With a final, pained look, he dashed away. Willow handed Eden his shirt. She pulled it on, loving that it was still warm from his body. It reached her mid-thigh and when she caught sight of herself in the mirror, she thought she looked pretty good. “I can get away with this. What about you? Do you want to wear the wedding dress?”

Willow clasped his hands, flexing his ridiculous muscles. “I’ll rock no shirt. As long as you don’t think that’s obnoxious?”

“Oh, it’s definitely obnoxious, but I love it. Let’s do it.”

She held out her hand. “Doctor?”

“Pretty girl.” He wove his fingers through hers and they left the change room together.

“Once we’re on tour, I’m gonna make us all t-shirts,” he said. “For me and Cheryl and Kieran and stuff. They can say ‘Eden’s crew’ and have bunnies on them, or something.”

“That sounds amazing.”

They paused at the end of the hallway and smiled at one another.

“I should go before Andy has a conniption,” she said.

“I know. But you’ll be back soon?”

“I will. We have so much to talk about.”

“We do. So I’ll make this fast. When you have time, we should fly north so you can meet my dad.”

Eden’s stomach turned over. “I mean, that terrifies me, but of course.”

“And you have to be my date to Derek’s wedding.”

She smiled. “Okay. It’ll be nice to see Beth and Mara again anyway.”

He squeezed her hand. “You know, you’re the only person worth doing this for.”

“Quitting professional football to become a lackey?”

“Taking a chance.” He kissed her cheek, his lips catching on the diamantés. “Have a great show. I’ll be out there, dancing shirtless like a knob.”

Beaming, Eden ran up the stage stairs. Behind the curtain, she could hear the crowd buzzing. She let their excitement run through her, the cleanest high she’d ever felt. Yet tonight it was different. Less terrifying somehow. She thought of Willow, and it was like being cloaked in flexible, lightweight armour. She was loved. Everything was going to be okay. She stepped into the bright lights of the stage and as she was greeted with a hurricane of screams, she knew this was going to be an awesome show.

21

Willow adjusted his lapels in the full-length mirror at the corner of the groomsmen marquee. He felt like a million dollars, but he always did when he was wearing a kilt. Beside him, Derek wasn’t looking nearly so chipper. He was stumped in a leather wingback chair, his brow dotted with sweat. Willow frowned. “Mate, not to be insensitive, but you need to pull yourself together. People are gonna think you’re doing a runner.”

“I’m not fucking running anywhere.” Derek swiped a hand across his forehead. “This is all so fucking public.”