Chapter 3

I did think about it. I thought about it nearly every night for the next three weeks. Some nights, I even dreamed about it. By mid-December, I still hadn’t made a decision about my future with the Backstreet Boys, but it remained on my mind as I got ready to fly to Los Angeles for AJ’s wedding.

As I packed my bags – a painstakingly slow process with paralyzed hands – I thought about everything I would have to bring with me if I were to spend weeks on the road. Besides the usual clothing, toiletries, and entertainment, I also needed my medical supplies and adaptive equipment, including catheters, medications, a transfer board, and my portable commode and shower chair. It was a lot of stuff to carry from place to place.

When I called the airport, hotel, and rental company to confirm my reservations and make sure everything would be ready for my arrival, I thought about all the special requests our tour manager would have to make when arranging travel and accommodations for me. I required wheelchair accessible vehicles with ramps or lifts, hotel rooms with roll-in showers, and an additional seat and bed for the caregiver who would have to come with me. There were a lot of things to think about.

While I wheeled myself through the airport with Mason, Dawn, and Keith, I thought about how hard it would be to travel every day. Even with help, parenting a child wasn’t easy at home, let alone on the road. Everything I did required a lot more effort and energy than it would have before my injury. I didn’t know if I had enough stamina to be both a good dad and a good entertainer.

But once I finally landed in L.A. and met up with the other guys at the Beverly Hills Hotel, where both the ceremony and reception were being held, I realized how much I had missed them. “Your hair’s getting long,” I said as Nick leaned down to hug me.

“Yeah, I’m growing it out,” he replied, fingering the ends of his blond hair, which almost reached his collar.

“Clearly, he was inspired by your hairstyle, Kevin,” Howie added, and we all laughed: my hair was the exact same length as Nick’s and even parted on the same side. Personally, I thought the style suited me better than him, but I would never tell him that.

“Looking good, brother,” I said, giving Nick a nod. Aside from his shaggy hair, he looked great – tall and lean in his black tuxedo. Brian and Howie were looking dapper as well.

“There ain’t no party like a Backstreet wedding,” Howie joked as we were ushered to our seats in the back garden.

“Especially when it’s Boner’s wedding,” added Brian, raising his eyebrows.

I chuckled to myself, remembering Dawn wearing an identical expression when she’d opened up the wedding invitation, which was black with gothic red script that looked like it was dripping blood. By comparison, the ceremony space looked classy and surprisingly tame, with a carpet of white rose petals leading to a gazebo that was decorated with white hydrangeas, which would serve as the altar.

AJ took his place inside the gazebo, wearing an all-black suit with a bright red bow-tie, red shoes, and a black hat. I was so used to seeing him in hats that it didn’t faze me at all to see him wearing one at his wedding, but I couldn’t help wondering what his head looked like underneath. Tired of going bald, AJ had undergone a hair transplant back in October, but his new hair must not have grown in time for the wedding.

Wearing an all-black wedding gown, his bride walked down the aisle to a Guns ‘n’ Roses classic, “November Rain.” “Nice,” I heard Dawn whisper behind me. I glanced back in time to see her give Rochelle a thumbs up and a grin of approval. Rochelle flashed a nervous smile beneath the birdcage veil of her headpiece, which had red rose petals that contrasted with her dark hair and dress while coordinating with the red accents in AJ’s outfit. Together, they were a perfect match.

My heart swelled with big brotherly pride as AJ exchanged vows with the woman he loved. Looking into her eyes, he gave a long, heartfelt speech that detailed how he felt about her. After he was done, Rochelle simply said, “Ditto,” earning a round of laughter from the guests. I smiled with tears in my eyes. As the oldest member of the Backstreet Boys, I had watched the younger guys grow up. Being there to witness AJ getting married meant the world to me. But there were so many other moments I had missed in the five years I’d been away.

“Hey, how was the cruise?” I asked at the reception, as we waited for the wedding party to finish taking photographs. Dawn had taken Mason back up to our hotel room, but Keith and I were seated at a table with Nick, Brian and Leighanne, Howie and Leigh, and the rest of the Backstreet family. The hotel’s beautiful Crystal Ballroom had been completely transformed to fit AJ and Rochelle’s goth wedding theme. The walls were draped with gauzy red curtains, which matched the red velvet chair covers. The round tables were dressed in long, black cloths with hand-painted “blood” dripping down the sides and topped with large bouquets of red and white roses. It wasn’t to my taste, but it was totally AJ.

“Awesome.” Nick was the first to answer my question. “Well, I had fun, anyway,” he added with a sheepish smile. “Lauren didn’t love that I dragged her along.”

I laughed. “Is she still getting used to life as a Backstreet Boy’s girl?” His girlfriend, Lauren, was one of Rochelle’s bridesmaids, so she wasn’t sitting with us.

Nick shrugged. “I guess. To be fair, some of the fans have been pretty hard on her.”

I frowned. “I hate to hear that. She knows they’re just jealous, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah, but she still gets her feelings hurt when she sees some of the hateful stuff they say about her online. Thankfully, no one was rude to her face on the cruise.”

“Well, that’s a relief. So y’all had a good time?” I asked, looking around the table at the others.

“I had a great time,” Howie said with a grin, raising his glass. “Maybe a little too great. It’s been two weeks, and I’m still trying to recover.”

Nick snickered. “Yeah, Howie closed down the deck party every night.”

“Good for you, man,” I said, grinning back at Howie. “Sounds like fun.”

“It was. I dunno if you saw, but we dressed up like Sphynkter for Eighties Night,” said Brian.

“Sphynkter? Oh, man… that’s awesome.” I smiled, imagining the four of them dressed up like the fictional eighties hair band we had played in the music video for “Just Want You to Know.” “I wish I coulda been there for that.”

“Yeah, I wish you coulda been there, too, cuz.” Brian gave me a significant glance. “Have you given any more thought to what we talked about at Thanksgiving?”

“I have…” I took another look around the table, wondering what he had told the other guys since the last time I’d talked to him. Judging by their blank expressions, not much. “I haven’t made up my mind yet, though.”

“Made up your mind about what?” asked Nick.

“Whether or not to come back to the group,” Brian answered before I could.

“Really??” Nick’s head whipped from Brian back to me, his blue eyes round. “Are you actually considering coming back?”

“Shh!” I hissed, hoping no one at the tables around ours had overheard him. I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t want anyone else knowing what we were discussing. In a low voice, I continued, “Brian and I had a conversation about it at Thanksgiving, and I told him I would think about it. So, yeah.” I shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about it. Would you be okay with me coming back?”

“Are you kidding? Hell, yeah, I would!”

I smiled at Nick’s enthusiastic response, then turned to Howie. “What about you, D?”

“Absolutely!” he agreed. “We always said we’d leave the door open for you whenever you want to come back. Nothing’s changed.”

I snorted. “A lot has changed,” I said, looking down at my wheelchair. “It wouldn’t be the same as before. But if you think it could still work…”

“We’ll make it work,” Howie replied firmly. “Don’t even worry about that. If you want to come back, we’re behind you one hundred percent. And I’m pretty sure I can speak for AJ in saying he will be, too.”

I glanced back up to see Nick and Brian nodding in agreement. “Well, thanks, fellas,” I said, reaching for my drink. “That means a lot.” I wrapped both hands around my glass and raised it carefully to my lips. As I tilted my head back to take a sip, I noticed the Boys’ manager, Jenn, watching me from across the table. Swallowing, I set the glass back down. “What are your thoughts, Jenn?” I asked her directly. The guys’ opinions were the only ones that really mattered to me, but if I didn’t have their management team’s support as well, it was going to cause problems for the group moving forward.

“Honestly?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m thinking this would be a publicity goldmine for you guys. I mean, can you imagine? Every major talk show, tabloid, and entertainment network would want to cover your big comeback. They’d all be clamoring for an exclusive interview. I can see the headlines now. ‘Backstreet’s Back: Kevin Richardson returns to the stage after a life-altering injury.’” She waved her hand across her face, mapping out an imaginary magazine cover.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I muttered. “If I did come back, I wouldn’t want everyone making a big deal out of it – making it all about my injury and the damn wheelchair. But I know they would.”

She shrugged. “Well, of course, they would. Can you think of any other boy bands – or any bands, period – who have a member in a wheelchair? It would be a big deal!”

She was right. I couldn’t. That fact alone filled me with fresh doubt.

“Think about what an inspiration you’d be to other people with disabilities,” Brian added, “if you were to put yourself out there again. You could pave the way for others to follow in your footsteps – or tire tracks.” He grinned.

I grimaced. “I don’t wanna be seen as some kind of poster child for spinal cord injuries… or the token wheelchair guy that was just thrown back into the group for the sake of diversity.”

“Our fans wouldn’t see it that way,” Howie insisted. “It might be different if we weren’t already famous, but people know us. They would know better. You were part of the group before your injury, and you have every right to be after.”

“Thanks. I just wouldn’t want people to think it was a publicity stunt, you know? We’re better than that.”

The other guys nodded, but before we could continue our conversation, the DJ came on the mic. “Ladies and gentlemen, can I have your attention, please? It’s time to introduce the people you came to see tonight. Put your hands together for… the wedding party!”

Everyone turned toward the door to watch as the members of the wedding party made their grand entrance into the ballroom, two at a time. The groomsmen were all wearing Mexican wrestling masks with their black and white tuxes. I didn’t understand why, but I laughed along with everyone else as they escorted the bridesmaids in. Nick waved at Lauren, who looked beautiful in her long, white gown. The bride and groom were the last to enter. Everyone around me stood up and applauded as Rochelle and AJ walked into the ballroom, arm in arm. I couldn’t stand or clap, so I settled for cheering from my chair.

Dinner followed, a four-course meal that included ricotta-stuffed gnocchi, Caprese salad, filet mignon or sea bass, and a choice of cheesecake, sorbet, or ice cream for dessert. Though I preferred steak, I went with the fish, which was easier for me to cut, while I chose the cheesecake purely because it was the least likely to drip. I still felt uncomfortable eating in public, especially in front of this many people. I was afraid I would drop my drink or spill food down the front of the white dress shirt I wore under my black suit. Thankfully, I managed to make it through all four courses without making a mess.

After dinner, the best man and maid of honor made their toasts. Each of us guys had agreed to give a short speech as well. Howie, who had known AJ the longest, went first, followed by Brian, whose voice cracked as he gave AJ and Rochelle marriage advice mixed with his usual humor. The other wedding guests might have thought he was getting choked up, but I knew better. Nick went next with a weird, rambling speech full of Beetlejuice references, which I guess suited the wedding’s Tim Burton aesthetic. Finally, it was my turn.

“Well, that was a tough act to follow,” I began, gripping the microphone tightly between my balled-up hands as I grinned over at Nick. I was nervous, but I tried to hide it. This is no different than talking to the crowd at a concert, I told myself, uncomfortably aware of the hundreds of people who were staring at me, the ones in the back craning their necks to see past the heads of the people sitting in front of them. I ignored them all and focused instead on AJ’s smiling face. “It feels kinda surreal to be sitting here tonight, celebrating AJ and Rochelle’s marriage. Some would say they’ve had a whirlwind romance, but trust me when I tell you it’s been a long, winding road to get to this point – for AJ, anyway. I’ve known this guy since he was just fourteen; I watched him grow up. We’ve seen each other go through a lot of life’s ups and downs: first loves, break-ups, deaths in the family, and the birth of our music careers. I was there for him when he went to rehab, and he was there for me after… after my accident.”

My throat tightened; I had almost said “after my wife died,” but bringing up Kristin in front of all those people felt too painful for me – and too depressing for them during what was meant to be a happy occasion. Clearing my throat, I continued, “It’s a blessing to be here with him today as he begins the next chapter of his life with this beautiful woman.” I turned my attention to AJ’s blushing bride. “Rochelle, you’ve managed to do what no other woman has been able to do: actually get this man to the altar and put a ring on it.”

I paused as people chuckled. AJ just shrugged and nodded, flashing me a sheepish grin. He’d been engaged once before, but a relapse and infidelity had led his ex-fiancee to call off the wedding.

“I’m a firm believer in the idea that everything happens for a reason,” I went on. “We don’t always understand the reason right away, but looking back now, it’s obvious to me that the reason none of AJ’s previous relationships worked out is because he was waiting for you.”

AJ nodded again and wrapped his arm around Rochelle, who turned to him with a radiant smile and touched her forehead to his.

“I wish the two of you nothing but peace, love, and happiness in your future,” I told them. “But before y’all start a family, I better warn you right now, Rochelle: AJ doesn’t do well with poopy diapers.”

“He’s not wrong!” AJ said loudly, laughing along with everyone else.

“Aside from that, he’s gonna be a great husband, and I know how lucky he is to have you as his wife. Congratulations to you both. Let’s give it up for the happy couple, Mr. and Mrs. Alexander James McLean!”

I gave the DJ back his microphone, and he graciously placed my champagne glass in my hands so I could raise it over my head to complete the toast. I saw AJ and Rochelle clink their glasses of sparkling cider together before they took a sip. As far as I could tell, they were the only adults in the room who weren’t drinking alcohol. Some of the guests may have wondered if Rochelle was already pregnant, but I knew she was just abstaining to support AJ in his own sobriety.

“Great toast, buddy,” AJ said afterward, clapping me on the back. “Thanks for doing that. I know it couldn’t have been easy for you to get in front of all these people and give a speech about love after everything you’ve been through.”

“It wasn’t,” I admitted. “But I meant every word I said. I really am happy for you and Rochelle.”

He smiled. “Thanks. I really liked what you said about everything happening for a reason and waiting for the right person. I hope there’s another person out there waiting for you, too.”

My throat tightened again as I forced myself to return the smile. I knew he meant well, but even after being widowed for almost four years, the idea of remarrying or even dating again made me break out in a cold sweat. Or maybe that was just my body telling me I needed to use the bathroom. In any case, rather than inspire me to start looking for the right person to spend the rest of my life with, attending AJ’s wedding only made me miss Kristin more.

Blinking back tears, I excused myself to the men’s room. It was empty except for Nick, who was standing at one of the urinals. “Oh, hey, Kev,” he said when he turned around and saw me. He flashed me a smile as he finished buttoning his fly. “You okay?”

I quickly composed myself and nodded. “Yup. All good.” I wheeled past him, heading for the handicapped stall.

As I went inside, I heard him clear his throat. “Do you, uh, need any help?” he asked awkwardly.

No matter how well-intentioned it was, I had come to hate that question, although I appreciated when people asked instead of just assuming I did. I couldn’t blame Nick, though. He had lived with me for the first four months after I left the rehab hospital, when I really had needed help with almost everything, including the bathroom stuff. Thankfully, those days were behind us both.

“Nah, man, I’ve got it. Believe it or not, I’m actually pretty independent these days,” I replied, smiling as I turned around to face him. “I dunno if you’ve noticed or not, but… no more leg bag.” I patted my pant leg, which used to hide the catheter bag I had worn around the clock. “I can self-cath now.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Really? That’s awesome, dude! I didn’t realize.”

“Yup. I’ve just gotta remember to do it every few hours, especially when I’m drinking. Don’t wanna have any accidents.”

Nick gave a nod of understanding. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said, heading toward the sink as I turned and rolled into the stall. I heard water running, which hopefully meant he was washing his hands. I reached behind my chair to retrieve my backpack and rummaged through it, assembling the supplies I needed on my lap. It took me about ten minutes to do my business, by which time Nick was long gone from the bathroom.

I met up with him and the other guys back at our table just as the DJ was announcing the first dance. We all turned our chairs to watch as AJ and Rochelle walked hand-in-hand onto the dance floor. He wrapped his arm around her, and she rested her hand on his shoulder as a beautiful piano ballad began to play. I wasn’t familiar with the song, “All This Time” by OneRepublic, but when I listened to the lyrics, I realized it fit their relationship perfectly.

“Take all the time lost, all the days that I cost. Take what I took and give it back to you.” AJ sang along as he and Rochelle rotated slowly on the spot. “All this time, we were waiting for each other. All this time, I was waiting for you. We got all these words, can’t waste them on another. So I’m straight in a straight line, running back to you.”

A lump rose in my throat as I watched them, remembering my first dance with Kristin at our wedding. We had danced to Savage Garden’s “I Knew I Loved You,” which had a similar line about “waiting all my life” for the right person. I had envisioned the two of us growing old together, never once imagining I would be widowed and wheelchair-bound before I turned forty. It left a bitter taste in my mouth, but I swallowed hard and tried to be happy for AJ and Rochelle.

After their dance, the DJ put on a fast-paced party track and invited everyone to join in the fun. Nick jumped right up and went to dance with Lauren when she and the rest of the wedding party drifted onto the dance floor. He waved to Howie and Leigh, who soon followed. Even Brian and Leighanne eventually made their way to the dance floor, leaving me alone on my side of the table.

Keith came over, carrying a beer in each hand, and set one down in front of me. “How you doin’, man?” he asked as he sat down next to me, leaning close to my ear so I could hear him over the loud music.

“I’m okay,” I replied. “It’s kinda hard being here, but I knew it would be. It’s the first wedding I’ve been to since I lost Kristin. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, though.”

The last wedding I had attended was Howie and Leigh’s, less than a month before the accident. Watching everyone on the dance floor, I couldn’t help but remember how much fun we’d had that night, how happy we had been. I would have given almost anything to go back to that night and dance with my wife again. Sometimes, I still dreamed of doing just that, though the dreams were less frequent than they had been in the days following her death.

Keith took a sip of his drink. “I know what you mean. Still sucks, though, not having her here. But, hey, at least you have me as your wedding date. Wanna dance?”

I chuckled. Keith’s wife had stayed home with their kids in Kentucky, so we’d joked about being each other’s “plus one.” “Thanks, but I think I’ll sit this one out.”

“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug.

For a few songs, we sat back and drank our beers while the rest of our friends danced. But when the DJ invited everyone to do the “Macarena,” Keith looked over at me. “Shall we?”

I shook my head. The last thing I wanted to do was make a fool of myself on the dance floor.

“Aw, c’mon, Kev, you can do this one. I know it’s cheesy, but so what? Let’s go.” He stood up, beckoning for me to follow him.

I hesitated for a second, then reluctantly rolled after him.

The dance floor was crowded. At first, I felt self-conscious and claustrophobic, sitting so much lower than the people standing around me. But when I realized none of them were really looking at me, I started to relax a little. I watched them for a few seconds until I found my rhythm, then followed their repeated movements. Right hand, left hand, right hand, left hand, from my shoulders to my head to my hips.

Keith was right: this was one dance I could still do, since the moves were mostly all in the arms. I remembered doing it unironically in German discos and Canadian nightclubs during the “Macarena” dance craze in the mid-nineties, which had coincided with the Backstreet Boys’ first big tour. I looked a lot different doing it now, considering I could no longer shake my hips or fully straighten my arms and fingers. But when I thought back to the first few weeks after my accident, when I could barely move my arms at all, I felt grateful for the function I had.

As everyone else wiggled their hips and jumped to one side, I rocked my upper body back and forth and rotated my chair by pushing one wheel forward while pulling the other wheel backward. After a few times through the sequence, I realized I was actually having fun. I hadn’t danced like this since Howie’s wedding.

“See?” Keith said afterward, patting my shoulder. “You still got it!”

I just laughed and shook my head. “I need another drink!” I shouted back over the loud music. He followed me off the dance floor and over to the bar to get a fresh beer before we went back to our table.

After a few more songs, the DJ came back on the mic. “All right, folks, I don’t know how the groom’s gonna feel about this next one, but the maid of honor, Priscilla, asked me to play it. Apparently, it’s one of Rochelle’s favorite songs. Ladies, this one’s for you!”

I started laughing as soon as I recognized the intro to the song. “Hey, hey,” Justin Timberlake’s nasally voice crooned through the speakers before the rest of *NSYNC joined in. “Bye, bye, bye!”

AJ pretended to storm off the dance floor in protest. Brian, Nick, and Howie followed his lead, but I knew it was all an act. Although we resented Lou Pearlman for creating *NSYNC as a direct copy of us, the whole boy band rivalry had been equally manufactured by our record company and MTV. For all I knew, AJ had added this song to the reception playlist himself.

“Can you believe my wife’s a bigger *NSYNC fan than she is BSB?” he said, shaking his head as he threw himself into an empty seat next to me.

“Her taste in music may be questionable, but she’s got some good moves,” I replied, watching as Rochelle busted out the “Bye Bye Bye” dance in her wedding dress, surrounded by her sister Priscilla and a few of her girl friends. I noticed Lauren was not among them; she had sat down next to Nick on the other side of our table. They laughed together as they sipped their drinks. “Y’all better get out there and show everybody who the superior boy band is on the next song, though. Have the DJ play ‘Backstreet’s Back.’”

AJ snickered. “My thoughts exactly. You’ve gotta come with us, though. We can’t win against *NSYNC with only four guys.”

I gave him a skeptical look. “I’m not gonna be able to contribute much from this chair.”

“I dunno why not. I saw you doing the Macarena, dude; you looked good out there!”

“That dance is mostly arms.”

“So’s the ‘Backstreet’s Back’ dance – at least, the parts people remember,” AJ pointed out. “You can do the hand motions from your chair. Just having you out there with us would make my whole wedding day.”

Well, how could I say no to that? “All right… if you insist,” I finally agreed.

AJ grinned and gleefully clapped his hands. Then he got up and circled the table, whispering in each of the other guys’ ears. I chugged the rest of my beer as the last “Bye bye!” reverberated through the ballroom.

By the time I finished, AJ had already sauntered over to the DJ’s booth. He took the microphone from the DJ and said, “Nice dance moves, ladies, but I think it’s time me and the Boys showed you all how it’s done.”

The DJ pressed a button, and the extended version of “Everybody (Backstreet’s Back)” blared out of the speakers. The party guests reacted right away, a round of cheers and jeers rising out of the crowd as Brian, Howie, and Nick joined AJ in the middle of the dance floor. I set my empty glass down on the table, took a deep breath, and wheeled myself through a gap in the crowd that had gathered around the edge of the floor.

The cheers grew louder as we spread out, forming a line: AJ in the middle, flanked by Nick and Brian, with Howie and me at either end. I was glad that AJ and Rochelle had banned cameras and cell phones from the festivities, though the professional photographer was busy snapping plenty of pictures of us. The alcohol coursing through my bloodstream took the edge off my anxiety, but I still felt uncomfortably aware of all the eyes that were on me.

Relax, I told myself. These are AJ and Rochelle’s friends. They’re family. It’s fine.

I looked down the line. The four other guys were already dancing to the instrumental music, throwing their arms in the air as they encouraged the crowd to chant along during the “Whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo!” parts. I followed their lead, feeling like a fool as I waved my arms from my wheelchair.

“Everybody…” Brian’s recorded voice rang out through the ballroom. “Rock your body…” Beside me, Brian’s lips were moving, but I couldn’t tell if he was actually singing or just mouthing the words. “Everybody… rock your body right. Backstreet’s back, all right!”

I rocked my upper body back and forth to the beat as AJ sang along loudly to his solo. “Oh my god, we’re back again! Brothers, sisters, everybody sing! Gonna bring the flavor, show you how. Got a question for ya, better answer now.”

“Am I original?” Nick asked, gesturing toward himself.

“Yea-ah!” we all echoed.

“Am I the only one?” Brian added.

“Yeah-ah!”

“Am I sexual?” Nick did a seductive, grinding dance move, his hand drifting toward his crotch.

I laughed and shook my head as the crowd called out, “Yea-ah,” secretly jealous that he could still move that way.

“Am I everything you need? You better rock your body now! Everybody…”

It had been more than five years since I’d last done the full choreography to this song, but had it not been for my injury, I had no doubt that I still would have been able to perform it perfectly. The muscle memory was there; I remembered every move, but most of my body wouldn’t cooperate. My feet remained frozen on my foot plates, my fingers curled into loose fists as I did the arm motions. Much like with the Macarena, I was sure I didn’t look as sharp as I had before my injury, but no one seemed to mind. Everywhere I looked, I saw people with smiles on their faces, bobbing their heads to the music as they sang along.

“Everybody… rock your body right. Backstreet’s back, all right!”

At the end of the song, the ballroom exploded with cheers. “Give it up for the groom and his boys!” the DJ shouted as I sat there grinning.

AJ came over and bent down, gripping my shoulder as he spoke into my ear. “Thanks for doing that with me, bro.”

I smiled at him and nodded. “Anything for you, AJ. It was fun, actually.”

Overhearing, Brian grinned. “Imagine having fun like that every night,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“We’ll see,” I said, smiling back. I still hadn’t made a decision, and I wasn’t going to make one while I was drinking. But I felt better about the idea of going back to the group than I had before.

The bouquet and garter toss followed our impromptu performance, after which both AJ and Rochelle disappeared from the reception. “They didn’t just leave, did they?” Nick asked, looking around the ballroom. “They haven’t even cut the cake yet.” His eyes lingered longingly on the five-layer red and black wedding cake.

“Nick can’t wait to get some of that cake in his mouth,” Brian said, snickering.

“Damn right!” Nick replied. “Today’s my cheat day! I gotta go back on my diet tomorrow. My Dr. Phil episode airs this week; I can’t be stuffing my face with junk food while I’m watching myself talk about adopting a healthy lifestyle.”

“You’re doing Dr. Phil?” I asked in surprise as Brian and Howie laughed.

“Yeah… I did it a while ago, actually, but it’s finally airing on Monday,” said Nick.

“How was it? Was he hard on you?”

“No, it was great! He was actually really encouraging. He even offered me a book deal.”

“A book deal?” I repeated, raising my eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yeah, for real! I guess his son’s got his own publishing company that specializes in, like, health and wellness books. I told him about that self-help book you gave me years ago and how it really did help me once I finally sat down and read it. He said I should write my own book about my experiences.”

I smiled, touched that Nick was still telling people about the impact my gift had had on him. “Wow! That’s awesome, Nick! Are you gonna do it?”

He nodded. “I think so. We’re still ironing out all the details, but I wanna give it a shot. I mean, why not?” He paused, then chuckled. “Did you ever picture me becoming a published author?”

“Not in my wildest dreams,” I replied, laughing along with him. “But hey, I’m proud of you, little brother. You’ve come a long way in the last few years. Dr. Phil must have seen that, too.”

Nick grinned. “Thanks, bro. You know, you should write a book, too, about all the shit you’ve been through.”

I grimaced. “Yeah… no. I’m finally in a better place as far as accepting what happened to me. Writing about it would just bring back a bunch of bad memories I don’t wanna relive. Living through it the first time was hard enough, you know?”

He nodded. “I get that. It was just a thought.”

Before I could say anything else, the DJ came back on the mic, cutting off the song that had been playing. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m being told it’s time to cut the cake! Let’s get our lovely bride and groom back in here to do the honors!”

Heads began to turn toward the ballroom doors as the DJ struck up Aerosmith’s “Dude (Looks Like a Lady).” My jaw dropped when AJ strutted in wearing a black dress, complete with a corseted bodice and a long, poofy skirt made of layers upon layers of black tulle. Judging by the awkward way he was walking, he also had on high heels.

“Oh, AJ…” I heard Howie say as he laughed and shook his head. But AJ wasn’t the only one who had changed clothes: Rochelle had traded her wedding gown for a tailored black tuxedo, which she looked adorably chic in. Everyone hooted and hollered over their gender-swapped new outfits as they walked arm-in-arm over to the cake table.

I smiled as I watched them cut the cake and feed each other a piece, laughing as they wiped frosting on each other’s faces. They both looked so joyful and in love, but for me, it was a bittersweet moment. It made me happy to see my little brother finally find the “happily ever after” he deserved, but it also reminded me of how much I had lost. AJ and Rochelle had a whole lifetime of fun together to look forward to, while my future with Kristin had been cut short.

But, I reminded myself, that didn’t mean I couldn’t still have fun or find happiness. My life wasn’t over – and maybe my career wasn’t either.

The caterers came around to each table, carrying slices of cake on a tray. “What kind would you like, sir?” one of them asked me. “We have lemon, peanut butter cup, chocolate, red velvet, and marble.”

“Wow,” I said, my mouth watering as I looked at the selection. “So many choices…”

In the end, I went with the peanut butter cup cake, which was delicious. But, as for what to do about the Backstreet Boys, I still couldn’t make a decision.

***