Page 103 of Wait For It

Shit.

A jolt of something strange passed through my chest, similar to the feeling I got when we lost a game. It wasn’t just about the song. Music was her passion, and I’d just crapped all over it.

“Anyone ever told you that you look like an uglier version of that baseball player?” The bartender accused with a scowl. “What’s his name—Reeves?”

“Oh, my goodness. He really does,” Ari agreed with a laugh, not meeting my gaze. “What a funny coincidence!”

He continued staring me down for a beat before directing her over to the stage. “Sweetheart, Pat’s got the binder down there. Just give him your name, and he’ll put you on the list.”

When she turned back to me, I saw the hurt reflected in her eyes, leaving me feeling no better than Helen or that asshole, Brad. It was apparent she was preparing for me to say no, so I swallowed my pride and squeezed her shoulder.

“Come on. Let’s go pick your song!”

Ari’s eyes lit up. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious, slugger.”

She was practically bouncing as she dragged me toward a small table near the back before going down to the stage. I kept my head down, hoping no one recognized my face in the dim lighting.

Obscurity didn’t last, and I spent the next several minutes halfheartedly scribbling my signature while watching Ari flip through the binder of songs. Her face was a mask of concentration, softening as she leaned in to ask Pat a question.

When he nodded in response, her mouth stretched into a wide grin, and she began clapping. I knew then I’d not only endure more Mariah Carey songs, but I’d also be willing to rip my own heart out if it made her happy.

Ari returned to the table, trying and failing to contain her excitement. She was like Bailey when he was jacked up on energy drinks. Her knees bounced underneath the table, and she kept sneaking glances toward the stage.

“What are you going to sing?” I asked, taking her hand in mine. “I don’t think anyone’s done ‘Fantasy’ yet.”

“It’s not really in my vocal range.”

“Christ.” I winced as the woman on stage butchered her way through ‘Heartbreaker’ while her date tried his hand at rapping Jay-Z’s lines. “I don’t think Mariah Carey’s in anyone’s vocal range, but it’s not stopping these people.”

Ari gave a short burst of laughter before shaking her head. “Don’t worry, I’ll be singing one of my own songs.”

“Really?” I gawked.

“Yeah, really.” Her whole face lit up as she spoke over the noise. “You cheered me up tonight, maybe more than you even know. This is my way of saying thank you!”

When they announced her name, my heart slammed against my ribs in a staccato rhythm. I studied her as she approached the microphone, no longer seeing the shy girl I’d met, but a woman who looked right at home on stage.

“Hey,” she said with a breathless smile. “I’m Ari ,and I’d like to sing y’all a song.”

It damn near made my teeth ache with how adorably sweet this girl was.

Just like in a game, everything around me faded into the background as the opening bars began to play. I didn’t recognize the song, but it didn’t even matter once she opened her mouth.

My jaw hung slack because Ari wasn’t just a good singer—she was a fucking phenomenon. Someone let out a whoop of approval, and I laughed, overcome by a random urge to hug everyone.

There was a strange sense of camaraderie among the audience, a collective energy we all shared, thanks to her. When she reached the chorus, people began clapping, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. It wasn’t just her incredible voice.

She was singing about me.

The song was one you’d expect to hear at church—not an Irish pub—but the lyrics were familiar to me in a way I couldn’t explain. It was like Ari had taken what happened to me at the lake and set it to music, which was impossible as I’d only told her the story a little over a month ago.

And even then, I hadn’t given her all the details. I thought I was completely crazy until Ari ended the song by repeating the phrase, “You are good.”

I didn’t believe in signs or messages from above, but those three words hit me like a fastball to the heart, turning everything I thought I knew on its head.

Tears stung my eyes, and I sucked in a breath, before joining the rest of the bar in giving my girl a standing ovation. She pushed her way through the crowd, accepting the compliments with a casual shrug and self-conscious blush.

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