Page 93 of Tangled Up In You

“Sondra.”

“Really? Are they back together? When did this happen?”

Gavin laughed. “I don’t know. I think he gets romantic notions in his head now and again. He doesn’t really want to be with her the way she wants. Hopefully she’s going in with her eyes open.”

“You never know. Weddings are awfully romantic.”

“Especially for the two getting hitched.”

“Are you nervous?” she asked.

“Just worried you’ll change your mind and won’t show.”

“Keep you on your toes.”

“Give me a little hope, won’t you?”

“Well … I do have this really nice dress and nowhere else to be today, so I think I will be there.”

“Brilliant. I can’t wait to see you, Sophie.”

“Me too, baby. But I better go now. I’ve only got seven hours to get beautiful for you.”

“More beautiful? Didn’t think it was possible.”

“Keep that up and I just might marry you, mister.”

“I love you, sweet girl.”

“I love you, Gavin.”

55

GAVIN

There was no going to sleep after that call. Not when his thoughts bounced from one thing to another the way they did. Everything was happening at once—the new album had been holding tight to the top of the charts for three months, the world tour would begin the following month, and he was about to get married.

That Needhad immediately garnered excellent reviews both in Europe and America. It debuted in the top five in over a dozen countries, thanks to the massive success of “You’re My One.” The song had been released as the first single at the insistence of the record label, along with a subtle marketing campaign that put the Gavin and Sophie reunion story back in the news.

James was in a near frenzy every time he talked to the band, as the demands of his management duties had exponentially escalated and drained his capabilities. He now had a complicated, extensive organization supporting Rogue. He had even assigned one staffer the duty of dealing with media requests concerning Gavin and Sophie’s wedding.

Gavin got up and padded across the hardwood floors of Conor’s guest room to the bathroom. The vision in the mirror plainly revealed a hung-over young man. There were faint dark circles underneath his bloodshot eyes, his face had gone unshaven for several days, and his hair was a tangled mess.

“Who’d want to marry you?” he said softly, and then laughed.

Turning on the countertop radio, he heard his own voice singing “You’re My One.” Groaning, he turned to another station and heard “That Need.”

Giving in, he sang along with himself as he showered.

Afterward, with a towel around his waist, he wiped the steamy mirror to see if he looked any better. His wet hair, detangled with the help of conditioner, now dripped down his back but his eyes still needed help. He quickly dressed in jeans and a tee shirt before going to Conor’s room.

“Wake up, wanker,” Gavin told him, sitting heavily on the bed.

Conor groaned and pulled a pillow over his face.

“Come on, you’re supposed to be my best man.”

“What do you want, Gav?”

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