Page 97 of A Storybook Wedding

I will never love someone as much as I love this man.

“She’s got her own thing; that’s why I love her,” he sings in stereo with himself—next to me live and prerecorded on the television.

I don’t even want to join him. I want to remember this moment forever as a spectator of the world’s best private—or hugely public (depending on how you look at it)—serenade.

“Ooh, the way we shine,” he whispers in my ear, pulling me close to him. He smells like Nate, like clean sheets and spearmint and cedar.

Like home.

When the song is over, the audience goes crazy. TV Nate smiles and blushes, and Questlove emerges from behind his drum set and heads up to the front of the stage.

“CJ, I’m sorry for everything,” TV Nate says. “But nothing else matters as long as I have you. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“C’mon, CJ! You have to forgive him. I mean, it takes a real special kind of dude to go all out like this,” Quest says.

The audience cheers.

“Well, you’ll have to call me and let me know what happens, man,” Questlove says to Nate.

“I will,” Nate promises. They shake hands.

“Okay, folks, we’ll find out on tomorrow’s show if the karaoke bomb was defused!”

The segment ends, and the show cuts to commercial. I hit mute on the remote.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and sets it up for a video recording. Then he holds it out like as if we’re going to take a selfie.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“We need to tell Questlove if you forgive me,” he says. The video’s rolling. He raises his eyebrows. “So do you?”

I laugh. “I do,” I say, nodding.

“And do you love me?”

“I do. I love you, Nate Ellis.”

“Good. That’s all I need. Well, that, and this.” He cups my face with his free hand and pulls my face in to his. He drops the cell phone. It records the ceiling as his tongue slips into my mouth, erasing all the mistakes we made.

When we stop to take a breath, he reaches for the ground and stops the video. Then he texts it to someone.

“You have Questlove’s number?” I ask.

He shrugs.

“Stop it. You do not.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He reaches up and takes off my glasses. I close my eyes, and he wipes my tears away with his thumbs. “Hey,” he whispers.

“Hm?”

“I love you more.”

EPILOGUE

Nate

Okay, fine.

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