“Hope, my love.” He closes the door behind him, a silly half smile already in place. “You thought I’d miss this for a stupid gaming conference?”
“You said you couldn’t make it.” I take a step toward him, then another. “You said—”
“Total lie.” He kisses my forehead so he doesn’t mess up my makeup. “Had to sell it for the surprise.”
I stare at him. “You lied?”
“I had to be convincing.” He shrugs. “Security didn’t love it, but Linus helped me with the ruse.”
I laugh, the sound breaking through everything else. “You’re unbelievable.”
“You’re so silly. I’d never miss such an important night.” He grips my hand. “Never.”
Tears threaten. “You’re actually here.”
I don’t think. I wrap my arms around him.
He exhales against my neck, hands settling at my waist. The noise outside fades for a second. The pressure. The expectation. Everything narrows down to this.
I pull back enough to see him. “I was so sad.”
“Seriously. Did you really think I’d miss your debut performance at the Grammys?” He tilts his head. “Not happening.”
I shake my head. “I tried to be cool, I didn’t want you to think I needed you if you couldn’t be here.”
“You don’t need me here.” His expression shifts, not hurt or surprised. “Youwantme here.”
Yes. There’s a difference. It hits me all at once.
“I do.” I kiss his entire face.
“Good.” He grins. “You ready?”
I nod. “I am now.”
He leans in and presses a kiss to my temple, grounding, steady. “Go, they’re waiting.”
The stage is bigger than anything I’ve stood on before. It should, but when I step into the light, it doesn’t swallow me.
It opens.
The crowd in the arena stretches out in front of me. Rows of faces, cameras, lights, people I grew up listening to focusing on me.
I can’t see them, though. No one tells you this.
The stage manager signals me as the commercial break ends. For a second, it’s silent as I adjust the mic. Grip the guitar. Start on cue.
The first chord carries across the entire stadium, filling the space and settling into the room. It moves through me.
I begin to play. The song builds from quiet and grounded, opening into something bigger without losing its center. Every note lands where I want it. Every word holds.
I see him to the side of the stage. Alek doesn’t look away. Neither do I.
The chorus rises and the room follows, energy lifting, not chaotic or scattered. Locked in. I feel it in my bones and the way the guitar responds under my fingers.
This moment is mine.
I finish and let the last note fade. Silence holds for a fraction of a second.
