Declaration (23 page)

Her crown.

It wasn’t large, more like a princess tiara, but it was gold and gaudy and it would do the trick. She slapped me a high five and then launched herself up into Whitney’s arms.

“Hey, Cupcake,” Whitney said, kissing her hair. “What do you have goin’ on here, huh?” She tapped her little crown and wrapped her arms around her, both of them facing Tony. “Is your daddy picking out your outfits again?”

Tony snorted. “Heavens no, Little Miss! Our boy Carter here is responsible for this one.” With a clap of his hands, he excused himself to take a call on his cell, leaving us with Tia.

“I admit I’m intrigued, Montgomery,” Whitney drawled, arching a brow at me.

“It’s all a part of the plan, I assure you. Right, Squirt?” I leaned over and gave Tia a little nudge to the ribs. She giggled and I made an adjustment to my glasses before I dove forward and scooped her off of Whitney’s lap, holding her in the air and tickling her into bouts of squealing laughter. I flung her round and round, slowing when I felt dizzy. Setting Tia to her feet, I caught Whitney’s eyes on me, smoldering and thoughtful in a lost, lazy haze. I realized then that I still had her. Not that she could fall out of love with me in two days, but it was amazing the things we could bring ourselves to do when we felt insecure, when we were out to protect our hearts. We could deny it what it wants most, just for the sake of saving our pride or dodging another bullet.

“Hey kiddo, run over there with your daddy for a minute, will you?”

“
Mmkay
!” Tia dashed toward Tony, who was standing just outside of the restaurant’s overhang, gabbing on the phone as he looked out at the Gulf. The restaurant was filling up now, just as I’d wanted. It wouldn’t be long until I made my declaration. I didn’t just need my position to be clear, I needed to blind Whitney with blazing fireballs of glory. Real hardcore knock-em-down shit.

Not that a little open-mic session and pub food counted as blazing fireballs of glory, but in my cinematic mind, this was a grand gesture. Or, I at least hoped to hell it was enough to get my point across.

Like Whitney, I knew what it meant to be hurt. Whether you brought that hurt on yourself or someone else did the lynching, being hurt always resulted in a lack of trust. You either distrusted those who wanted to get close to you, or you distrusted yourself for getting into such a screwed up situation in the first place. Either way, you were cautious.

“Before I get up there,” I said, nudging my chin toward the stage, “I wanted to finish what I was saying earlier.” I moved to stand next to her, but didn’t take my seat.

“I thought words were overrated.”

I ignored her sass. “You’ve ruined me too, Whit. For all other women.”

The spark I’d seen flicker again tonight was burning in her gaze, like embers. “You don’t have to do this, Carter. This is all…so thoughtful, but you know I don’t want your pity. I don’t want anything from you that you can’t give. You’re my friend. A good one. I want to keep it that way.”

“I want to be more than your friend.” The weight of those words unloaded on my lungs. “I’ve said those words before, but this time, I know the woman I’m saying them to feels the same.” She began to speak, but I cut her off, adamant she hear me…before I told the world how I felt about her.

Okay, maybe not the world, but a crowd in a sandy bar on the Gulf of Mexico had to count for something, right?

“I’m not in love with Kate, Whitney. Not like that. Not anymore. And I’m not saying this because I feel obligated to or because I feel sorry for you or I’m trying to save my ass after that awkward night. I’m saying it because I know it now, surer than I’ve ever been about anything. All this time, even before I officially met you, when I was just leering at you from across the pool table at Pete’s, I was seeing you, but I wasn’t seeing what was right in front of me. I wasn’t really seeing
you
. I wasn’t seeing anyone or anything but my hang-up. I barely recognized myself.” I peeked over at Tony and Tia, who were still standing just outside of the restaurant. Tony must’ve caught a flash of the intensity in my gaze, because he nodded slightly and didn’t move, holding Tia in place.

“Carter,” Whitney started, “you don’t have to convince me of anything. It’s sweet and it’s so…you. It’s so
Montgomery
.” She laughed lightly, giving a shake of her head. “But you can’t rush this.”

I bit hard on my lip, my tongue seeking out my piercing. She wasn’t buying it. She wasn’t hearing me. Just as I’d thought, she was only hearing a pity speech. “I see it now. Everything I’ve been missing. Everything I’ve been holding myself back from—maybe not in obvious ways, but internally. I’ve been looking back over my shoulder when I should’ve been looking straight ahead, at you. I’ve been trying to bury my past, when my future has been right in front of me. You’re it, Whitney. You reminded me what life is, what it feels like. Why I should give a rat’s ass about performing, that I need to live in the moment and challenge myself, look for new opportunities, open new doors instead of reopening old ones.
Libertas
,” I said, reaching for her arm to graze her tattoo, “you make me crave freedom. Make me shake off the dust.”

Her lashes danced and she blinked, her lips stuttering as she sought words. That’s when the nails-on-a-chalkboard squeal of the mic punctured our conversation, calling our attention to the stage.

“Testing,” a voice said, a thumb flicking the mic with a thud. “Carter, we’re ready for ya, man.” I nodded to the guy on stage, one of the production techies I’d hired to make sure everything ran smoothly. This night ended up costing me more than I could afford at the moment, but it would all be worth it if it meant reaching Whitney. I’d already said the bulk of what I’d brought her here to say, and now it was time for the rest.

“Wait.” She placed her hand over mine. “Carter, there’s something I need to tell you. Can we go somewhere…a little more private?”

“She’s all yours,” Tony’s voice came from behind me, and I felt Tia tug on my pant leg.

“Ready?” Tia hopped up and down.

I shot Whitney a look, and she glanced between the four of us, her brows pinched with unease.

“Can we finish this afterwards?” I asked her, searching her expression—for what, I didn’t know.

“Oh, of course,” she smiled, letting Tia jump up on her lap to give her a kiss on the cheek. “We’ll talk after.”

I reluctantly took that as my cue to follow Tia up to the stage. Tony took a seat with Whitney, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at Tia’s determination. She stomped right up onto the platform, dragging me by the hand as if we were on a mission to save planet Earth.

This kid meant business.

We took our seats on the stools and then the techies carried out our twin Lizes, moving to check our mics. One glance out at the restaurant and it suddenly hit me that the bar had filled up quick, looking much like the night I’d played here last. Bob, one of the owner’s friends, handed me the medium-sized jeweled chest, with my treasured prop inside, and I thanked him and set it at my feet. Tia grinned wide when she saw it, pumping her first up and down in a display of utter cuteness.

“This song is dedicated to Queen Whitney!” she announced, spitting against the microphone. I eyed Whitney, watching her cover her heart with her hand. Her eyes watered, and I repeated Tia’s announcement, holding her gaze with all the sincerity I could muster. “To Queen Whitney.”

And then the lights dimmed, and our song began.

The song I’d been working on since I’d arrived on the island. The one that morphed into something else entirely, something I never intended it to be. But music is like that. Much like life. It tells the story, it takes the lead.

You’re just along for the ride.

Tia’s contribution was minimal, obviously. Her strums and back-up vocals were there to add a little amusement to the show, and to give the kid a chance to put into practice all I’d been teaching her. God love her, she played her little heart out, even if the crowd’s ears were a little sore from her efforts. I just smiled at her and cheered her on, watched as she basked in the glow of the limelight. She was a natural ham, something that might hurt her or help her as she grew up on the stage.

I belted the lyrics, taking it easy with the chorus so she could sing and hum along, working hard to keep the natural pace of the melody in play but guiding her as best as I could so she didn’t feel left in the dust. The words drifted from my lips, powerful and full of the passion Whitney had ignited in my life:

A queen always wears her crown

She knows not a frown

Never keeps her feet on the ground

Ahead, ahead, she rules what’s ahead

There’s no fear when the king’s not around

No running away when the kingdom’s fallen down

‘
Cause she needs no king, no servants, only air

And the fire in her heart to carry her there

Where freedom’s free and the rules are her own

Far from the castle, her spirit does roam

Because a queen always wears her crown

She knows not a frown

Never keeps her feet on the ground

Ahead, ahead, she rules what’s ahead

There’s no missing the shimmer of the jewels

The way they glint against the gleam of the throne

‘
Cause that crown is heavy with truth, with grit

And the fierceness she always carries with it

Where freedom’s hers and hers alone

Far from the castle, or right at home

Because a queen always wears her crown

She wears it with pride

She wears it with glory

The crown, it’s her story

Ahead, ahead, she rules what’s ahead

My queen always wears her crown

The final words burned from my lips, and I found I’d shut my eyes, effortlessly sucked into the bubble with my good friend, Music. Inhaling deeply, I opened them and they landed on Whitney’s table. Her shoulders were squared, her cheeks wet, her expression stunned. It was a priceless sight, one I’d never, ever forget.

“Go ahead, Kiddo, do the honors, will you?” I asked Tia over the crowd’s applause.

Tia set Liz down with a clunk and picked up the jeweled chest near my feet. Waddling down from the stage, she lost her balance a time or two as she made her way to Whitney, struggling with the bulkiness of the chest. She made it in one piece, presenting the box to Whitney with a great big, beautiful smile.

“For me?” Whitney asked, eyes wide and grin sparkling. The applause died down, allowing me to hear the exchange. Tia watched as Whitney popped open the chest and gasped, her laughter warming every part of me. Tony came around from the other side of the table to hold the chest, seeing his little one struggle with the weight of the thing.

“For my Little Miss,” he cheered. “Queen Whitney!” Reaching into the box, he pulled out the prop—a gold crown matching Tia’s; larger, heavier, and more decadent than the mini version. He placed it on Whitney’s head and planted a wet, smacking kiss on her forehead the way a father would a daughter. From what I’d gathered, Tony and his Orpheus family were more than just friends of Whitney. They really were like her extended family, and Tony really did dote on Whitney as if she were another daughter of his.

More applause and a few
awwws
sounded from all around, and I tipped my top hat in her direction. “Whitney Sinclair,” I leaned into the mic, making sure I had her full attention before continuing on, “I spent a lot of my life feeling like no one really noticed me. But when you look at me, you look at me like I’m the only one in the room. You see me. I want you and everyone in this joint to know…I love you. And you still owe me a tip.”

More sweet sounds rang out, and before I could announce what was next on the agenda for the evening, Whitney bounded up the stage and took my face in her hands, kissing me hard. We melted into one another, melted into the hoots and hollers that rose into the salty night air. Most of these people were strangers.

I didn’t care.

They didn’t seem to, either. They played their part, just like I’d paid them to. The first round of drinks was on me, as was the live band to follow. I’d arranged tonight for Whitney and Whitney alone. To show her I wasn’t afraid to be heard. That I wasn’t afraid to fly with her and leave my past in the dust, right where it belonged. This sea of strangers could start their buzz on my tab and never say hello to me again, for all I cared. The joy on Whitney’s face was worth every penny. I wanted her to feel special, wanted to put her on the spot and make her glow, make her golden. She wasn’t Kate. She wasn’t just some random hook-up.

She was
it
.

The edge of her crown bonked the tip of my top hat and she pulled back, keeping her arms tight around the nape of my neck. “Well,” she said, all saucy and lively, “now that you’ve thoroughly humiliated me in front of all these strangers, how about you dance with me?”