Page 118 of What Goes Around

“She doesn’t usually perform,” she added. “She’s very modest.”

Apple moved fast.

She slipped in beside me, the perfect little sister. Her hand settled on my arm in a gesture that read as affectionate to anyone who didn’t know better.

“She is amazing, is she not?” Apple said brightly. “I am so proud of her. She has always been talented. I keep telling her she should perform more. She is just shy.”

Her voice carried the exact mix of warmth and false humility she used whenever she wanted a room to adore her. Apple was already working to rewrite the moment, smoothing it into a story where she had orchestrated everything. In her version, she was the supportive sister who had gently coaxed me out of my shell, not the one who had tried to set me up to fail.

I met her gaze briefly.

One of the men turned back to me.

“I would be very interested in hearing more,” he said. “Voices like that do not come around often. If you ever want to pursue a career in music, please reach out. You could be something special.”

I inclined my head politely. “Thank you. I’ll think about it.”

Apple laughed lightly and squeezed my arm, her touch just a little too tight.

“See? It was not that bad. I tell her all the time she needs to put herself out there.”

She sounded proud and encouraging.

I returned the smile, just as polished.

A few people nodded. Others exchanged glances.

Before the attention could settle too long on me, Marissa stepped forward.

“Well,” she said brightly, clapping her hands once, “now that we have had such a special moment, please, everyone, enjoy yourselves.”

She gestured toward the far side of the hall.

“The buffet is open. Finger foods and desserts are just past the columns. And the center floor is cleared for dancing. Tonight is about celebrating.”

On cue, servers reappeared with trays. The background music resumed at a conversational volume. Guests drifted away in small clusters, conversations reforming, attention redirecting exactly where Marissa wanted it.

I watched her for a second as she slid seamlessly back into hostess mode, redirecting attention with gentle touches and murmured suggestions.

Then arms wrapped around me from both sides.

“Ashley,” Payton breathed. “What was that? Oh my God.”

Amy was smiling too.

“You were incredible,” she said quietly. “I knew you were good. I didn’t know you were that good.”

I exhaled slowly, realizing only then how tightly I’d been holding myself together.

“Thank you.”

“Seriously,” Amy added, shaking her head. “I have chills. Actual chills.”

Payton nodded enthusiastically.

“People were crying. Actually crying. And did you hear them? Those music people? They were losing their minds.”

I had noticed.