Page 108 of The Ballad of Us
“Speaking of success, Kip called yesterday. He and Henley want to come early for the wedding, and they’re bringing the whole crew of Broken Access and Abandoned Shadow. They need a 'small-town detox'.”
“The more the merrier. Rhea loves Henley.” It warms my heart that even a legendary rock goddess like Henley Hendrix sees how amazing my girl is.
“Everyone loves Henley. She's like gothic sunshine in leather pants.” Leslie steps back to admire his handiwork. “There. You look like a man ready to make eternal promises.”
“I've been ready for months.”
“I know, Suga Bear. The way you look at that girl makes my cold, dead heart remember what feelings are.” He makes me worry about him.
“Your heart isn't cold or dead, Leslie. Why are you single? Is it a preference, or is it that life hasn’t brought you the soulmate you deserve?” I ask, hoping he understands that he indeed deserves a special, significant other to share his life with.
“I…” he stops and starts again. “I haven’t found the right person to accept and love me for who I am. I’ve settled a lot in my life when it comes to romantic partners. I’m not growing any younger, Suga Bear. I see that people often have only two options in life when it comes to romance and intimacy — they can settle out of loneliness and spend their time unhappy in a relationship they can’t grow or evolve in. Or they can learn to love themselves and become their best version, so that when that soulmate crosses our path, we’re ready.”
I’ve always known Leslie had a ton of layers and depth, and I realize there’s too much I don’t know about my friend. “I think that’s a positive, healthy way to look at it.”
After the fitting, I head to the studio, now transformed from a warehouse to a creative sanctuary, filled with our gold records, tour posters, and photos. A photo from a difficult night reminds me how far we've come, surrounding me with a sense of hard-earned peace.
“Five hundred days,” Parker says as soon as I walk in, not looking up from his drums. “I saw you counting on your fingers during coffee this morning.”
“You saw that from across the coffee shop?”
“I see everything. It's my superpower.” He smirks.
“Your superpower is annoying people with your perfectionism,” Zep counters from where he's restringing his guitar.
“Says the man who spent three hours yesterday tuning one guitar,” I fire back in good humor.
“It needed precise calibration!” Zep argues.
“It needed you to stop obsessing and actually play something,” Parker teases.
This is our new normal. At any given moment, one can find us gently bickering, but it's out of love rather than frustration, or in a creative session that feels more like a family gathering.
“How was the fitting?” Andrew looks up from the mixing board.
“Leslie has opinions about pocket squares.” I smile even as I say it because I’ve grown incredibly fond of Leslie.
“Leslie has opinions about everything,” Zep adds.
“And we love him for it,” Cody tacks on, because Cody has appointed himself as Leslie's chief defender ever since Leslie helped him through a rough patch with his anxiety last month.
“Speaking of the wedding… we need to finalize the setlist. Rhea requested 'At Last' by Etta James for your parents’ dance.” Wyatt walks into the conversation.
“And 'The Ballad of Us' for our first dance,” I add, feeling the familiar warmth that comes from thinking about that song. “But I want to record it with the acoustic, just me and my guitar.”
“You sure you don't want the full band?” Andrew lifts a brow.
“I'm sure. That song is just for her. The fact that other people witness it is already more public than it was meant to be.”
My phone rings, and Xavier's name appears on the screen. My sponsor has become more than just a recovery support, he's become a friend, a mentor, and the voice of reason when my brain tries to complicate simple things.
“Gray, how's four-thirty looking?” Xavier asks when I answer.
“Four-thirty's perfect.”
Xavier's voice is gentle as he says, “Good. We need to talk about your recovery plan for the wedding. Big events can be triggers, even happy ones.”
Comfort should follow, but instead, dread crawls in. My heart thuds, my mouth goes dry, and there's a cold, creeping tightness across my chest – a warning of the dangers that lurk even in joy. “I know. I've been thinking about that.”
