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"I guess so. I just think of a father as mowing the lawn and sitting on the couch watching the game. Not leaping on stage and entertaining thousands of fans."

"My dad was an accountant," I shrug as we arrive at a large abstract stone sculpture. It looks like a couple of massive blobs with holes carved in them. "Completely rigid. Poster guy for anal retentive men in suits."

She laughs. "I'm sure you'll be a great father whenever. It's not my business."

But that’s the thing: I want it to be her business. I want Julia to realize that I'm already starting to imagine our future together, and what could be possible.

We wander around the sculptures, quietly making up fake titles for the unusual shapes and different textures of stone.

"Hey, angel face," I whisper, wrapping my arm around her. “Did you notice there are a few people kind of following us?"

She nods. "Yup. Photos and video. It's getting a bit stalker-y."

A raindrop hits her right between the eyes and she blinks, then giggles as I kiss it away. "You up for stopping by the music store? I will definitely be recognized in there."

"Yes." She takes a deep breath, blowing it out in a fake huff while rolling her eyes. “We need you to play the part of rock star, right?”

"Then let's drive there. You've done more than enough walking for now."

When we enter the music store I immediately greet Doug, the manager, whom I've known forever. He seems surprised when I introduce Julia but doesn't comment on the fact that we're obviously together. I can't stop sliding my arm around her or holding her against me. It’s both to create a shield so no one gets too close to her, and to make sure she feels this warm connection between us.

I buy the guitar strings I need, plus a small can of wood oil.

"I always restring my two acoustic guitars and do some cleaning and maintenance when I'm up at the cabin," I explain to her. "It's part of my ritual."

"Cool."

Fortunately nobody interrupts our shopping, although nearly a dozen people are looking at us as we approach Doug at the cash when we’re done.

"You know," he says, nodding to the back room where it sounds like a crowd of people are gathering. "We have a songwriting workshop starting in a couple of minutes. How do you feel about playing just one song to start us off?"

I turning to Julia, watching her expression carefully. "We were just heading to dinner⁠—"

She smiles. "These people would love to hear you. I know you’re hungry, but we can make time."

"I’ll have to leave you alone while I’m singing, angel. Are you sure?"

She nods emphatically. "I’m sure."

We follow Doug into the back room, where about forty people are sitting on chairs, the floor, or standing. The space is kind of cramped, but we find a spot off to the side.

As Doug and Kellen, the other manager, talk about the songwriting workshop and introduce me, I squeeze Julia's hand gently. Weirdly, my stomach is twisting into knots. I may have sung for thousands, but I haven't sung in front of her yet.

And now I'm about to sing a love song to the woman I'm genuinely falling in love with.

7

JULIA

I’m more excited than nervous to hear Sam sing in person at last. I keep reminding myself that this is not the same guy I had a crush on. Not the guy whose albums I've listened to over and over. This is the real man. The guy who has been so sweet to me through this whole awkward situation.

The organizers of the workshop event talk about what's going to be covered, then introduce Sam. Before he leaves my side he whispers, "I'll be ten feet away, angel."

"Okay. Umm…" Shoot, I can't remember whether it's bad to say good luck, or if that's just for plays. "Have fun."

Wow. He just called me ‘angel’ twice, first in front of friends he knows, then again in front of a room full of people who are looking at him. Sam squeezes my hand and kisses my cheek. I can't tell if my face is flaming. I'm suddenly floating above my body.

He takes the stage, murmuring something to Doug on the way by. While he quickly tunes a borrowed guitar, Doug hurries away, then returns with a chair for me. "Here – rest that ankle," he whispers.