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“You’ll be great. You always are.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Break a leg!”

When a producer waves me forward, I put my earpieces in and step onto the stage.

The crowd erupts, and I soak it all in, letting every single one of their cheers and screams fill me up so I can pour out my heart back at them.

The first half of my set goes off without issue. We transition to the acoustic portion of the show, and this is the moment I always feel a little panicky. This is where it all started—just me and my guitar. I want to do my roots justice, so the pressure is high. That, and any mistake I make is highlighted when it’s just me singing and strumming chords.

“You guys are the best crowd a guy could ask for.” I take my time positioning my seat and the microphone as the crowd cheers. “I know this is a Christmas special and everything, but I was hoping you’d indulge me.”

“Play us a new song, Gabe!” A scream echoes from the back of the venue.

“Well, then.” I chuckle, sure the mics picked it up. “Don’t mind if I do.”

The crowd goes wild.

I grin out at them. “This is a song I wrote recently. It’s about a second chance at love. I hope you enjoy it.”

As I strum the opening chords of my new song—one in a long number of titles I’ve written with Beth in mind—I glance up and am surprised to find a random spotlight dancing over the crowd. That’s funny. I don’t recall that particular light display being part of any of our rehearsals. I do my best to ignore it and close my eyes to really feel the lyrics.

When I blink to make eye contact with the crowd, I’m startled to find the spotlight has come to rest on the fourth row of the standing-room-only section of attendees.

On one attendee in particular.

I have to strum a couple extra bars before I can sing the bridge and final chorus because the spotlight landed directly on Beth.

My mind is mush. What is she doing here? How is she here? She’s supposed to be at the Christmas Dash.

I sing the rest of my song about her with my eyes glued to hers, just like I used to.

The remainder of the concert is a blur.

I try to find her in the crowd again before I leave the stage, but without the spotlight, it’s hopeless. I wave to the fans and jog off stage to their raucous applause.

“So good, Gabe!” My manager greets me with a hug and a slap on the back.

“Yeah. Thanks. Hey, there’s someone here I need to see.”

Josh frowns. “Who?”

“Beth. She’s from Dasher Valley. She’s who I wrote that song about. There was a spotlight out there, and she’s here. I can’t believe she’s here.” I run my hand through my hair.

Josh cracks a grin. “I can.”

He steps to the side, and Beth steps forward.

“Hey.” She says it with a half smile.

It’s only been a couple days, but I have to stare at her for a minute, to take her all in. Instead of the evening gown I was picturing her in for the Christmas Dash, she’s wearing black pants and boots with a high heel. She maybe makes it up to my shoulder now. She’s got her hair pinned back off of her face, and she’s wearing her glasses.

She looks perfect.

I’m rooted in place and tongue-tied.

“I’m going to leave you two. I’ll be over . . . there.” Josh slaps me on the back again and hightails it down the hallway.