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I leaned into him, loving how solid he was. I would never have to worry about anything, as long as I had Mateo to support me. “There’s only one adoring fan I care about.”
He captured my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tipping my face to his. “Good. Then I don’t have to worry about eliminating any competition.”
He dropped a swift, firm kiss on my lips, drawing back before either of us could get lost in it.
“You should probably go,” I prompted, even though I would have preferred for him to stay with me until the moment I had to walk onstage.
But this “backstage” area was cramped enough as it was. The space was little more than a broom closet with a vanity mirror and a guitar stand, and bulky Mateo did not fit. I needed to do some of my warm-up exercises to mitigate my mounting anxiety.
“I’ll be front and center,” he promised. “Tonight and every night from now on.”
I grinned like a fool. “I love you. Thank you for arranging all this for me.”
“Everything was booked based on your talent,” he reminded me, as he’d done multiple times over the last two weeks.
“I still wouldn’t be here without you believing in me. I love you so much, Mateo.” I couldn’t say it often enough.
“I love you, Sofia.”
God, I couldn’t get enough of hearing him say it, either. Those rumbly words in his deep voice made me all warm and shivery. I went up onto my toes and offered one final kiss before shooing him out of the cramped space.
Mateo had been gone less than a full minute before someone knocked on the door, interrupting my stretches.
Puzzled, I opened it to find a stranger on the other side. The woman offered a bright, perfect smile.
“Hi,” she introduced herself. “You must be Sofia. I’m Carmen, the assistant manager.”
I took the hand she offered and shook it, even though I was a bit confused by her presence. “I thought Steph was the assistant manager?”
The statuesque, raven-haired beauty with the sleek, polished style was completely different from the bubbly blonde I’d been introduced to earlier this evening.
“Shift change,” Carmen explained with a little wave of her red-manicured fingers. “I brought you a complimentary tea,” she announced, raising the steaming white mug she held in her free hand.
“Oh?” I asked, my interests piqued. I wrapped my hands around the warm mug and sniffed at the hot beverage. “What kind? I love tea.”
“I know,” she replied with a smile. “I noticed your tea-lover hashtags on your Instagram, and I thought you might like it. It’s ginger tea with a little honey.”
“Perfect combo,” I approved. “Thanks so much. That was really thoughtful of you.”
“Let me know if you need more honey in it,” she prompted.
I took a tentative sip, testing the temperature and flavor on my tongue. “This is awesome as-is,” I confirmed. “Thanks again! I really wasn’t expecting free tea. I’m just so grateful to get this gig.”
“I heard you sing in some of your videos posted on your social media. You have a remarkable voice.”
“Thank you.” I took a long sip to hide my flush. I’d spent my entire life training my instrument to be good enough to warrant praise, but accepting it still made me uneasy. Mateo was helping me learn to let go of my anxiety that the praise came with a price or expectation, but I still had a lot of bad habits to break.
“This is your first gig, right?” she asked, making polite conversation.
I wished she would give me a little space to breathe before I had to perform, but I didn’t want to be rude to the assistant manager of the venue that had hired me.
“Yeah.” I took another big sip. “I’m so thrilled for the opportunity. I really appreciate it.”
“I’m sure you’ll be very happy in your musical pursuits, wherever you end up. You obviously have a great passion for it.”
That seemed like kind of a weird thing to say, but I couldn’t focus on picking at it. My anxiety must be hitting overload, because I was feeling far too hot and a little dizzy.
I practiced the deep breathing exercises I’d learned in therapy, but they didn’t help clear my head.
“Careful,” Carmen warned, plucking the mug from my hand before I could drop it.
I pressed my palm to my forehead, willing the room to stop wavering around me. I’d never had anxiety like this before.
“I don’t feel good,” I admitted, struggling to practice my breathing exercises. I kept losing track of what I was trying to accomplish.
“You just need some fresh air.” Her slender arm hooked around my waist, and she guided me out of the backstage area.
The world began to spin, so I closed my eyes. Cool air kissed my cheeks, rousing me for a few seconds.
