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“Look, Paisley. I wouldn’t have looked if I’d known.” I reach out and grab the journal from the desk. “This is yours,” I say, holding it out to her. She wraps her fingers over the spine, letting the side of her hand brush against mine. Her skin is cold against the warmth of mine, but she doesn’t pull away. Our eyes meet. “From what little I read…your words, they’re really good. And I hope someday you choose to share them with the world. But they belong to you, and that should happen on your time.”

Paisley bites on her bottom lip. She stares down at the notebook, and I can tell there’s an internal debate raging inside of her. I drop my hand and step back to give her some room to think. I made a promise that I would do my best to support her and make sure she feels seen. If that means giving her time and space, I’ll do it, even if it feels like my heart’s getting ripped out of my rib cage in the process.

“You really think they’re good?” she asks.

“They’re amazing, Paisley.”

“Thank you. But I’m not ready to share them yet.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Paisley looks up at me with watery eyes, her face softening.

She takes a deep breath and slips the notebook into a pocket in her guitar bag. Then she comes over and wraps her arms around me.

“I appreciate your honesty,” she says.

I pull her close, grateful that she’s still willing to hug me. I savor the way she feels in my arms, how she smells like cookies and evergreens. How she makes me want to be a better person, even when it’s difficult.

December 11

“What if we repeat the first two lines of the first verse here as a bridge and then build intensity for the final chorus using a whole step modulation?” Paisley asks, her eyes narrowed in thought.

She has that adorable crinkled-nose thing going on again, and I can’t resist brushing a quick kiss over it. “Let’s try it.”

We run through “In the Blink of an Eye” again.

“It’s better,” she says, “but it’s not quite there.”

“What about a post-chorus?” I ask.

Paisley nods. “That could work.”

We play it over and over again, making tiny adjustments. It’s better, but there’s still something missing. We’ve been at it for hours now and haven’t made much progress.

My phone buzzes and I swipe it off the table.

“It’s Barry,” I mumble. Lately he’s texted me, but this time he’s calling. Paisley lifts her eyebrows and I shrug. I have no idea why he’s calling. “Hello?”

“Hey, kid. How’s it going?”

“Going well,” I say. Barry doesn’t sound like he’s about to drop bad news, but that doesn’t stop my stomach from twisting into knots. “How are things?”

“Good, good. Well…” he says with a dramatic pause.

Here it comes.

“What are you doing New Year’s Eve?”

“Um…turning in my demo?”

Barry laughs. “What a jokester.”

Thing is, I’m serious.

I know Paisley and I only have two more songs to go…but they aren’t done yet. Time’s a-ticking, and according to our contract, the demo has to be delivered on or before midnight on December 31. I don’t want it to take that long, but right now, it looks like I’ll need every minute between now and then to finish.

“I’m talking New Year’s Eve night. Do you have plans?” Barry asks.