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I’ve been his girlfriend for a year and a half now, but there are times like these it hits me how Beckett Christensen is so ridiculously out of my playing field. Still, he chose me. A nerd like me with a bad boy stud like him. Two opposites in so many ways yet, we fit so perfectly together.
It’s good to be me!
Epilogue
Beckett
Anders and Tomas are done warming up the crowd.
Anders nods at me.
I nod back.
“We’re going to deviate from the program tonight.” He announces the change of plan to the crowd.
A low rumbling runs through the theater.
Anders turns to his creative partner. “If you’re going to make history, you do it in a big way or not at all, right?”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Tomas says.
That gets the crowd fired up even more.
I look to my brother for support.
He smiles warmly at me.
Stasia, Jace, and Rod also offer sympathetic smiles.
That does little to untie the knot lodged in my stomach.
I’m nervous as hell.
I’ve played to sold out arenas around the world. Up to now, I’ve never been gripped with stage fright. Singing to twenty thousand adoring fans is vastly different from this moment, though. Thank God Anders and Tomas are behind me one hundred percent—in fact, they insisted I usurp their stage. All of our friends and family gathered here tonight have been helping me for months to make this special night happen.
“In true Cello2Cello fashion,” Anders says, “we would normally kick things off with an edgy rock song, especially when we’re performing with some of the best rock artists and one of the most powerful rock voices on the planet.”
The crowd approves.
“Speaking of powerful voices”—Tomas takes the lead—“in my humble opinion, no one comes close to Beckett Christensen. His distinct voice is like no other.”
Another round of enthusiastic applause ensues.
“Who wants to hear Beckett sing?” Tomas asks the crowd.
People cheer, stomp, holler, and clap.
The cacophony is fucking deafening.
It’s deeply humbling.
“Should we start with the badass singer?” Anders fans the crowd by waving his hands in the air.
The cheers in the theater reach earsplitting decibels.
Anders turns to face me. “Beckett, my man, the public has spoken. The stage is yours.”
I nod in gratitude and step forward, guitar in hand.
