Eventually Griffin’s cheeks cool off, but then they begin to ache. It’s from the smiling. He can’t help but smile when he looks at her.
Aria speaks his name into the microphone, and it pulls him out of his daydreaming.
“Griffin? Griffin Hayes, I know you’re back there. Get your butt out here!”
The crowd goes wild.
It’s not his first time being called out onstage, and he hopes it won’t be his last.
This time he grabs a quick sip of water from the bottle he holds, sets it down, and walks confidently toward the woman of his dreams.
The crowd cheers for him warmly, but under the glare of the bright lights, it’s only Aria he can see.
The perfect view.
Chapter 56
Aria
Aria turns to the crowd. “I want to thank you all for being here tonight. The great city of Los Angeles always feels like home away from home, and I’m thrilled we could kick off the tour together.”
Aria waves with both hands, and the crowd cheers. The set is complete, and her first tour performance can officially be checked from her list.
Griffin slips his hand onto the small of Aria’s back in support but hangs back. Aria loves how happy Griffin is to support her without needing the spotlight himself. Not because she’s not willing to share it; in fact, she’s always trying to rope him into joining her under the lights, and she’s often left to call him out publicly like she just did. Once a homebody, always a homebody, it seems. But the real reason is how it reflects his own deep confidence. How he’s grounded.
Aria turns and winds her fingers into his, then looks up into his eyes.
She loves being onstage, performing solo, but Aria also loves the feel of Griffin at her side. Especially as he’s thrown himself into his foundation work, she’s had a front-row seat to a special sort of blossoming, a second act that might just eclipse the first. He’s astounding and inspiring—which bodes particularly well for song inspiration. If she’s not careful, the next album might as well be namedGriffin Hayes.
Aria waves to the crowd. She pulls Griffin into her side and drops her head on his chest. The band fires up the final walkout music, a synthesized medley of all the songs Aria just performed, and the houselights start to turn on. Aria disentangles from Griffin to return the microphone to its stand, but as soon as she’s back within arm’s reach, Griffin pulls her into his arms.
“You are amazing. That show? It was next level.” Griffin is beaming, and Aria feels like her insides are glittering. Her face breaks into a deep smile.
“Thank you for playing along at the end.” Aria rests on Griffin’s chest.
“Anything for you.”
Aria had planned to ask Griffin if he thought they should add another song to the lineup, a surprise backlist hit played for each performance, but in his arms, the urgency she’d had fades.
“Thank you for coming.”
Griffin grins. “I wouldn’t have missed it. Not for the world.”
“Can you believe we almost didn’t get this?” Aria knows she doesn’t need to clarify—she meansthem, not the album that also once lived on shaky ground.
“I almost messed it up. Well, I did mess up, but then you put it back together.”
“Eh. We both did. I wouldn’t have had the courage to go for it without you.”
Griffin runs a hand up Aria’s arm, and it sends a shiver over her that radiates to the tips of her fingers. “We do make a pretty good team.”
Aria once thought her team was fully loaded with every best professional with connections to every best service. So much so that the suggestion that her team might be incomplete would’ve been laughable. What a surprise it is that today Griffin Hayes, stuck right in the middle of her life, has become such an integral part of her world. A cheerleader, a friend, a support person (giving much-needed relief to Bailey), and more than everything else combined, a real chance at love.
Aria reaches up onto her tiptoes and presses her lips into Griffin’s. The roughness of his skin to her softness is just like each of them to each other. Imperfect alone but perfect complements to each other.
“I love you, Griff.”
Aria closes her eyes, and the arena, the crowd, the lights all fade, and it’s only the two of them. It’s funny how often that happens nowadays. How quickly life shrinks to the two of them, all of the extras falling away.
