A reminder to have fun. To just go with it.
The corner of his mouth quirks. “You can do this, Annie.” The words are low enough so only I can hear them. “You were born to do this.”
Something clicks into place.
The nerves don’t flee, but they morph into something bigger. Soul-spun electricity. The energy in the air is contagious, winding through me in glimmering tendrils and settling in my chest. I loosen my grip on the mic stand.
Then I start to sing.
The first verse rolls off my tongue, tentative but building, each note zigzagging through the crowd. People start moving. The bride twirls in her lacy gown, her husband spinning her under his arm. Champagne sloshes. Heads tip back with untamed joy, the kind only music can bring. That unparalleled elixir of life.
Chase’s voice finds mine in the chorus, a flawless harmony that sends a jolt down my back. Our eyes meet again, bold and energizing. There’s this unspoken thrill of creating magic, of bringing something to life. His smile deepens as he leans into the mic, long fingers gliding over the guitar, coaxing out a solo that makes the crowd go wild.
Tag picks up the groove, throwing in a deep, rolling rhythm. Aaron matches him beat for beat on the drum kit, driving the song forward like a runaway train.
And then the real magic happens.
Another song rolls out. Then another.
I step away from the mic stand.
My sneakers scuff against the wooden platform as I dance, my body giving in to the music. The feeling. A wave of confidence unfurls, scaling my limbs,my voice, my whole damn heart. I extend my hand toward the crowd as the chorus to “Don’t Stop Believin’” swells.
Guests whoop and holler, sing along, raise their drinks in the air. The joy is infectious, a wildfire spreading through the backyard.
Through me.
I laugh, breathless and free, and Chase catches it, watching me with something unreadable in his eyes. Like he’s seeing me for the first time.
No…
Like he’s seeingmeseemefor the first time.
I’m more than a voice. More than an overworked waitress. More than a girl too scared to chase what she really wants.
I have a place on this stage.
We slow it down with “Fade Into You” by Mazzy Star, a personal selection by me. I take the lead, the haunting, moody lyrics stripping me bare. And then we move into another song. Something so familiar it claws at my heart.
“I Only Want To Be With You.”
Chase and Tag ditch the electric guitars for a raw, acoustic rendition.
As Chase strums the opening chords, the moment stretches, fragile and aching. My breath locks up. The music is softer, more intimate, wrapping around us like the stifling heat of late July. The lyrics are light and playful, but the words dig deep.
Chase sings with me, his voice threading through the chords like melted butter. His harmony wraps around mine, lifting it, blending it, creating richness.
My chest tightens. I feel him in every note, every inflection. We step closer together, hardly a foot between us.
When the chorus hits, we lean in at the same time, sharing a microphone, our faces inches apart. The air crackles. He watches my mouth as I sing.
For a fleeting second, it feels like we aren’t at a wedding. Like it’s just us, playing in some dimly lit bar, lost in the music. The moment. And God, I wish I could freeze it. Hold on to the way he’s looking at me right now, likeI’msomething worth holding on to.
As the last note fades out, Chase lets out a breath, eyes on mine, his lips parting like he’s about to say something.
But the applause surges, swallowing the moment whole.
It’s a drug. Both a sedative and a high.
