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“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you—”
Lorelai isn’t listening, though. She’s inside the closet and I can hear the rustling of bags and boxes.
A moment later she comes out, her arms full. “Lose the pants, and for Christ’s sake, get out of those shoes.”
I follow her command and she hands me a pair of pressed dark-wash jeans. “Put those on.” They fit perfectly and I raise my eyebrow as I button the fly.
“These just happened to be in the hotel closet, huh?”
She waves me off with a grin. “Now the boots.” She passes me a pair of shined-up black Luccheses.
“My size, I’m guessing?”
“Can’t have them pinching on your big night.”
“I could have just worn my Vans.”
She snorts. “Save them for the after-party.”
The boots fit perfectly, and I stand up, walking up to the mirror. I still look like me, but a cleaned-up version. Business on top, different kind of business on bottom. The good-time guy from Tennessee who’s gone and made something of himself.
“Better?” Lorelai asks.
“It’s perfect.”
She wraps her arms around my neck and presses her soft lips to mine, her tongue darting out to taste mine briefly. I place my hands on her belly before sliding them to her hips and squeezing gently. “I love you,” I tell her.
“Love you, too.” She kisses me again and again before pulling back. “Now, if you’re done being a prima donna, I need to get dressed. We’re cutting it close.”
“You know we could still just skip—”
“Fuck off, Boseman. You’re going to the Grammys and you’re gonna like it.”
Two hours later, Lorelai shifts uncomfortably in her seat.
“Nervous?” I ask her.
She narrows her eyes and lowers her voice. “No, but your child has the hiccups and decided to perch on my bladder. It’s not great.”
I bite back a laugh at her expression and instead try for contrite. “That’s unfortunate.”
“Laugh it up, Boseman. As soon as we’re done here, I’m gonna order you one of those carrier things Cam’s got.”
I shut my mouth and turn back to the show. They’re announcing our category next.
Song of the Year.
I’ve been nominated twice this evening. Once alone, and once as a cowriter with Lorelai. On the one hand, to be nominated is an honor in itself and we’re both thrilled for the recognition.
On the other, there’s a high-stakes bet on the line depending on whether I can win alone or with my wife or not at all.
Our category is announced, and a fresh-faced sitcom actress reads the teleprompter, introducing the songs up for Song of the Year. I can feel the moment the camera pans to Lorelai and me, and she reaches for my hand, squeezing. Myeyes are drawn to her, my brain memorizing this moment. Her long, flowing shiny black hair and dark, laughing eyes. My ring on her finger, our child growing to the sound of her steady heartbeat. I’m gone for her and suspect I always will be.
In the next moment, both our names are called to massive applause. She reaches her hand to me and I take it, pulling her gently to her feet. I give her my arm and escort her up the steps, her ethereal white gown glittering and wrapping around her legs, stealing every ounce of my concentration.
I don’t know if it’s hormones or the moment, but when Lorelai reaches the mic, glittering tears spill onto her cheeks.
“Hell,” she says, “I never thought I’d be here.” She swipes her face and looks to me, her watery gaze beaming. “But you knew it, didn’t you?” She turns to the mic, her voice clear. “He always knew. Thank you for giving me this chance to come back. I promise I don’t take it for granted. Huck?” She shifts aside, and suddenly I’m there in front of the mic. In front of my peers.
I take a deep breath. “She’s wrong. I didn’t always know. But I hoped. Which is sometimes the same thing, I guess. I hoped to one day make it up here in front of y’all. Way back when it was just Lorelai and me, trading lyrics back and forth and whispering daydreams on the floor of my tiny apartment. And then there was a time I was afraid it never would.” I look at my wife and she’s pressed her lips together, but it does nothing to diminish her happy smile.
“But one day three years ago, Lorelai called me up out of the blue and told me she was coming back to Nashville. ‘I might have something,’ she’d said. ‘Can you listen and let me know what you think?’”
I look out to the audience, feel something warm inside me at the familiar faces. “That’swhen I knew. Alone, I’m all right, but together?” I reach for Lorelai’s hand and kiss her knuckles. “We’re unstoppable.”
“Together we’re unstoppable,” my wife repeats in a whisper, her fingers squeezing mine tight.
