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My face splits into a smile. “Then don’t you worry about that tiny detail. I’ve got you.” I bump my hip against his—well not quite his hip, more like the upper part of his leg.
He lets out a half-huff, half-chuckle sound.
“I mean, I may have listened to the clip of you playing over and over and written something to accompany you.”
His eyebrows rise toward the brim of his hat.
“If you want me to join you, I will. Trust me when I say I would never do anything to make either of us look bad in front of these people. Only the best.”
He hesitates as he thinks this through and then nods his head. “All right then.”
25
CLAY
Standing on the edge of the stage, I mull over every life decision I’ve ever made to get me to this point. Yes, there is this part of me that has always wanted to do what Ash does and be someone like him who can stand in front of an audience and sing without any worries at all, but now that I’m here, I want to take it all back.
Am I so nervous I can actually call the emotion I’m feeling terrified? Yes, but it’s not nerves per se that want me to take it all back, more like a realization that I am happy doing what I’m doing and in the place I’m in. I thought putting myself first in my career meant I had to also be number one on the stage at least a little bit of the time, but that’s not the case anymore. Putting myself first means knowing where I’m comfortable and making sure things stay that way.
Can I do this? Absolutely. Do I want to? Without a doubt, no.
Unfortunately, it’s too late to turn back now. I had to go and open my big mouth and agree to this, and to prove what? That I am someone too? I already know this, my friends and family know this, and at the end of the day, that’s all that matters. Ash has never made me feel less or second, at least never intentionally. I put those thoughts in my head myself, me, and look where I am now. Look at what I’ve gotten myself into. Never in my life have I really wanted to do this, and now the only way to get out of it is to go through with it.
But then there she is, standing next to me like a tiny angel clothed in a skintight purple dress with sparkles on her skin, shiny lips, and the same tall strappy shoes from earlier that make her little legs look like they go on for days. They also make me want to bend her over near the closest wall so she can lean in for balance while I lose myself in her from behind.
She said she would be backstage waiting for me, but I never expected this. She knew how hard this was going to be and she showed up with guns blazing without me asking, without me knowing.
Do I have any idea what she wrote or how it will sound? No, but I also know she would never in a million years do anything that would embarrass me, her, or our friends. If anything, having her stand next to me looking as incredible as she does will only make this entire performance better, and with that thought, some of that pressure that’s been smothering me all night—hell, the last few months—eases.
I’m not doing this alone. Emma is with me.
She put me first.
Damn.
I’ve been trying so hard to keep my emotions about her in check, and then she goes and does this. There’s no way I can stop myself from falling for this girl now. I don’t know how I let it happen, I was adamantly against it, but here we are, and I know I love this girl.
Probably always have.
Reaching over, I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her into my side. A rightness slides through me and I can’t help the small smile that takes over my lips. She moves her violin and bow to the opposite hand and wraps hers around my waist. With her heels on, her head just barely reaches my shoulder, but she still tucks in perfectly next to me. I’m sure someone somewhere is taking our picture, and I hope they do. I want to remember this moment and this night for as long as I can.
All around us, the people are a blur. I didn’t even register them until the signal was given and the backstage crew began rushing around to change out the set. Hushed voices, attendants, equipment—all of it is so organized it’s like a show on its own. Off to the side, I see Cora, who is standing next to their manager Mona, and both of them are smiling at us. Well, now I know how Emma pulled this off—she had Mona do the heavy lifting with the awards show team. Behind us, the group performing after us lines up, meanwhile the ending notes of the solo singer ahead of us ring through the building.
Together we watch as one of country music’s newest rising stars waves goodbye to the crowd and exits our way. He gives me a head nod while grinning from ear to ear. I know that feeling, that post-performance adrenaline. I’ve felt it so many times before and I’m certain I will tonight too, only tonight, Emma will also feel it with me. Sweet anticipation of our night vibrates my bones. Although I know I’m getting way ahead of myself and thinking about this at the most inopportune time, I can already taste her skin.
As the back curtain drops, Ash and Avery make their way onto the stage from the opposite side. They’re holding hands, looking like the music king and queen that they are, and the crowd goes wild with enthusiasm for them. Both are smiling and seemingly not nervous at all, whereas I am a complete wreck on the inside.
Well, that’s not true. Emma’s made me suddenly view this entire experience differently. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll be so fucking glad when it’s over, but until then, I’m feeling more fender bender than complete wreck.
Every year since we first went on tour, we’ve been at an awards show like this one, and whether we were introducing an artist or winning an award, Ash has always done the talking for us. I just follow along, wave to the crowd, and depending on the reason, we’re done in one to three minutes. So quick and so easy. While this song is only three minutes and thirty-five seconds, it feels so much longer.
“Good evening,” Ash says into the microphone, and the volume of the crowd increases with approving cheers. Fans have loved following along with their love story. Whether it is actors, singers, or athletes, it doesn’t matter; any public romance becomes a fairy tale, and as I stand here with Emma, I can’t help but wonder if that’s what we are becoming too.
“Last year, Avery Layne, who looks absolutely radiant tonight, and I did a thing.” He pauses to look over at her and holds up his left hand for the crowd to see. Avery laughs while whistles and more cheers explode around the room. “And my best man, my best friend, my bandmate, my brother for most of my life, wrote us a song. I don’t think he meant for it to be shared with the world, but sometimes things don’t go as planned, and well, here we are.” He stretches out his hands, and the audience cheers. “Sometimes things are even better.”
More cheers.
“Avery and I are proud to introduce Clay Johnson as he performs his first single for all of you, ‘Sunday Afternoon’.”
