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ged her back into the chair.
Apparently she had not planned to come see him tonight. The redhead had lured her here. He’d have to buy Bree’s friend a drink later.
Taking a deep breath, Ian decided to play “I’ll Love You Forever” for his next song. It was a risk. If she truly didn’t want to sit through his show, this song would push her out the door. If she stayed, she might be receptive to the other tune he had in store for later tonight.
He started in on the song he’d written for her all those years ago. His gaze flicked over her, noting a stiffness in her posture, but she hadn’t left. She was listening intently, a drink in her hand. He sang as sincerely as he could, and by the end of the song, she had relaxed with a small smile curling her lips.
The applause for that song was bigger than any other one so far. Given it was an original they’d never heard before, he felt a boost of confidence surge through him.
“That song,” Ian said into the microphone, “was written for my college sweetheart. I promised her that I would love her forever. As many of us know, life can get in the way of our plans. We didn’t stay together, but I kept my promise. I have never, ever stopped loving her. Even years later, no other woman has touched my heart the way she does.”
Bree’s wary blue gaze was focused on him the entire time he spoke. Her expression was painfully neutral, not allowing him insight into what she was thinking or feeling about his words. All he could do was charge forward.
“That lovely lady,” Ian continued, “is here tonight. I won’t embarrass her by pointing her out, but I wanted everyone to know because this next song is about her, too. It’s a new song, one I wrote over the past few weeks that we’ve been apart. You see, I was an idiot, as the male of the species tends to be, and I screwed up my second chance with her.”
In response to his confession there was a rumble in the crowd, punctuated by a woman’s loud shout of “Men suck!” from the bar.
Ian laughed, thankful it wasn’t Bree who’d shouted it. “Sometimes we do. I won’t argue that. Being miserable and alone inspired me to write this song.” His gaze traveled back to Bree. “I wrote it in the hopes that she would hear it, realize how much I love her and give me another chance.”
Bree’s pink lips parted slightly as though she were sucking in a gasp of air. He wasn’t quite sure what to think of it. She hadn’t rushed into his arms, but she hadn’t left. She seemed receptive, even though he’d hurt her. That’s all he could ask for.
“If she doesn’t, you can come home with me!” another woman shouted from a table on the right.
Ian smiled at her and started strumming his guitar. “Well, thank you, sweetheart. It’s always good to have a backup plan,” he replied to a chorus of laughter from the crowd. “The song I wrote for her is called ‘Love Me Anyway.’”
This was the moment that counted. How Bree received this song would determine how the rest of the night would play out. There were several possible outcomes, the best being walking out of here with Bree forgiving him and agreeing to marry him. The worst, with Bree leaving with her girlfriends and Ian getting drunk and going home with the mouthy brunette.
The song was fast-paced and humorous. It wasn’t like any song he’d written before. The lyrics were nothing more than a laundry list of his flaws set to a catchy melody. He was certain Bree was aware of each of them, even if she had been too polite to point them out. He knew he worked too much. He needed help prioritizing his life. He needed to have more fun and less stress. He ate too much junk food. He snored louder than a rabid badger during allergy season. He had weirdly shaped toes. Nobody was perfect. But he loved her more than anything else in the world. The chorus announced that he was a work in progress and then asked her to love him despite all that.
That part earned him a round of applause from the crowd and a smile from Bree. The second verse was more of a risk. It was a list of her flaws. She was an emotional live wire. She hogged the covers. She owned a cell phone that had previously belonged to Fred Flintstone. She cheated at Scrabble. She always thought she was right. She was pushy and could nag a man into his grave. Last, she had the ability to see right through him, making him absolutely insane.
But he loved her, anyway.
They were both works in progress and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her no matter how long their lists of flaws became. If they improved over the years and ended up polished like diamonds when they were older, great. But if they just got fat together and bickered over the little things twenty-four hours a day, that was great, too. He just wanted to be with her, just as she was, and he hoped she felt the same way.
Every word was true. As he finished playing the last few chords of the song, he looked up to find Bree smiling through her tears. Bingo.
The crowd stood to applaud the song, blocking his view of her. Shouts of “forgive him” could be heard over the roar. Ian didn’t wait for the applause to stop before he left the stage. He unplugged his guitar and stepped down into the sea of people and tables.
His chest was tight with excitement and his brain swirled with scenarios as he finally reached her table. Suddenly, he realized something wasn’t right. He was in the right place, but there was no tearful, smiling blonde waiting for him with open arms.
Bree was gone.
* * *
Bree had to get out of there. She couldn’t breathe. The rush of emotions and the swell of the applause had combined to press against her chest like an anvil. She’d bolted before the other girls could stop her, hitting an emergency exit door and dashing into the alley behind the bar.
The air was cold and stung as it rushed in and out of her lungs, but she didn’t care. It was better than being in there. Listening to him tell her how much he loved her and asking if she would do the same. She didn’t know what to say. She did love him, despite his weird toes and his workaholic tendencies. She wished she didn’t, but she did.
She sagged back against the brick facade of the building, her burgundy leather jacket protecting her from the rough surface. All the energy she had was sucked out by the emotional upheaval, leaving her legs feeling like quivering gelatin as the building held her up. She needed to pull herself together. One of the girls would follow her out here eventually. Standing in an alley sobbing was not healthy.
Bree wiped away her tears and dropped her face into her hands. How had this happened? This was supposed to be a night on the town with her friends to forget about Ian. Instead, Amelia had tricked her into coming here, saying she wanted to try this new place she’d seen but with a name she couldn’t remember. Bree didn’t even realize they were at the same place on the same night until she heard him playing on the small stage. The snoop had read her mail.
Betrayal. She was calling Amelia “Brutus” from now on. A wicked, redheaded meddler! Bree had tried to leave the moment she’d figured out what was going on, hopefully before Ian saw her, but it was no use. Amelia and Gretchen had grabbed her and tugged her into the chair. Gretchen had driven so Bree would have had to call a cab to leave. She’d also have to listen to them complain about her being a coward every day for the next year or so if she’d left.
So she’d stayed. And look what came of it! He’d bared his heart and soul to a room full of strangers. He’d made her laugh, made her cry and made her question everything. Just when she’d finally seemed to pull herself out of the doldrums.
The emergency exit door opened. Bree expected Natalie or Amelia to step out, but instead, it was Ian.
