“Mia Michele Alexander,” I say, my voice full of more emotion than I’ve ever felt. “You are my rock. My guiding light. Everything I never knew I needed. But I know now. I’ve known since you reappeared back into my life at this very venue with your camera in one hand and my heart in the other. You’ve loved me through everything.”
I let go of one hand and reach into my jacket pocket, pulling out the ring box. I flip it open as I sink to one knee.
The noise in the crowd becomes a deafening roar, but in my head, it’s quiet.
All I need is to hear her say yes.
“I promise you, I’ll spend the rest of my life making your dreams come true—because you’ve already made all of mine,” I say. “Marry me, sweetheart. I love you. I’ve got you. Marry me.”
One hand flies to her face—not to hide her shock, but to wipe her tears.
She doesn’t run. She doesn’t freeze. She smiles through the tears like she’s been waiting for this moment her entire life.
There’s nothing about this moment that feels the way it had in the hospital. This is raw. Honest. Real. Us.
By the grace of God, this time, she nods.
Still crying. Still glowing.
Finally, she whispers, “Yes.”
I stand too fast, nearly dropping the box on the stage before I can slide the ring where it’s always belonged. Then she’s in my arms, her arms locked tight around my neck, face buried in my chest like she never wants to let go.
The guys drop their instruments and rush forward. Rylee, Johanna, and Jake run out from the wings. A thousand flashes go off from cameras and phones, the roar thunders from the crowd, and still—all I can feel is her.
I hold her face in my hands, brushing away tears with my thumbs, memorizing every detail of her—because this moment is ours.
“I love you so much,” I whisper.
She nods again, her voice catching.
“I love you, too. More than anything.”
We stand there, wrapped in each other, as the lights rise and the crowd loses its mind. My band, my family, my future—everything that matters—is standing out here with us.
Cheering. Laughing. Crying. Living.
And it isn’t perfect because of the timing.
It’s perfect because she said yes.
Because she’s still mine, and I’ve always been hers.
"Ghost of Us" - Midnight til Morning
Johanna
The new house is disgustingly perfect.
Grayson and Mia moved into their brand-new place with white walls, tons of natural light, and a kitchen that would’ve made my mother cry tears of joy if she could’ve been here to see it. Mia has put candles with her signature scent in every room—something soft and warm, like vanilla and leather—and photos she’s taken line the mantle and the walls in simple black frames like some curated gallery of their life. Soft blankets drape over the loveseat and couch in the living room.
It would’ve been a dream if it didn’t make me feel so damn lonely.
They’d moved out of the band house a few weeks ago, like I’d known they would. I’m happy for them—truly. Happy they’ve found their way back to each other. Thrilled they bought this place so they could have sex here and not on every surface of the house we all share. I thinkeveryoneis relieved about that.
But I would’ve been lying if I said I’d been prepared for how it feels now that they’ve left. For the emptiness they’ve left behind.
I’ve never done well being alone. Even in a room full of people, I still feel like the only one there. Now that the band isn’t actively touring, the house is quieter than ever. Too quiet.
