Page 16 of Hope & Harmony

Madeline slides her stool over until I can almost feel her body heat against my arm. “Do you have a specific process?” Shepeers down at my notepad, but all it holds is a bunch of illegible scribbles. “I don’t think I’ve ever asked you.”

I push the notebook toward her. “Not really. I start a new page when the vibe of the lyrics shift.”

She turns one page, her eyes scanning the lines. “You must go through a lot of notebooks.”

I have more stacks of them than I care to admit. They are everywhere in my loft, and eventually, they became more of a part of the décor than they should. “I can’t seem to go digital. I’ve tried, but it kills my creativity. There’s something about paper and pen that I can’t shake.”

“Writing words by hand gives your mind time to process and move forward. Typing is too fast.”

“You haven’t seen me type.” I laugh, almost embarrassed at how slow and awful I am at it. “I peck at the keys at an excruciatingly slow pace.”

“I amend my statement, then… You’re too busy trying to find the next letter instead of thinking about the next word.”

“Something like that,” I tell her before taking another sip of my drink.

She reaches into her purse and pulls out a well-worn piece of paper. “Do you want to see what I have?”

I take the paper from her hand and gently unfold it because it looks like it’ll disintegrate in my hands if I’m too rough. I scan the page, reading over the words that are beautiful but slightly disjointed. “What’s the melody?”

“Do you want me to sing it for you?”

I’m envious of her ability to stand up in front of a crowded room and belt out a song. I’ve never been able to. It’s the one thing that’s kept me a songwriter instead of a performer. I’m a behind-the-scenes guy with my name as the writer of more than one hundred hit songs over the last decade.

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

She touches my bare arm with her soft, warm fingertips. “It’s no trouble. You’re the one helping me. I’d stand on my head if you thought it would help.”

“While the idea is entertaining, it wouldn’t help at all, which is a shame.”

She laughs, and the sound is more beautiful than any ballad I’ve ever heard. “You’re ridiculous sometimes, but it’s part of your charm.”

Is Madeline flirting with me? I want to believe she is, but I’ve never been the smartest person when it comes to romance.

I turn around on my stool as she heads toward the stage with her lyrics still in my hand.

I watch her intently as she adjusts the microphone, raising the stand higher to be closer to her lips.

She clears her throat, the sound echoing in the mostly empty bar. “Don’t judge me too harshly,” she says, her eyes pinned on me.

“Never,” I promise her.

A beat-up guitar is near the left side of the stage, and she grabs it, lifting the strap over her shoulder. Her fingers move over the strings, and when she’s satisfied with the tuning, she steps up to the microphone again.

I can’t take my eyes off her as she begins to sing. The sound coming out of her lips sends goose bumps scattering across my skin, and the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. There’s no one else in the music industry with a voice like hers.

I close my eyes, trying to concentrate on the words instead of her pretty face. The lyrics and melody flow beautifully throughout the first verse and chorus, but I can tell she falters with the second verse because her voice becomes quieter and less sure.

The song is slow and emotional, bringing the listener along on the journey of heartbreak after a long and deep love.

The words tug on my heartstrings, something that doesn’t happen easily because I’ve been told I’m not good at explaining and exploring my feelings, even though most of my songs are about love and heartbreak.

I open my eyes when the stool down the way slides against the tile floor. The man stumbles in my direction and pauses right in front of me. “Don’t be an idiot. That girl likes you,” he mumbles before he shuffles toward the door.

I turn my gaze back toward Madeline as she sets the guitar back down on the stand. “Well,” she says while she walks down the few steps from the old stage. “See what I mean? Got any ideas?”

Thanks to the guy, I have more ideas than I ever thought possible.

CHAPTER 2

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