Married Member
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Ongoing6h 33m
Last published Mon, Apr 12, 2021
Who said a girl can't marry her fellow bandmate?
Book 2 of the Sixth Member trilogy
Following Harry and Maddie's wedding, things start to perk up for both Rebecka and Niall, and Kristen and Louis, but what happens when Kristen has to go back home to the States?
What happens when Niall gets back with Rebecka?
What happens when Louis and Rebecka's mum is diagnosed?
What happens after Zayn leaves the band and limits his contact with his former band members?
Will life ever be the same again?
***
"Remember this place?"
"The place where we stargazed and said 'I love you' to each other for the first time?" I asked, memories of that night flooding my mind. "How could I forget?"
I looked around the clearing. The once-green leaves were now shades of red, orange, and yellow, making the clearing even more beautiful than in the summer.
"Yeah, we've made some pretty great memories," I said.
Niall took my hands. My electric blue eyes met Niall's sapphire blue eyes.
"Speaking of memories," Niall began. "I'd like to make one more, if you don't mind."
I watched Niall as he let go of my hands. Niall reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a smalll, black box. I let out a small gasp. Niall got down on his right knee and opened the box, revealing a beautiful square diamond ring. Everything froze at that exact moment. The sunset beside is seemed to stop. The rustling of leaves stopped, and my heartbeat seemed to go a thousand times faster once I realized what Niall was doing.
"Rebecka Anne Tomlinson," Niall began. "For the last five years we've known each other, we've been through a lot. When you became our unofficial sixth member, when the boys and I got in the car crash, when Harry and Maddie got married, when I was in my low point, when you officially became apart of the band, and many other times. So I just want to finish my turn in twenty questions and ask my final question. Rebecka Anne Tomlinson, will you make me the happiest man in the universe and marry me?"
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#589
liampayne
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πππππππ, niall horan
β π©π¦πͺπ’π―π’π«π π’ /Λπ©ΙͺπͺΙπ―Ιπ«π°/ ππ‘π§π’π π±π¦π³π’: π π£π’π³π’π―π’π‘ π°π±ππ±π’ π¬π£ πͺπ¦π«π‘ ππ¬π―π« π¬π£ π―π¬πͺππ«π±π¦π π£π¦π΅ππ±π¦π¬π«; πͺππ―π¨π’π‘ ππΆ π¬ππ°π’π°π°π¦π³π’ π±π₯π¬π²π€π₯π±π°, π©π¬π«π€π¦π«π€ π£π¬π― π’πͺπ¬π±π¦π¬π«ππ© π―π’π π¦ππ―π¬π π¦π±πΆ, ππ«π‘ ππ« ππ π₯π¦π«π€ π‘π’ππ’π«π‘π’π«π πΆ; β΄ π‘π’π³π¬π±π¦π¬π« π‘π―π’π°π°π’π‘ π¦π« π‘π’π©π²π°π¦π¬π« β "Then tell me," I rasp. "Tell me and I'll deal with it. I'll handle it. Just-don't shut me out." "I can't," she says again, voice breaking. "I can't tell you. I can't be with you. And I can't stand here and watch you break and know that I'm the reason." She swallows hard, her throat moving. "Please don't make me explain it. Please just... stop." I take a step toward her anyway, rain dripping from my eyelashes, my chest hollow. "I don't care if it kills me," I say, and it's not bravado; it's a man with nothing left to barter. "If that's the price, fine. At least then I get to be with you before it ends." She makes a small sound, half sob, half laugh, and it's the most human thing I've ever heard from her. "Don't say that," she whispers, almost fierce. "Don't ever say that." She holds my eyes for one last beat, lips parted like she might say something else - something that could undo all of this, something that could make the rain stop mattering. But she doesn't. Instead, she exhales, low and unsteady, and shakes her head. "I'm sorry," she says again, softer now, like a confession. Then she turns. And that's it.
"Yeah, well... I'm starting to think I got stood up." The bartender clicks his tongue, setting his towel down with a slow shake of his head. "Fucking tragic. Can't say I understand it. If I had a date with you, I'd be here an hour early, dressed to fucking impress, already working out ways to keep you entertained all night." I raise an eyebrow, half-smirking. "Smooth." "Don't flatter me yet, love. That was just the warm-up." He nods toward my half-finished wine. "Tell you what-since your bloke's clearly an idiot, this one's on the house." I blink. "Seriously?" He shrugs, like it costs him absolutely nothing. "What can I say? I've got a soft spot for beautiful people with shit luck." His smirk deepens. "Also, it's good fucking business. You stay longer, you order more, and I get to look like the hero. Everyone wins." I shake my head, laughing as he pours me another glass with the kind of effortless confidence that suggests he's done this a thousand times before-offered a pretty girl a free drink, flashed a dangerous grin, made her night a little less shit. He slides the glass toward me. "Louis, by the way." "Bee," I say, taking a sip.
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