“What’s a music dance break?” Logan and I said in unison.
They both ignored us. “Kellan, no. It’s been a long day,” Erika disagreed. “And like you said, I need to study…”
“No. It’s happening. Music dance break.”
“But,’’ she groaned.
“I have cancer,” he said.
Her mouth dropped open and she smacked him in the arm. “Did you just play the cancer card on me?”
His smile grew. “I did.”
I waited to see Erika yell at him, to tell him how his words hurt her, but instead she smiled. They exchanged glances and looks that only they understood, and she nodded once. “Fine. One song. One, Kellan.”
I’d never seen him smile so big. “One song!”
“Our song,” she ordered.
He hurried out of the room, leaving a very confused me, and slimy Logan standing there. Then he came out with two conga drums, and two rain sticks, handing one to me, and the other to Logan.
“What’s going on?” Logan asked. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this?”
Erika stared at Logan as if he was a complete baboon. She took the stick from his grasp, and turned it upside down, making the rain sound. She handed it back to him.
“Duh, Lo,” I mocked.
He flipped me off.
Butterflies formed.
That was nothing new.
Kellan sat in front of the conga drums and started playing them. It took me a second to pick up on the beat of the song, but when it clicked in my head, my heart melted for the type of love my sister and Kellan had. He was playing Ingrid Michaelson’s song, “The Way I Am.”
Their song.
Kellan sang the first verse to Erika as she smiled, swaying back and forth. Logan and I added in the rain sticks, and both began to dance with Erika, as Kellan pounded against the congas.
Erika sang the second verse, and the love between her and Kellan filled the house with light as the words of the song fell from her tongue. Words about loving one another no matter the pain, words about being there for each other even when walking through the flames of life.
It was beautiful.
When we reached the long musical moment with no lyrics, Logan took both Erika’s and my hands, and spun us around, still wearing his towel, still with green goop dripping off his hair. Then, the room grew quiet when Erika began to sing the final verse—the verse that made tears fill everyone’s eyes. She sang the words about loving him when he lost all his hair, as she ran her fingers through his locks, leaning her forehead against Kellan’s lips. He kissed her gently, and they finished singing the lyrics together, as one.
The last noise heard was Logan’s rain stick dying down.
“Wow,” he said, wrapping his hand over his mouth, staring at his brother and Erika. “You two are fucking perfect.”
Erika laughed lightly before looking at Kellan. “I don’t want to marry you.”
He sighed. “Yes you do.”
“No. Well, yeah, I do. But not until you’re better. Not until you’re healthy. We’ll wait. We’ll kick cancer’s ass. Then you’ll marry my ass.”
He pulled her close to him, kissing her hard. “I’m going to marry the hell out of you.”
“Heck yeah you are.”
“Oh my God. Get a room,” Logan moaned, rolling his eyes. “I’m going to go wash this crap out of my hair.”
“Speaking of…” Kellan cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes. “Do you guys think you could do something for me?”
***
Logan shook his head back and forth with disgust. “This is a terrible idea.”
“For the first time ever, Logan and I agree on something,” Erika said, tossing her hands up in shock.
“I say just go for it.” The four of us were scrunched in the bathroom, a pair of hair clippers in my hand.
“Thank you, Alyssa! Finally, someone on my side. Besides, babe,” Kellan turned to Erika with a big grin. “A ton of people are shaving their heads now.”
“Well, he’s not wrong there,” Logan agreed. “It’s kind of what people do in Hollywood. Shaved heads is the new trend.”
“Then you shave yours,” Erika challenged, taking the clippers from my grasp, then holding them out to Logan.
His eyes widened with horror, and he held a finger up to her. “You watch your language.”
“But Logan’s right. A ton of celebrities have shaved their heads for roles,” Kellan tried explaining to his panicked fiancée.
“Name some.”
“Bryan Cranston!” I said. “For Breaking Bad.”
“Joseph Gordon-Levitt did in 50/50!” Logan tossed in.
“I’m sorry, can we not name actors who were playing terminally-ill patients when they shaved their heads?” Erika requested. Fair enough.
“The Rock!”
“Hugh Jackman!”
“Matt Damon!”
“Jake Gyllenhaal—twice,” Logan exclaimed.
“Really?” Kellan asked. “Twice?”
“Jarhead and End of Watch.”
“Bad ass,” Kellan nodded, holding out his fist, which Logan fist bumped.
“Total bad ass.”
What losers.
“You guys.” I stood up straight and turned on the clippers. “It is time.”
Erika held her breath and covered her eyes. “Okay. Do it!”
“Do it!” Kellan exclaimed.
“Do it! Do it!” Logan chanted.
So I did it.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Logan
“What are you doing here?” Alyssa asked, opening her front door, finding me standing there with a brand new door and a tool kit.
“I couldn’t help but notice the few times that I’ve come to your house that there was some work that needed to be done.”
“What are you talking about?” She smiled. “This house is the definition of perfection.”
I cocked an eyebrow, walked over to her porch railing, and pulled it straight up, seeing how nothing was securing it to the steps of the porch. She giggled. “Okay, so it’s not perfect. It’s also not your job to fix.” She bit her bottom lip. “Are you wearing a tool belt?”
“I’m definitely wearing a tool belt, which makes it my job to fix. So, if you could please step aside and let me put a door on your bathroom, that’d be great.” I spent the next six hours fixing things around her place, and she helped me hammer a few things into place. The last thing I did was climb on top of her roof, and try to patch up a few spots.