Things with my parents were better, and Bex had a lot to do with that. She’d encouraged me to heal that part of my life as well, especially since they were the only grandparents our baby was going to have. They were planning to be in Florida for the birth of both of their grandbabies, mine and Julia’s. While there were still things that were hard for me to get past about our relationship, I was willing to keep trying. I wanted to see them redeem themselves through my child.
They were very willing to take as small of steps as I wanted. They both called me at least once a week, and my mom had taken to talking to Bex several times a week. She was so excited about our baby and was already spoiling him or her rotten. They were genuinely listening to me now and not trying to control everything.
Bex knew to come in when she heard the chords to ‘My Forever.’ As soon as Natalie hit ‘play,’ the soft sounds of the song I’d sung for her started filtering through the speakers. Bex burst through the door in her typical fashion, making us all laugh. As she liked to say, she wasn’t girly or frilly. She was rough, tough, and also the most sensitive, caring person I’d ever known.
Beau recited words from his book in a monotone voice. We joked and made fun of him through the whole ceremony, taking nothing seriously. Once he got to the part about rings, we both made a show of taking off our Band-Aids. Today we’d gotten tattoos on our ring fingers instead of rings. Well, Bex’s was just henna since she was pregnant, but we’d get the real one as soon as our baby was born. Mine was barbed wire, a replica of the kind that kept me locked in my own prison for too many years. In between the wires was her name in jagged letters. Hers was an infinity symbol, with a small heart in the center on the front. My name wound around the symbol.
We recited normal wedding vows, leaving the personal stuff for behind closed doors. We weren’t the kind that liked to get all mushy in front of people.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Beau said finally. I dipped Bex back and kissed her from her neck to her lips, making our guests laugh and catcall.
Her eyes gleamed as I lifted her back up and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “You’re mine.”
“You got that fucking right,” I said. “Now let’s go give some people a concert they won’t forget.”
The crowd screamed as Bex and I went onto the stage. They hadn’t known until they got here that we’d gotten married just a little while ago. After the ceremony, we’d had a quiet dinner together at The Outrigger, enjoying having all of our favorite people together at once.
“Surprise! Doesn’t my bride look fucking beautiful?” I shouted at the crowd. Bex curtsied, loving being on the stage. “You can only look, though, because she’s mine.” They laughed. “Did you see my baby, too? Cooking good in there.” The audience awed. “We’re going to do something brand new for you tonight. You’re the first to hear it. Are you ready?”
The group cheered. Of course, it being an outside concert, we’d attracted attention from up and down the beach. People were standing outside the guarded blockades, listening.
“Heyyyy everybody,” Bex’s raspy voice jumped in. People loved her. “My sexy hubby and I have been working hard on this song for you. Are you ready to hear it? It’s our wedding present to you.” The crowd screamed, jumping up and down in anticipation. She looked over at me. “This song is called ‘No Longer Broken.’ It was co-written by the two of us. It’s kind of our story.”
Our eyes met and we began playing, the crowd fading away. It was just us. “Here we are . . . we used to be lost and lonely, always in pain. All we ever wanted was to be loved, but didn’t think it would happen. Life crushed our spirit, made us hardened and angry . . . We were broken. . . . so broken . . . until the day we put each other back together again. Now we’re no longer broken . . . no longer broken . . . because we have each other. Through the pain, through the trials . . . though we thought we weren’t able to be fixed . . . we were wrong . . . so wrong . . .”
As we went back into the chorus, both of our voices in sync with each other, I looked over at Bex. Her eyes were closed as they often were when she sang. The lights from the stage illuminated a fine sheen of sweat on her face, her guitar hanging from her while I played alone to the melody of her voice.
Our voices began trailing off as we reached the end of the powerful song and she opened her eyes, smiling at me. I stepped towards her and kissed her, not caring that we were being watched by hundreds of people. The crowd screamed and cheered.
I smiled as I pulled away from her. We were both breathless, partly from singing and partly because we were a fucking combustible force together. I put the microphone between us so we could sing the last line together.
“We were once locked up, sentenced to a life of pain and misery. But we’re not broken anymore . . .”
“Come here, Lennox,” Bex called. Lennox squealed, loving her independence now that she knew how to walk well. She was chasing a butterfly across the expansive grass.
“I’ll get her,” I laughed. Lennox saw me coming and pumped her legs faster, squealing louder as she tried to outrun me. “I’m gonna get you, Lennox Taylor.”
Just before I reached her she plopped on the ground dissolved in giggles. “Da! Da!”
“Come here you silly girl,” I scooped her up. “Mommy wants us to come over there. Then you can run.” Just like always, Lennox popped her thumb into her mouth and rested her head on my shoulder the second I picked her up.
While her mom had changed my life almost two years ago by playing at The Outrigger, Lennox had put the icing on the cake for us. When she’d been born just over a year ago, I felt like I’d finally figured out what I was put on this Earth for: to be Bex’s husband, band mate, and now father to Lennox.
Now here we were, together as a family, on the anniversary of Gibson’s birth and death, visiting his grave. This was the first time since Bex had put him to rest here that she’d been back, and it had been important for her to introduce Lennox to her brother even though she wouldn’t understand.
I reached Bex’s side, settling Lennox next to her on the grass. It was a simple headstone with Gibson Bryant etched into the stone. Bex had brought a stuffed bear to leave at the grave.
Lennox picked up the bear and hugged it to her chest. “This is for your brother,” Bex explained. Lennox’s little brow furrowed as she tried to understand. “Your brother is in Heaven, but he’ll always look out for you.” She patted the ground where he was buried. “Gibson.”
Lennox was as smart as a whip. She loved echoing everything we said and did, including already strumming on our guitars when we played. It was part of our nightly routine, after bath time. Lennox would go point to our guitars (but never touch, she knew that already) and say ‘g’tar, pway.’ It was the best part of my day.
Tears shone in Bex’s eyes. “Gibson is your brother. Put the bear here for him.”
Lennox studied her mom’s face, her expression serious. She hated to see anyone cry. She babbled, trying to repeat her mom’s words.
“Yes, baby. Give the bear to Gibson, Lennox. Put it right there by Mommy.”
Lennox did what she was told and then plopped on Bex’s lap, looking up at me expectedly. “I love you, baby girl.”
“Wuv da,” she said, turning her face so she could see Bex. “Wuv ma.”
“I love you,” I said to Bex. I knew this was a very hard day for her. As happy as we were together, she would always wonder what her life would’ve been like had she gotten the chance to be a mother to Gibson.
“I love you, too,” she said, wrapping Lennox in a hug and kissing her soft head. “I can’t even believe this is our life now.”