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The stage was dark when we got there. Jillian grabbed us some drinks, handing me my signature Mango-rita, and placing a few beers on the table for everyone else. Harrison ran his hand through his messy hair and Holden wrapped his arm around his wife’s chair. Everyone had gone skiing before the show, you could see it in their eyes that they were tired and probably wished they could just crawl into bed. But since the kids were with the grandparents, seeing a movie, it was another sibling’s night—this time in full support of Elliot.
The show was supposed to start at eight, and with only five minutes until showtime, the place was starting to get crowded. It wasn’t at full capacity—I had seen this place more cramped during a karaoke night—but everyone was here for the purpose of seeing Elliot. Just the thought made the knots in my stomach grow.
I regretted not going to his shows with Madeline. I hated that I missed five months of this. If I could take it all back . . . but that wasn’t an option. From now on, though, I’ll be at every one of his shows. Even if it meant staying out until late to make sure he enjoyed himself, or leaving work a little early to help him set up. I wanted to be there for all of it. I loved this feeling it created—the butterflies. The thrill of knowing he was going to be on that stage with just him and his guitar . . . I shuddered.
Was it time yet?
I pulled my phone out of my bag, a small smile gracing my lips as I saw a text from Elliot.
Elliot:The first song is yours, ok – don’t judge me for it later.
Without hesitation, I swiped to Madeline’s name, hitting the green camera.
“Hey . . .” Madeline smiled. “Where are you?”
“I’m at a bar, Ell . . . Daxton is about to play.” I raised my eyebrows, hoping she’d catch on.
Her smile widened and second later Milo appeared in the camera.
“We’resohere for that,” he shouted.
“He said the first one was for me . . . Milo, what song is it?”
Milo’s smile grew, while Madeline looked over her shoulder at her husband, her jaw dropping. Closing his mouth and biting on his bottom lip, Milo wiggled his eyebrows and walked away.
“No . . . Maddy, what is it?”
“What time is the show?” she asked.
Tapping on the screen, the small clock appeared. “In three minutes.”
“Flip the screen, I want to watch.”
“You gotta tell me what the song is.”
“Jamie . . . just listen.” She gave me a slight nod. “Now, flip the camera. I want to see.”
I did as she asked, holding the phone on the table in a spot where she could see the stage. The lights dimmed and a small cheer came from the crowd. Harrison slapped my shoulder and twisted in his chair to face the stage while Jillian settled into Will’s side and Madeline was focused on her screen, Milo, once again with her.
Seconds later, Elliot came out and gave the crowd a wave, taking his seat on the stool that was provided, he propped his guitar on his knee and, without saying anything, he began to play.
I knew the song, it was one that played at my work, one that I knew he had learned, thanks to Madeline’s wedding. One that wasn’t his normal sound, one that mentioned mango-ritas and kissing on the dance floor. This song, without doubt, was us.Unforgettable,by none other than Thomas Rhett, had written our relationship before we were even a thought, and it reminded Elliot of me.
The entire time he sang, his eyes were on me and, when he sang the line about marrying, his smile grew, and he raised an eyebrow. He could ask me tonight, and I would say yes. This man had me wrapped around his pinky finger and I don’t think he even knows.
I couldn’t say exactly what I was feeling, but I knew it was a lot stronger than I gave it credit for. Elliot Whittaker had me . . . all of me.
The song ended and the audience clapped, Elliot smiled into the mic and knocked on the body of the guitar.
“Hey, everyone,” he said, his voice filling the room. “I always like to start off with a song to gain your attention and, even though that song was for a certain person, I hope it worked. I’m Daxton Whittaker, and I’m here from Portland, Oregon. A week ago, I was dragged up for karaoke night and Pete then hunted me down and asked me if I’d like to play. So here I am, with a new, fancy guitar and a set list. I hope you don’t mind hearing a slow, easy set tonight.” He winked, and the only thing that kept me from falling to the floor was the chair I was sitting on.
A few other girls whooped, making Elliot look their way, giving them a chuckle.
“Back in Portland, I’m the lead singer of a band called Savaged Whittakers—who will be playing here next Thursday, so tonight, I’ll give you a glimpse of a few of our songs. I have a few covers to sing, and a few of my own, but I promise not to bore you. And, if you like what you hear, you can find us online and make sure to come see us on Thursday, that will be a hell of a show, I can guarantee that.” He situated his guitar and used his pick to strum through the cords. “So, without further ado . . .”
“Jamie . . .” I heard Madeline’s voice faintly. I hunched my shoulders to look at the screen, flipping her back around to see me. “That song has always reminded him of you, ever since he first saw you drinking a Mango-rita.”
“Funny how fitting it is . . . isn’t it?”
