When we pulled apart, Cole and the guys were ready to come back out to the stage.
“Thank you, Los Angeles. We’re gonna to do one more with these guys.”
The roadies brought another stool for Cole, who carried his guitar in hand. I switched to my bass and stood to get set, with Sam counting us in.
“Wasn’t that great? Let’s have another round of applause for our own Adam Spencer and Liam Perry.”
The crowd erupted again, just like we knew they would.
Cole looked at me and nodded, then started playingLosing My Religionby R.E.M. to the cheers of the crowd. I looked out into the audience to see our family smiling up at us. Claire and William looked so proud. Glancing around, I spotted Patrick in the back of the crowd, but lost him as we finished the song.
An hour later, we ended the show with one of the first songs we’d recorded, back when we were in college in Seattle.
I handed my guitar to one of the roadies and headed straight for Michael. He held his arms open for me, just like he did every time we finished a show.
“You were fantastic, babe,” he said before giving me a quick kiss on the lips.
“Hey, why was Jayden standing with you off-stage?” I had to ask, even though I knew the answer. That’s how well he knew me.
Michael looked at me like I should know the answer to that. “I knew when you played that with your dad, you were gonna lose it. So I made sure to have something to distract you. And your cousin was the best I could do without taking my clothes off.”
I laughed and looked up at the love of my life. “I love you so fucking much,” I said.
Michael leaned down to kiss me. “And I love you too, Rockstar. But you need to get showered. It’s your birthday, and the fam wants to celebrate.”
Ninety minutes later, at almost midnight, we sat on the back patio where I’d first met Uncle Grant. We were talking and laughing when my dad came in carrying ahugebirthday cake aglow with candles.
My family sang to me, and it was amazing.
“Happy Birthday, son,” my dad said, motioning for me to blow out the candles.
But for the life of me, I couldn’t think of a single thing to wish for. I had Michael and my family. I had my music. What more could a man ask for?
I blew out the candles and waited for a piece of cake.
“What did you wish for, Rockstar?” Michael crooned in my ear as he wrapped me in his arms.
“I can’t tell you. It won’t come true if I do.” I scoffed.
I felt his beard on the side of my face when he grinned.
“Here you go, birthday boy,” my Aunt Grace said, handing me a birthday plate with a gigantic piece of chocolate cake.
“Thank you, Grace.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” she said as she handed a piece to Michael.
When everyone had cake, we dug in. I was almost finished when my dad and Logan came over carrying two boxes wrapped in birthday paper and ribbon. One was rather flat, the other more rectangular.
With wide eyes, I looked up at them. “What’s this?”
My Dad smiled. “I guess you’ll have to open them to find out.”
I glanced at Michael, who gave me the ‘I-have-no-idea’ shrug.
“Okay,” I laughed. “Which one first?”
He handed me the one that was shaped like a toddler’s shoebox. I pulled at the ribbon and gently unwrapped it.
