Not the hope you sparked in me.
It was everything about you,
I’m like a lock, and you the key.
You’re a flame lit inside me,
And I ask you please come home.
Everything is brighter by your side,
Together, not alone.
I don’t care about the music,
Or about the final score.
All I know is that without you,
I will always be wanting more.”
Once the crowd finishes their cheers, more than one member pulling an endeared hand to a chest or dabbing at the corner of an eye, Aria speaks into the mic. “And now that I’ve as good as confessed the depths of my adoration for Griffin Hayes, I’d like to welcome him to the floor to tell us about The Griffin Hayes Foundation for Youth Sports. And don’t forget—don’t leave without making a donation.”
Aria’s heart hammers in her chest, and she feels so exposed she might as well be nude. Nevertheless, she watches as Griffin takes the microphone up on the second level. Even from this distance, she detects a pinkness in his cheeks.
He stumbles over his opening words, then resets. “What can I say? I’m a little stunned—in the best sort of way—from that Aria Wilder original, so bear with me if I miss something.”
Griffin is adorable as he explains the impetus for his foundation, his injury and personal journey—one that’s still underway—and eventually finds his footing as he talks about his vision for what the organization will bring to youth athletes across the country.
Bailey snakes through the crowd to Aria’s side, and as Griffin is wrapping up his final comments, she whispers in Aria’s ear, “There’s no way he’s not in love with you, sis. It’s obvious in the look on his face.”
Aria reaches out and squeezes her hand.
She certainly hopes that’s true, but for now she’s forced to wait to hear it straight from him.
Chapter 51
Griffin
Griffin is confused at first when he hears Aria’s voice on the microphone. He wonders momentarily if Michaela, his event lead, planned a surprise performance from her as a bonus for the guests, but undoubtedly she would’ve needed his personal connection to make the booking. Since he disconnected—mostly—from the online world and the snarky remarks from commentators, the rambling about his career or lack thereof, Griffin has been feeling more grounded and in no rush to get back online. Only now does he realize that he also hasn’t heard about any new song from Aria.
She didn’t send it to him directly or he would’ve checked it out.
He remembers not answering her call, and his gut drops. In his stewing, he never called her back, promising once he got himself to a better place he would. Of course she wouldn’t continue to reach out when all she got in response was silence.
The music plays, the lyrics sung in a voice so very Aria—not the one overly synthesized or drowned out by the special effects of the stage—one perfectly accompanied by a simple guitar, simply her. She is everything she spoke about wanting her music to be: real and true. Aria, herself.
Then her words unwind and with them a delightful understanding. Griffin is flooded by a sudden impulse to hold her, to kiss her, to love her.
While Griffin was holed up feeling sorry for himself and berating himself for not being enough for this woman, she was writing a song about the inspiration he brought to her. While he is consumed with improving himself for her, Aria says he’s already enough. While the world hypothesizes about his next steps, examines the hit that blew out his knee in slow motion, monitors his appearance in public, she says he’s transformed her world.
Aria Wilder says she wants him as is. After the injury. Before the foundation. The mess in between.
When Aria completes her song, she sounds flustered as she introduces him. All Griffin wants is to rush to her, pull her into his arms, and tell her everything. But he has to stick to the script for the event, the foundation, and even for Aria. They deserve to talk things out in private, a cherished rarity for both of them.
Griffin pushes himself to remember what he planned to say. He fumbles words, forgets things, and backtracks more than once, but he can’t help it. Pictures of Aria and all their moments together dance through his mind. Griffin knows how to buckle down and perform, and he’s grateful for the musclememory. Without it, he might’ve jogged down those stairs, picked Aria up into his arms, and carried her out of here, event and all forgotten.
At the end of his comments, he makes a clear ask for donations as Beverly coached him to do.
