Epilogue

Three years later

"You're sure you won't let me dye it?"

I grin as I walk into our hotel bathroom, where Connor leans forward and inspects the silver streaks above his ears. They've spread over the past few years, sprinkling his dark hair with highlights, although he's still far more pepper than salt.

"No one ever looked at a silver fox and thought, ‘Oh, let's just get rid of all that dignified sexiness.'"

"Dignified sexiness," he snorts, his hands moving to his eyes and tugging at the skin. "Is that what these fucking wrinkles are, too?"

I bat his hand away and pull him in with a stern look, planting a gentle kiss on both sides of his temples. "Those are laugh lines, and they just prove to the world how funny your husband is."

He furrows his brow and then points at the creases that form. "And these show how much he tests my nerves?"

He yelps as I swat him on the ass, gripping him by the cheeks as I tug him against me. "I wouldn't change a thing about you."

"There you go, being sweet when I'm trying to be a jackass," he murmurs as he pulls me into a kiss.

I hum against his lips. "You're always trying to be a jackass."

"Trying?"

"Succeeding," I laugh as I pull away, walking to the closet to drag out our suits.

Our wedding was last summer, back at the resort that started it all. It was a small ceremony, with only a select few family and friends along with the band. Cho and Andrew came, and Beth brought her new husband, any jealousy and animosity gone as we've gotten to know each other over the years. Banana rum shots were poured by the bottle full, and we waded in the lapping ocean water, eating pizza and donuts and having the best night of our lives.

I sense his presence behind me again as his arms wrap around me, placing gentle kisses on my neck. "Are you ready for tonight?"

"Ready as I'm going to be," I say, taking a deep breath to fill my lungs and fight the nerves that are trying to form. We get dressed in relative silence, my mind on a thousand other things as I watch him slide into his suit.

The years haven't taken away from his size—if anything, he's bigger now than he was when we met. His gym is still his baby, and his injury in London never affected his dedication. It was hard to keep him out of the ring for those few months after, but Dante helped me to cage the beast. We kept him off his feet long enough to make a full recovery.

He winces ever so slightly when a heavy rain moves through, but he denies it hurts, and I've stopped trying to get him to admit it.

Like I've said a million times, stubborn.

My fingers rake through my hair as I pull it back. It's grown past my shoulders again, even though it was a struggle to push through that awkward stage and I almost gave up a few times. I run my hands over my suit when I'm done, pushing the plum material smooth as Connor sidles up behind me.

He's wearing black, but I convinced him to wear my purple floral tie to add an explosion of color—and to make sure the world knows he's mine. "You look beautiful," he whispers, pressing a soft kiss behind my ear that makes me shudder. A buzz sounds as he pulls out his phone and waves it at me. "That's Dante; they're here."

We head through the hallway and into the elevator, a few stares and excited squeals following us as we walk through the lobby. Outside, a black stretch limo waits.

"Party time, bitches!" Theo shouts, standing with his entire torso out of the open moon roof, a bottle of champagne in his hand as he holds both his arms straight up in the air.

No doubt, that's going to be in the tabloids tomorrow.

Eric's voice carries through the windows. "Theo, I swear to God, if you pop that bottle and get us wet, I'm going to toss you out the window on the way."

"Rude!" Theo gasps, but then he disappears inside as Connor chuckles. The driver opens the door for us as we approach, and I try my best to ignore the flashing lights and shouts of our names as we climb in.

Back home in Charlotte, the attention isn't too bad, because we've been ingrained in the community for so long. But out here, in LA, on a night like tonight…

Well… the paparazzi are vultures, and the crowds are celebrity searching.

We get settled in our seats after a few one-armed hugs and fist bumps, and I let my eyes sweep over the guys. Theo and Dante just celebrated their second anniversary, after Theo planned the most extra wedding of the century. Tonight, both are more subdued in matching navy-blue suits. Eric and Dmitri are wearing black, with pastel pink ties and pocket squares to celebrate the upcoming birth of their daughter.

Their surrogate is six months along, and it caused a massive argument between them. Eric wanted to bring her so their little girl could be present, while Dmitri put his foot down and said flying would be too dangerous.

Dmitri won.

Life, in general, has slowed down. We haven't toured since our international one three years ago, but between me and Eric, the creative juices have been flowing. We've released two new albums and a barrel full of singles that have done better than any of us could have expected.

There's been no scandal or spotlight-stealing moments, and right now we're enjoying the life we've built for ourselves.

"Are you ready for this?" Eric asks, bouncing his legs underneath him. His hair's gotten longer, his blonde curls swooping over his forehead and curtaining his eyes. Without even looking, Dmitri reaches over and pushes it out of his face, and I smile at the familiarity in the touch.

"Ready as I'm going to be," I say, mirroring my words to Connor earlier.

"Come on, guys, rub the lucky charm," Theo says, running his hands over Dante's head as he scowls.

"Please don't," he counters, raising a brow and narrowing his eyes as he moves them between us in a pointed glare.

The rest of the drive is filled with excited chatter, and nerves take flight in my stomach as we arrive. "Alright, boys." Eric flashes one of his giant smiles that lets him get away with so much. "Let's do this."

The driver opens the door, and we're hit with an onslaught of voices and flashing lights as we step onto the red carpet. It's a dizzying storm of people shouting and cameras clicking, hands outstretched as fans try to get our attention and reporters closing in, looking for a quote. Connor squeezes my hand and grounds me, and I glance up at him with a thankful smile.

If you asked me tomorrow what happened between the time we stepped out of that limo and the time we were guided to our seats, I couldn't tell you. The chaos is a blur that my mind shuts out, but inside the arena, it's a little calmer.

Theo is in heaven, gushing and gasping over every famous face that glances his direction. He gets so worked up by the handful of celebrities that approach us, I'm convinced he's going to faint. We manage to get him seated, but he remains restless, bouncing in his chair while frantically waving at several musicians who grin and wave back.

He's still impossible not to love.

Overhead lights dim, and my hands are nervous, fiddling with my suit and buttons until Connor takes my hand and winds it through his. I squeeze him, silently thanking him again, as I inhale a deep breath and center myself.

The Grammys.

The largest awards possible for a musician, and we're here.

We're here.

Us.

Five jackass guys from Charlotte, who started with a dream we never thought we'd fulfill.

The announcer's words are a blur as the show starts, but I pull my cues from the audience and laugh when I'm supposed to. My heart pounds in my chest as the nominations begin, and I reach to grab Eric's hand beside me. He holds Dmitri's, who begrudgingly holds Dante's on his other side, and Theo ends our chain of support as we hold on for dear life.

"Now for our most anticipated award of the night—Album of the Year!" Nerves buzz between us, knees knocking, and controlled breaths being forced from our noses as we all fight this impending panic that tries to settle deep in our bellies.

Hearing our band listed as a nominee is surreal, and I'm not convinced I won't wake up and find that this is a dream. The dramatic pause seems to go on forever, and beside me, Eric groans, "Just spit it out already."

"And the winner is… Falling Absent with their third studio album, Faultlines."

For a second, we all sit there, speechless, as the words sink in. Connor's grip on my hand is a vise as he leans over, placing an ecstatic kiss on my lips. "You did it, sweetheart!"

We did it.

We did it.

A burst of surprised laughter escapes my throat as Theo shatters the silence, pumping his fist in the air with a triumphant whoop as chuckles ripple through the audience. It's dreamlike, floating in the clouds, as we take the stage. An ocean of faces swims in front of us as Eric accepts the trophy.

Tears fill my eyes as he rattles off our laundry list of people to thank, and his eyes are shining as he turns to face us. "But most of all, I'd like to thank these guys… my brothers. My best friends. The men who have had each other's backs through this crazy life. I wouldn't want to be here with anyone else."

He leaves the mic, and we fall together, wrapping each other in a giant hug, and just for a moment, we're no longer on that stage. We're standing in that dusty garage again, dreaming of the day we might be something more.

We made it.

We're here.

And I wouldn't trade a single step of this journey for anything in the world.