I anchor myself to the mic as I speak. “Thank you for listening to my story and accepting the real me, without the glitz and glam. I want to set an example for every girl and every woman who looks at herself in the mirror and only sees her flaws. Never forget that you’re beautiful, worthy, and perfect—exactly as you are.”
Somebody shouts, “We love you, Tally!”
A stray tear trickles down my cheek. “I love all y’all, too.”
My disguise might be ruined for good, but I can always buy a few wigs and contacts if I wanna masquerade as a regular citizen. Should probably get some for Rust, too.
“And I haven’t been idle,” I add. “With my new look, I bring you new music. To express my gratitude, you’ll be the first to hear my favorite song from my next, unannounced album.”
I pluck the intro notes of ‘Love’s an Outlaw.’ The stage lights dim to a warm amber, and the audience goes into a frenzy, but I look at Rust.
The fame is worthless without him. Even my freedom means nothing without him.
He’s my missing piece.
And there he stands, looking at me withpride and adoration. He’s willing to let me take credit for this song, but this is not justmymoment any longer.
It’s ours.
Our song.
“Have y’all ever fallen in love?” I ask the audience, holding eye contact with my ex-husband.
The crowd hollers.
“Have y’all ever met a person who makes your world go quiet when you’re drowning in chaos? Somebody who silences your doubts until all that’s left is the light in your heart. Somebody who loves you so loudly and fiercely it makes your soul sing.”
Rust shuffles his feet as he smiles bashfully.
“Well, I had that love when I was a girl. Losing him hurt like hell, but we found each other again. We’ve got a lot of missed time to make up for and it starts tonight, with this song we wrote together. I know you’ll love him as much as I do. Ladies and gentlemen, it’s my pleasure to introduce Rustin McAllister!”
Rust’s smile fades as a spotlight slides across the stage. He shakes his head emphatically, shoulders rounding.
I vow to spend every day making him believe in himself until he understands that he’s more than good enough. He’s a brilliant musician.
And he’s the perfect man for me.
Springing this on him is a lot to process, I get it. But if I’d asked him before the show, he would’ve turned me down. I also know he needs this nudge. He needs music in his life and he deserves to finally be acknowledged.
“Aw, I think he’s feeling a little shy,” I add, smiling.
“Rustin! Rustin! Rustin!” His name rises in a chant, boots stomping and hands clapping.
“That’s what I’m talking about, y’all!” Making a come-hither gesture, I join the chanting. “Rustin! Rustin!”
Rust’s eyes go wide. He sighs, then he laughs, throwing up his hands in playful defeat. A stagehand gives him an earpiece and he puts it in, straightening his backward cap. Dressed in his old jeans, a flannel with the sleeves torn off and a tank top underneath, he steps into the light.
And somehow, he looks like a superstar.
The crowd breaks out in eardrum-bursting excitement.
Rust approaches and covers the mic with his hand. Grinning, he leans in, his breath tickling my ear. “You planned this from the start, didn’t you?”
I wink. “Easier to ask for forgiveness than to get permission.”
He kisses my cheek and somebody whistles.
“You’re really somethin’ else, Trouble.”
