“Yeah,” Jami said.They moved downstairs and to the back of the existing studio.“Glass panel right here.”He tapped the wall where he’d measured several times.“We’ll run wiring along the base and anchor another soundboard.Tony’s handling the equipment list.”
“Understood.”Quinn rolled up the plans.“I'm estimating two and a half weeks for all of this.You'll be available for questions while on tour?”
“Yes,” Carlene said.“And Quinn?The upstairs bathroom, doesn’t need to be fancy.Just functional and quiet.”
He tipped his cap.“You got it, boss.”
When he left, the barn fell into the kind of silence Jami liked best, the kind that hummed with what could happen next.
Carlene moved to the end of the bar near the window, hands on the bar, eyes tracing the sun on the floorboards.“He’s good.I'm terribly excited.”
“He is.”Jami leaned against the beam beside her.“So are you.”
She smiled without turning.“You're saying that because I just negotiated a record label into surrender, made a plan to remodel your barn, and helped to plan a tour.”
“I’m saying it because you built something out of wreckage.Most people can’t do that and still look like this.”
Her laugh was soft.“Like what?”
“Like hope.”
She looked up then, eyes searching his face.“That’s a dangerous word for a man who’s lived this life.”
“Not anymore.”
He reached for her hand.She let him take it, fingers weaving naturally into his.For a moment, the barn, the papers, the plans, all of it disappeared into the quiet between them.
“You know,” he said, voice low, “I’ve been thinking about what comes next.”
“New album, new tour, new record label,” she said.“Plenty to think about.”
“That’s not what I mean.”He reached into his pocket, and for once, his hands didn’t shake from adrenaline or nerves.He’d done a thousand shows, played to packed stadiums, but this, this was the one stage that mattered.
Her breath caught when she saw the small velvet box.“Jami...”
“Just listen,” he said.“I don’t want to wait for perfect timing.I don’t want to plan a grand gesture with fireworks or headlines.We’ve had enough of both.I want this here, where it started to make sense again.”
He opened the box.The ring was a simple white-gold band, with one diamond cut sharp and bright, catching the light from the loft window.
“When I wrote “Keys”, it was about finding a door worth opening,” he said.“And when I wrote “More Than a Feeling”, it was about realizing you were on the other side of it.You are the fight, the calm, the reason I still believe this life can be real.So, Carlene Matthews, I love you with my whole heart.Will you marry me?”
She blinked fast, the kind of tears that came from shock and certainty colliding.“You’re serious.”
“As the chords I play wrong and the ones I get right.”
Her lips curved, trembling and sure at once.“I didn’t think you were the kind of man who’d let anyone slow you down.”
He grinned.“You didn’t slow me down.You gave me direction.”
She let out a small laugh that cracked right through her composure.“Then yes,” she said.“Yes, Jami, I’ll marry you.And for the record, I love you with my whole heart.”
He exhaled, relief and joy colliding in one laugh that shook his shoulders.Sliding the ring onto her finger, he kissed her knuckles and rested his forehead against hers.“Good.Because I already told Tony.”
Her eyes widened.“You what?”
“He said, ‘About time.’”
She laughed through a half-sob and wrapped her arms around his neck.“You’re impossible.”
