I laugh, surprising myself. “What do you want, Darian? Not what you think you should want, or what’s best for your career. What do you actually want?”
He’s quiet for a long moment. “I want to teach Lily guitar and watch her discover music. I want to write more songs with you, even though you’ll probably fight me on every chord progression. I want Tuesday night dinners and fixing things at the venue and all the ordinary moments that aren’t glamorous but feel right.”
“What about Rex Lawson?”
“There will be other albums. Other opportunities.” He turns to face me fully. “But there’s only one you. One Lily. One chance to see where this goes.”
“I’m scared,” I admit. “I’m scared of trusting you. Scared of Lily getting attached and then losing you. Scared of falling for someone who might choose music over us.”
“I’m scared too. Scared of not being enough. Scared of screwing this up. Scared of wanting something I can’t control.”
“So what do we do?”
“We be scared together. We take it slow. We don’t make any promises we can’t keep.” He reaches for my hand, and I let him take it. “And I call Laura tomorrow and tell her thanks but no thanks.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“Yes, I do. Not for you. For me. Because I’m tired of running toward things I don’t want just because they look good on paper.”
I squeeze his hand. “Lily will be thrilled about the guitar lesson.”
“Just Lily?”
“Maybe her mom too.”
We sit there, hands linked, neither of us sure what comes next but both finally willing to find out. Zara was right—we’d been so busy protecting ourselves that we were guaranteeing failure.
But maybe, just maybe, we can choose something different. Something scarier but more honest.
“Play me the song,” I say suddenly.
“What song?”
“Our song. The one we recorded. I want to hear it again. Just us, no studio, no pressure.”
He gets his guitar, and for the next hour, we play through the song again, taking turns with verses, finding the harmony we discovered that night in the studio, remembering why we work so well together musically.
When Lily texts asking if Darian’s coming tomorrow, I text back:Yes. He’ll be there.
It’s not a promise of forever. It’s just a promise of tomorrow.
But for now, that’s enough.
darian
. . .
The Martin feels heavierthan usual as I stand backstage at The Songbird. Through the curtain gap, I can see them. Rye sits at a corner table with Lily beside her, both of them looking toward the empty stage like they’re waiting for something. For me.
My phone buzzes against my thigh. Laura’s number lights up the screen for the third time today, and I finally answer.
“You’re making a mistake,” she says without preamble.
“No, I’m making a choice.”
“Same thing when it’s the wrong one. Rex’s team is waiting for an answer.”
I watch Lily lean against her mother’s shoulder, pointing at something on the stage. Probably the new mic stand we installed yesterday. “Tell them thanks, but I’m staying in Nashville.”
