“I will, thank you.” Lily gives her mom a hug and then gives me one.
“Did you know Levi is really famous? I saw lots of people asking for his autograph.”
I nod and realize I need to take this girl to LA and then she’ll think I’m really famous.
“He is,” I say, agreeing with her. “But he’s a cool guy. In the morning, ask him to take you horseback riding. You’ll love it.”
Her eyes widen and then she gives me another hug. “Have fun, kiddo.”
For the rest of the night, I sit at the table, drinking a few beers and chatting with other artists. Every so often, Rye checks in, but she’s busy. As soon as people heard Levi was in the building, they rushed to see him. Unfortunately for them, he’d already left, but I texted him and said he needs to do an impromptu show at The Songbird. He agreed right away.
Later after the venue closes, Rye and I sit on the empty stage, sharing a beer and looking out at the room where everything started.
“I meant it,” I tell her. “About letting you fall.”
“I know. That’s what scares me.”
“But?”
“But maybe it’s time to be scared of the right things.”
“Which are?”
“Missing out on something real because I was too afraid to risk it.”
I set down the beer, turning to face her fully. “We’re really doing this?”
“We’re really doing this.”
“Even though it’s complicated and messy and neither of us knows what we’re doing?”
“Especially because of that.”
We sit in comfortable silence, the empty venue holding our words like a secret.
“Hey,” Rye says suddenly. “That line in the song, about promises being replaced by presence?”
“Yeah?”
“That’s what this is, isn’t it? Not promising forever, just promising to show up.”
“Every day.”
“Every day.”
Would you ever let me stay? Would you ever let me fall?
Yes. Always yes.
rye
. . .
Six Months Later . . .
My hands won’t stop shaking.I stare at them like they belong to someone else, watching as they tremble against the vanity in my dressing room. The private showcase starts in twenty minutes. Three hundred people are waiting to hear me sing. Not at The Songbird where I’m safe behind the manager’s desk, but here, on a real stage, as an artist.
The door opens behind me, and I watch Darian’s reflection appear in the mirror. He doesn’t say anything at first, just comes up behind me and places his hands on my shoulders. The weight of them grounds me instantly.
