood no chance, and the loss remained an open wound inside him.
The outside world might look at him and think he'd given in to despair, but Sarah knew the truth. Her husband was full of rage. He held it within, his screaming at fate silent, but his anger, it never died. And sometimes, when there was too much inside him and he couldn't hold it within any longer, he took drugs and turned into a man she didn't know--and then he raged in truth.
Broken furniture, holes in the walls, Sarah was used to all of it. But no matter how awful his mood, how much poison ran through his veins, Abe had never, not once, turned that rage on her. He took it out on stone and concrete, leaving himself with bloodied knuckles he refused to allow her to bandage.
The last time, she'd called David in desperation. The drummer had come, gone toe to toe with him, made him calm down.
She hoped tonight wouldn't be a painful echo. Please let Abe be all right tonight.
Heart aching in the post-midnight quiet, she padded barefoot down the hallway of the airy and light-filled house and pushed open the door to the music room where a black baby grand piano sat in solitary splendor. The cover had been pulled off, dropped to the side; the stunning instrument gleamed in the moonlight that speared through the gauzy curtains hanging over the folding glass doors to its right.
Those doors were open, the curtains waving in a gentle breeze.
"Abe?" she said after running her eyes around the room and finding no sign of him.
She stepped through the curtains and out onto the patio beyond, the stone surface slightly gritty under the soles of her feet. The pool sparkled in the moonlight, the lawn pristine green velvet thanks to the gardeners who came in weekly.
Sarah would've liked to have set up a garden of her own, plant some happy, pretty flowers, but what did she know about gardening? She'd probably make an embarrassing hodgepodge that'd mess up the immaculate beds created by the gardening team, beds full of roses far more elegant and genteel than Sarah would ever be.
Tugging down the high hem of the sparkly gold dress she'd worn for dinner tonight, a dinner where Abe had sat darkly silent until he got up to stalk off into the night, she looked away from the ice-white roses that climbed up one side of the house and scanned the lawn, the trees at the edge of the property. Abe sometimes walked there at night, but she couldn't spot him today despite the light of the moon.
Her heart began to thump. "Abe?"
He'd been clean for a month this time, but if anything was going to send him into a downward spiral, it'd be the anniversary of Tessie's death. "Abe!"
Her voice echoed in the silvered darkness.
Wondering if he'd left the house, gone drinking on the town or out with one of his bandmates, she padded back into the house. She flushed when she realized she'd tracked a little dust inside, quickly went back outside and brushed off her feet on the mat by the door. Sometimes she thought she'd never figure out how to be refined and ladylike and look as if she belonged in Abe's world.
Not the glittering, hard-edged world of a rock star. That, she could fake.
No, it was the world of the Bellamy family that left her feeling lost. The world of Ivy League educations and old money and people who used words she'd only ever read in the novels that had been her friends throughout life. At least, because she read so much, she understood the words even if she couldn't pronounce them. That was good.
Once, when she'd dared mention to Abe how out of her depth she felt, he'd given a bemused shake of his head. "You're perfect, Sarah. Smart and beautiful." An arm around her neck, tugging her to the muscled warmth of him. "I don't have a snooty degree either, remember? Stop worrying."
That had made her feel better. But still, she couldn't do as he'd said, couldn't stop worrying. Because while Abe had forgone a degree to pursue a career in rock music, he was an accomplished classical pianist, had been playing since he was a child. And unlike her, he could go to an Ivy League university if he wanted to. His mother, Diane, was proud of his stellar school record, had told Sarah of it.
Of all the people in Abe's world, it was Diane Bellamy whom Sarah most admired. Abe's mother never had to raise her voice to get attention; she did it by dint of her presence and her quiet grace. Sarah wanted so much to be l
ike her, to have that elegant confidence and certainty about her place in the world.
After using a tissue she had in her pocket to brush away the dust she'd tracked onto the gleaming wooden floors, she scrunched up the tissue and put it back in the pocket meant for a phone and ID when going clubbing. There wasn't much else to this strapless sequined dress--she'd worn it tonight because it made her feel pretty, but mostly because the last time she'd worn it, Abe had hauled her close and kissed her stupid.
"Abe?" she said again, her hopeful tone starting to tremble.
A knot grew in her throat.
He'd left her alone again, gone off to deal with his demons on his own--or in the company of the people he did love. Fox, Noah, and David, his bandmates and best friends.
Sarah knew she should be grateful, and she was. Anything that helped Abe, Sarah would accept. She just... She just wished he wouldn't shut her out. His reserve was like a stone wall she couldn't penetrate no matter how hard she tried.
Despite all the good times in their marriage, all the times they'd laughed together, all the nights they'd spent tangled in one another, the closest they'd ever been was on the night they'd first met.
He'd been alone that night and so raw in his pain that she'd wanted only to comfort him. She'd held him, then later given him her body. She hadn't known it was the anniversary of Tessie's death then, but she'd known he needed her and she'd wanted only to give to this man who made her soul come alive. Even the knowledge that he was out of her league hadn't stopped her, Sarah the moth to Abe's flame.
There you are, a hidden part of her had whispered the first time he spoke to her. I've been waiting so long for you.
But last year on this date, he'd spent the night away from her. The four members of Schoolboy Choir had recorded all night, gotten Abe through the anniversary while Sarah walked alone in the house.
She'd never known it was possible to be lonely in a marriage until she'd married Abe, married the man she loved beyond life.
Eyes burning, she touched careful fingers to the piano, not wanting to leave fingerprints on the glossy finish but unable to resist its beauty. It was such a lovely instrument, but she'd never heard its song. Abe had never, not once, played it in the time since she moved into his home.
It seemed wrong to her that the instrument had been silenced.
Taking a seat on the piano stool, she looked at the pristine black and white of the keys. She hadn't had the chance to learn music as a child, but she'd made a real effort at learning the piano since marrying Abe so that she could talk to him about his passion. Her teacher had declared that she was "pedestrian but stubborn."
That was fine with Sarah--she had no dreams of being a great musician.
Her passion was Abe; music was just a way to get closer to him.
But even a pedestrian musician could learn fairly complex pieces over a year and a half of intensive study comprised of ten or more hours of lessons a week. It helped fill in the time when she was alone in the house except for the housekeeper and the chef who came in for a short period each day. During the weeks while Abe was on tour, she asked the piano teacher to come every day. And then there were all the days when Abe was recording or planning songs with the band.
Sarah had a lot of time on her hands.
Staring at the keys, she lifted her hands, put them immediately back down.
This was Tessie's piano. She knew that without ever having been told. It was obvious from the way it stayed draped in covers all year except on the anniversary of her death. Though Abe never talked about Tessie with Sarah, she'd seen the photos he kept around the house, seen the joyous smile and dancing eyes of Abe's much younger sister, her tightly curled black hair in adorable little pigtails.
Tessie had been a midlife surprise for her parents, born when Abe was thirteen. Rather than being resentful of the tiny interloper, Abe had adored her.
"He was such a good big brother," Diane had told Sarah one day while they shared a coffee before a family dinner. "He used to call her from boarding school and tell her bedtime stories, always took her on 'dates' during his vacations home. And whenever she asked him to play the piano, he'd play, and Tessie would put on her little tutu and dance and dance."
Sarah didn't think a girl with such joy in music would've wanted this piano to sit forever silent.
"For you," Sarah whispered and put her fingers to the keys.
The piano was in perfect tune.
As she played a haunting nocturne, she realized Abe must keep it that way even though he refused to play the instrument. Her entire chest hurt for him, for her beautiful man with his broken heart and scarred soul. If only he--
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
CHAPTER 2
JERKING TO A STOP WITH A JANGLING OF THE KEYS, Sarah stood up so fast she knocked over the piano stool. "Abe!" Her pulse a racehorse, she stared at the man looming at her from only two feet away. "Where were you? Didn't you hear me calling?"
"Get the fuck away from the piano."
Even during the worst of the drugs, he'd never spoken to her with such dark anger. His eyes glittered in the moonlight, his black shirt and black jeans only increasing the sense of danger that clung to him, her husband with his skin the shade of rich mahogany and his wide shoulders.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, stepping away, then bending down to right the stool.
He didn't help her, didn't move, just stood there staring at her with those cold, hard eyes in a face that was all harsh good looks.
Her stomach twisted. "I just thought--"
"I didn't marry you for your brains."
His vicious words tore open her deepest vulnerability, stabbing right into her secret knowledge that she was a high school dropout from the wrong side of the tracks playing at being a sophisticated woman who belonged in this big north Santa Monica home with its shining floors and glittering chandeliers.
Sarah blinked past the stinging pain; she knew Abe was hurting. She wouldn't take what he'd said to heart. After all, he didn't know about her past. As far as he was aware, she had the same level of education as him and she'd been born in a normal, boring suburb, her equally normal parents killed in a car crash at the end of her high school years.
He couldn't know how much the words he'd spoken in anger hurt her.
Holding on tight to that thought, she said, "You shouldn't be alone tonight." She moved to him, reaching out to lay a hand on the muscled heat of his forearm, his skin appearing exquisitely darker in this light. "Why don't we talk about Tessie?" she said gently. "Think of all the good memories, the fun times you had with her. I'd like to know her too."
Shrugging off her hand, Abe strode to stand just outside the open doors, his eyes on the landscape beyond. "Get out."
"Abe--"
He turned, shoulders bunched and hands fisted. "You don't get it, do you, Sarah?" Shoving aside the curtains so there was no barrier between them, he said, "You're a hot piece of ass who managed to get into my head and into my pants while I was out of it. I married you because you told me you were pregnant--"
The sneer in his voice broke something inside her. "I was pregnant!" The miscarriage had devastated her. Abe had been so tender then, had held her as she cried. He'd even stayed home for an entire week, and she'd fallen asleep in his arms.
She'd almost felt loved.
Tonight he shrugged in a way that made it clear he saw her as a scheming liar. "The point is I don't love you. I don't want to share things with you." Hard, staccato words. "Your job is to keep looking like a hot piece of ass and to hang on my arm when I need you to. Otherwise, stay the fuck out of my life."
Fighting tears, Sarah tried to remember this was grief and rage talking. "You don't mean that."
"Jesus, Sarah." He stalked toward her, grabbed her upper arms, almost lifted her off the floor. "How much clearer can I make it? You're a groupie like countless others I've fucked. You just lucked out that I was stupid enough to fuck you without a condom."
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br /> She'd felt so needed that night when Abe had first taken her to his bed, so wanted. Afterward, as he'd slept in her arms, the lines of pain erased from his face, she'd felt useful for the first time in her life. "It was more than that." She refused to let him destroy her memories. "We stayed together all night." Limbs entwined, hearts beating in time. "We began a relationship."
Abe put his face an inch from hers. "I was high and you were available."
Sarah flinched, feeling cheap and trashy and... like nothing.
Abe continued before she could respond. "So if you want to keep this nice life you've managed to con out of me, stay the fuck out of my sight unless I want you there." He released her. "You just have to spread your legs when I ask and smile for the cameras when necessary. That's our relationship."
Sarah shattered inside, spiderweb cracks spreading out from her heart to create jagged shards in every corner of her. Trembling and with her tears starting to fall despite her attempts to hold them back, she looked into Abe's eyes and couldn't tell if he was sober or not. "You've been drinking." The words came out shaky, a plea.
"Do I sound drunk?"
No, he didn't. But his body was so used to the alcohol and the drugs that it was often hard to judge his sobriety. He could well be under the influence. Sarah tried to hold onto that... and couldn't. Not in the face of the ugly things he'd said to her.
Never had he spoken to her that way.
And she knew.
Abe didn't just not love her. He didn't even like her.
He definitely didn't need her.
She was worthless.
Again.
Turning on her heel, she ran from the music room. Her tears threatened to blind her, but she managed to make it up to their bedroom and pull out a small suitcase. It was a fancy Louis Vuitton one. She didn't really like the colors or the design. Left to her own tastes, she would've bought the much cheaper one that looked as if it had travel stickers all over it. But this was the kind Abe's mother used, and Sarah had copied her because then she could be sure of not making a mistake and embarrassing Abe.
Wiping the backs of her hands over her cheeks as her tears continued to fall hot and wet, she threw clothes into the bag. She wasn't quite sure what she was packing, but it didn't matter. Shoes, she needed shoes. Going to the large walk-in closet she'd spent hours organizing and reorganizing because she couldn't believe it was hers, she found her cheapest, oldest pair of tennis shoes and thrust her feet into them.