Page 26

Iknew tonight was going to be wild, and hugely outside my comfort zone. Yet there was no way to guess the way all the details would swirl together and short-circuit my brain.

This entire day up till now has been a blur. I've never had my makeup done by a professional artist before. Natalie even lent me her best fancy shoes, which she's only worn three times. She says they’re more comfortable a bit worn in, than when they were brand new.

Well, I certainly needed every bit of comfort I could get today.

The spotlights are blinding as they swirl around the theater, and Sam squeezes my hand. How on Earth is this my life? I’m sitting in the front row of the Central Diamond Music Awards between Sam Silverton and Electra Jones.

It's getting easier for me to be friendly with celebrities. Electra complimented my dress earlier and was grateful for the peppermints I was handing out during the commercial break. I think she might have a bit of stage fright too. I’ve noticed her hands flinch like mine whenever the spotlight swings over us. For her sake, I don’t know whether to hope she wins female singer of the year or not.

Looking over at Sam, I grin when I see him smiling and waving to people without a care in the world, not at all frazzled that he’s up for Album of the Year. Personally, I thought he should be nominated twice, since it did end up being a double album. "Everyday Songs" and "Everyday Love Songs" rocketed to the top of the charts.

I love the way my boyfriend romanticizes every element of life – from the perfect morning coffee to curling up in front of a fire together, even if it's a fire on a laptop screen. His song about reading his girlfriend's books to feel closer to her made me cry the first time I heard it. Thank goodness he picked a different song to perform earlier.

I'm gradually learning to cope with the cameras and the way they’re sweeping over us tonight by reading a lot of books and articles on dealing with stage fright, so I'm able to jump to my feet with Sam and squeal in delight when he's announced as the winner. He squishes me in a bear hug, then whispers, "Have you decided yet?"

"Nope."

"Do whatever feels right, angel face." He grins, gives me a light kiss, then bounds up to the stage.

Sam always looks so comfortable with a microphone in front of him. He hugs the presenter, then hefts the glass award several times. "Whoa, this thing means business," he jokes, and then the crowd quiets down.

"Everyone talks about songwriting as if it's some mysterious process." He smiles, looking across the crowd with so many of his heroes in attendance, both giants of the industry he's looked up to for years and his peers.

"I always thought of it as, lock yourself in a room with coffee and notebooks and churn out a hundred pounds of lyrics until you find that one ounce of gold." The crowd laughs.

Sam looks out from the stage with that special light in his eyes that’s reserved only for me. "Then I learned an incredible shortcut. Find the woman of your dreams…bring her to your cabin…and then write songs that, apparently, win awards.” Another round of laughter. "Not only did she inspire the songs, she helped organize the whole writing process." He looks around the room. "Women are naturally more organized, right? They see things more logically. Gentlemen, if you have a chance, ask them politely for their help. Trust me on this."

After a round of laughter, mostly from the women, Sam reaches out a hand to me. "Now, this wonderful woman doesn't like being on camera, so I'm not sure if she wants to come up here…"

If I go up on stage with him, it will pretty much guarantee he’ll be featured out of all the winners discussed in the press tomorrow. It will also legitimize how much work I did on the album. I have co-writing credits on six of his songs.

But my sudden moment of shaky bravery as I stand and walk carefully up the steps is not about either of those. It's about the look of pure delight in Sam's eyes as he wraps an arm around me. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet Julia. She's my inspiration, my co-writer, and the love of my life. Julia," he nods toward the crowd. "This is…well…everyone."

Yesterday, I told him that even if I was strong enough to come on stage, there was no way I was going to speak. Now I feel Sam tense, practically bouncing as I lean toward the microphone. "Hi, everyone. Thank you for liking our songs."

I step back, instantly wrapped in a bear hug, a chilly glass sculpture pressing against the back of my shoulder.

Sam goes on to thank his backup band and all the appropriate people at his record company, then we follow the presenter off stage. He takes my hand, leading me through a labyrinth of backstage corridors to a small green room.

After he drags me inside and closes the door, my mouth falls open. The room is empty but for a row of tea lights in front of the mirror and a small bouquet of white roses. "What…"

Sam fishes around in a drawer, then takes my hand as he drops to a knee. "Julia." His rich voice is quiet. More serious than I've ever heard it before. The realization of what's happening rolls through me in slow waves.

"Tomorrow is the anniversary of the day we met." His eyes sparkle in the candlelight. “I was going to ask you after dinner at the cabin tomorrow, but then I realized I needed to propose in under one year."

"Why?"

"It's… I don't know. A symbol of passion. Proof that I can't wait the regular amount of time, or be normal when it comes to you."

He holds up a black ring box, the certain radiant smile I’ve come to adore all over his face. “Julia, like I said just now to all those people. You're the love of my life. You make my heart sing. You help me create songs for the entire world. We’re an incredible team. May I please be your life partner, your husband, and your forever love?"

He opens the box to reveal a diamond and sapphire ring that takes my breath away. It's identical to one I saw months ago but with amethysts from a street vendor. They didn't have my size. The fact that he remembered when having an engagement ring made for me is incredible.

But what’s really making my knees quiver is that he didn't ask for my hand in marriage. Didn’t ask me to give myself to him. He asked if he could be mine. As always, he knew exactly what a woman…this woman…needed to hear.

“Yes!" I collapse into his arms, kissing and cuddling him until we end up on the floor.

He slips the ring on my finger. Of course, it fits perfectly. Then I burst into giggles. "You should have done this on stage for the cameras. The crowd would have gone mental."