By the timesix p.m. rolls around, the confidence I felt earlier is dwindling. I am not sure what I expected, but I did not expect every ounce of green space in this park to be taken up by bodies. I did not expect people to be holding up “We Love Josh & Melanie” signs or cheering and calling out to us while we set up. This was supposed to be a friendly neighborhood concert. A small acoustic set. Instead, it feels like we’re playing for a sold-out stadium.
Sweat beads at my temples, and I feel the color drain from my face as I move my stool in front of the microphone. I’ve reapplied my lip gloss twice and if I keep messing with my hair, it might fall out. I step into the wings, away from the crowd, to take out my second guitar—my original seafoam green acoustic from our teen years. For old time’s sake.
“You good?” Josh asks, startling me as he steps behind me. His voice is low and calm, steady in a way I’m not.
“Honestly? No. I think I might throw up.” I turn and meet his eyes, and he pulls me close.
“That’s how you know it matters,” he murmurs. “We’ve got this.”
I exhale a laugh. “But I’ve never played my music for a crowd like this. And there are record execs out there.”
He leans in, brushing his lips against the shell of my ear. “They’re lucky to be here.”
I close my eyes, grounding myself to this moment—to this man. The feeling of his hands, the warmth of his body behind mine. All of it is something I never thought I’d get again.
“We’ve got this,” he whispers, and a shiver runs up my spine from the feel of his breath on my ear. He whirls me around to face him, cupping my cheek. “I know it’s been a long road to get here, Mel. But this is only the beginning.”
He kisses me then, slow and reassuring. I feel the beat of his heart against mine, anchoring me to him.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” Councilman Corbin’s voice comes over the loudspeaker. “I’d like to welcome you to Rotary Park for a very special Labor Day Weekend concert…”
Josh tips my chin to his, meeting my eyes. “You ready?” he whispers.
I nod, my breath catching. “With you? Yeah.”
He nods, lacing his fingers through mine as we wait to be announced.
“Please welcome, Cape May’s own Josh Cote and Melanie Glick!”
The crowd cheers, beckoning us. But just before we walk on stage, Josh turns to me.
“Let them see what I see when they look at you,” he murmurs.
Just like that, my nerves settle. I smile at him, squeezing his hand, and we walk on stage—together.
44
JOSH
“Hey everybody,” I say into the microphone.
The crowd goes wild. I laugh, scanning the audience, waiting for them to quiet. Mark, Chip, and Gary are in the reserved seats in the front row. And next to them…my parents, who shocked the hell out of me when they called me this morning to say they are in town. Behind them are all the guys from the old neighborhood and their wives. Sophie is sitting down in front on a blanket in the grass, holding up a cellphone, no doubt facetiming Frank.
The crowd stretches before us like a patchwork quilt of people spread out on folding chairs, lawn chairs, and beach blankets. It’s not a sold-out tour stop under stadium lights, but I’ve played enough shows to know, this is better—this is home. It’s the kind of crowd I grew up playing for, where people show up early, with coolers, some people know every word, some just wander up to see what’s going on. Some may have seen us on TikTok, some may have seen me open for someone bigger. But tonight, I’m back. This is our town and they’re here for us, for Cara.
But it’s my first time back on stage in a while, Melanie’s first time—maybe ever. It’s not just a show—it’sourshot. To show the world what she and I are capable of together. For the first time in a long time, I’m not nervous. I’m proud of what they’re about to hear. Melanie sits down next to me on her stool, but I remain standing.
“Thank you all for being here,” I murmur into the mic. “If you don’t know me, my name is Josh.” A few wolf whistles erupt through the crowd. A husky laugh escapes me. “Many of you probably know this already, but twenty-five years ago, my sister Cara was killed in a car crash. She was just entering her senior year of high school, and she was going to be the captain of the girls’ soccer team.” I pause, letting that sink in. “I know when someone dies, everyone says they lit up a room, that everyone loved them. But Cara reallydidlight up the room. She made everyone feel like they were her best friend.”
A hush follows, a ripple of “awws” through the crowd that people make when their chests tighten a little. Like the sound of their hearts quietly cracking open. I glance at my mom, already holding a tissue to her nose.
“But this beautiful woman,” I say, gesturing to Melanie, “she wasactuallyCara’s best friend. And then she became mine.”
Another chorus of “aww” and I’m pretty sure I see Melanie’s cheeks flush.
“Melanie and I started playing music together when we were sixteen and seventeen, and we fell in love. That kind of first love that makes you think you’re invincible, nothing can touch you, and all that matters is each other. Well, we wrote a song about that, and it’s called ‘Every Song.’ We’re going to sing it for you now.”
The crowd erupts and I grin into the mic, glancing over at my girl. “Take it away, baby.”
