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"Oh my God." He pulls me into his arms. "Are you okay?"
"You and this question. Yes, I'm okay. Remember, I'm tough."
"I know, baby. You're the toughest girl I know. I love you. Look at you. You have a person inside of you."
"Our person," I tell him, "our little miracle."
"Oh my God," he says.
"I know, right?" I grin, reaching up on my tippy toes and kissing his lips. "Now, we've got to get to the show."
In the car, I turn on the music, putting on a song that I know Holt loves, Willie Nelson's “Our Song”. He looks at me and he squeezes my hand. The kids in the back of the Suburban don't argue, don't make a fuss. Usually, they would argue, asking to be the DJ, to put on some music that I don't understand. But today they get it. It's about me. My guitar's in the back. It's my music that they're waiting for. So I get to pick what music we listen to as we drive to Cherry Falls. Holt squeezes my hand and I wish his mom understood what the song means to him.
When we get to Cherry Falls, I set up at the festival, taking in the crowded city streets, the small town that is packed today. There are vendors out and children running around, stalls set up, and people everywhere. It's beautiful. It's like a small town from a movie. Everyone is smiling, decked out in their best, ready to celebrate not a national holiday, but their city just for what it is.
And when I get up on the main stage with my guitar in hand, hooked up to the amp, I lick my lips, settling my nerves. I’m wearing my pale peach dress, my cream-colored boots. My brown hair swept to the side, wanting to replicate the moment that night I met Holt Stone when he took me by the hand at the Tipsy Cow and changed my life in a million different ways.
He made me more than a believer that night. He made me his.
I was scared about this song, putting my heart out there, but I'm trying to be brave. I clear my throat and speak into the microphone. "I'm Paisley Cassidy and this song is called “Bittersweet Lane”. I wrote it for Holt Stone, the man of my dreams. This one's for you, baby."
When I finish singing, there's a hush that falls over the crowd and for a moment I feel like maybe I messed it all up royally.
But then there's applause that sets my heart on fire, that has a smile on my face that I haven't felt since I was 18 years old.
And I tap my boots on the wood plank floor of the stage and I begin to sing another song on my set list, and then another, and then another.
I said maybe I wasn't made for the stage.
I thought maybe my dreams were dashed a long time ago.
I know a world tour isn't high on my agenda this year or next.
I sure as heck can't go on a reality TV show anytime soon.
But I can stay here in my small town and give a concert for the people I love, for the man I love.
Right now, I can sing a song. Right now. So I do.
Epilogue 2
Holt
When he pulls around third base, I can't help but hoot and holler. Now, I know you're not supposed to make a big old ruckus when you're a parent in the stands, but I can't very well help it. It's my kid. He's my son. And he's about to make a home run. How can I not raise a fuss? It's my boy after all and he's in Little League.
"You got it, Handy! You got it!" I shout. He's seven years old and he's the light of my life. God, this boy is good. I'm clapping and Paisley's cheering and the whole crew is jumping up and down. It's like we've never seen a kid run before. I don't think I've ever been so damn happy, but here I am coaching my son's team like this is the major leagues.
Damn, it's a good day.
After his team has won, I'm at the barbecue grilling hamburgers and hot dogs at the house. Both teams are there, everyone. Winners and losers, because, hell, it's Little League after all. Paisley is nine months pregnant, because of course she is. We're on baby number four. Our whole life is fucking better than we could have imagined. We're still here in the Ranch Lands because, well, it's our home.
Everyone's getting older. Somehow Granger's in high school, and Paisley is the fucking star of the goddamn world, the light of my life.
I knew it when I first saw her, she was more than sunshine, brighter than the solar system. And I wasn't wrong.
