Kate and Jeff brought out the buckets of beer and champagne, and paper plates overflowing with appetizers. The group sat on folding chairs and towels and chatted loosely, as though people got married on the spur of the moment every day. As though the groom weren’t one of the most recognizable people in all of country music. Jake had brought out speakers, so they listened to music on his phone and stared out at the blackness of the ocean. “Sorry to ruin your girls’ weekend,” Dylan said to Suzanne, who looked more relaxed in the firelight than Rebecca even thought it possible for Suzanne to be. “Sorry to ruin your big wedding,” she said, kicking his bare foot with hers. “Do you want to hear your song?” “What?” “I’ve been writing a song for our wedding. It’s not finished, but…” Dylan picked up his guitar and began picking out a few chords. His voice was melodic and perfect, even without rehearsal. “Baby put your hair up, or wear it down, or shave your head…”
