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Chapter One
-Elliot-
Five Months Ago
I belonged on the stage.
I loved every single part about being on stage—the guitar strings on my fingers, the sweat on my brow, the mic against my lips, the lights.
Especially the lights.
When the spotlight hit my band, we blew up; we became who we were meant to be. Normally the lights were hot, beating down on us, but tonight there weren’t a lot of lights focused on us as I sang. My band wasn’t the focus tonight—the bride and groom were. With a makeshift stage set up on the Oregon coast, it was cooler and a completely different setting than I was used to. Still, I sang every song with the same passion I always did as I watched my best friend, Milo, dance with Madeline, his new wife and the woman of his dreams.
And thankfully, tonight, no one seemed to notice how many times I stumbled over a word or two.
I couldn’t help myself—she was always in my line of sight.
Jamie Gaines . . .
The one that hadn’t left my mind since the first time I saw her months ago at The Piano Bar. And tonight, her strawberry blonde hair fell over her shoulders in waves—her gray eyes sparkled when she smiled. Even from the stage, when I heard her laugh, I had to focusnotto laugh with her. Her personality was contagious.
Jamie sat with Clay and Ophelia, her chin in her palms as she smiled at them. Then, when Ophelia turned her head to kiss Clay, she turned away, and for a moment, her eyes met mine. I held onto the note, pushing through to the end of the song, before quickly turning away to grab my water bottle.
“What’s next, Ell?” the drummer, Chase, asked, his drumstick flying through his fingers.
I swallowed. He had the set list right in front of him. He only asked because he knew I was getting distracted.
“Um, yea . . .” I fumbled, trying to remember what was next. Normally I had the set list memorized. “‘Grave.’ Clay and Phe’s favorite. Let’s get those two other love birds on the floor, shall we?”
Chase gave me a cheeky grin and put his hands on his knees, knowing he wouldn’t be needed for a while for this particular song. As much as the kid loved to bang on the drums, sometimes he just liked to sit back and relax while Bennett, Jameson, and I did all the work. The start of this song was just me, and me alone, and the others joined me after the first verse.
As soon as that first line left my lips, I noticed Ophelia. She leaned into Clay, and in an instant, he stood, leading her out to the dance floor. I watched my friends for a few moments, simply enjoying the fact that the once grump had finally found his sunshine, but as soon as the band picked up and there was more depth to the song, my eyes began to wander.
Where did Jamie take off to?
Milo and Madeline were pressed against each other, Holly danced with her grandpa Wallace, Clay and Ophelia were giving each other small, sweet kisses as they swayed, and Jamie was . . . alone. She had moved to a different table, her phone staring back at her as she scrolled. Every now and then she would sit up, raise her phone to the crowd and smile as she presumably took a photo of the happy couples on the dance floor.
For the first time since I started my singing career, I found myself wishing I wasn’t on the stage. I wanted to walk up to her, one hand in my pocket, the other, extended to ask her for a dance. She would accept, of course, and then we would sway to the music—to whomever was singing because it wouldn't be me. I would sing along for her though, so only she would be able to hear my voice. And then at the end of the song, I’d lift her chin and kiss her.
But alas, I was on the stage.
I pulled my focus back into the song. With the guitar solos almost over, and Bennett’s backup ending, it was my time to shine again. I didn’t have much longer on this stage, and I needed to pull myself together to enjoy it.
Pull through your set, Elliot. Then you can talk to her.
Ten more songs. That’s all it was . . . ten more songs.
Man, they felt like the longest songs on the face of the earth.
“Congratulations, Milo and Madeline,” I said, slightly out of breath as I finished the last song, pushing the sweat off my brow. “Now, if everyone can, please give the bride and groom a few minutes before we see them off. Please grab a tube from the basket and line up so they can do the cheesy run through thing while we shower them with bubbles!”
I flung my guitar over my shoulder, unplugging it from the amp to jump off the stage. Chase, Bennett, and Jameson followed, a larger skip in their step as they made their way toward the bride and groom.
Everyone—and I mean everyone—grabbed a tube of bubbles. The newlyweds held hands and began to slowly walk to the truck—which turned into a run as soon as the soapy bubbles began to flythrough the air. Everyone laughed as Milo used his hands to brush the soap out of his and Madeline’s hair before giving his bride one last kiss as they climbed in the car.
The crowd began to disperse, leaving the wedding party and event staff to fold the tables and pick up. I stuck to the stage, wrapping wires around my arm as Jameson and Chase worked on his drum set.
Bennett came up, slapping my shoulder as he passed to where his guitar sat. “That was a great set, Elliot.”
