Page 22 of All You Need Is Love

Terrible, terrible idea.

He side-eyed Shannon. Terrible … but totally worth it.

Jules breezed past them and exchanged places with Cameron. “As always, thank you to Cam for providing some much-needed laughter.” She waited until the crowd’s snickers died down. “Next up, we have a newbie to our little reunion—though who knows. Someday he might be a regular part of the lineup.”

Sheesh. Marshall barely held back an inner groan. Shannon shifted from one foot to the other beside him.

“Please welcome to the stage our lovely Quinn’s boyfriend, Mr. Marshall St. John!”

“Break a leg,” Shannon said as he walked away from her.

She might want to actually break his leg after what he was about to pull. He snagged the microphone from Jules and waited for her to exit the stage. “Thank you everyone for having me. I can’t tell you how much fun I’m having here with you all.”

Okay, fun was stretching it, but they were nice people and under normal circumstances—aka not lying—he might be having fun.

“I love being up here too, but tonight I want to invite someone to the stage for a duet.”

Some aahs echoed from the crowd. Great. They thought he was asking Quinn. And Quinn herself looked at him sideways but, smile plastered to her lips, started to stand.

He hurried toward stage right, walked down the steps, and offered his hand to Shannon. “Shannon Baker, will you sing with me?”

She shrank back, hands firmly gripping the boa around her neck, stretching it so tight he thought it might snap. “What? No.”

Marshall held the microphone up to his mouth and turned to the crowd. “A little bird told me that Shannon here is an amazing singer, but seems she’s a bit shy and could use some encouragement.”

Her family applauded and cheered. “Come on, Shannon! You’ve got this!”

Shannon licked her lips and shook her head. “I can’t.”

“You can do this,” Marshall said off mic. “Come on. I’ll be with you every step of the way. Ain’t no mountain high, right?” Once again, he held out his hand.

Shannon stared at it.

She was going to turn him down, make him look like an idiot.

Maybe he was one.

But before he knew what was happening, she’d slipped her hand inside his and fireworks exploded in his chest. He wanted to lean in and touch her forehead with his own, to whisper his confidence in her. But that would be much too intimate and look much worse than asking his “girlfriend’s” sister to sing with him instead of his girlfriend herself.

Together, they climbed the stage, and Marshall unhooked a second microphone from the stand to the left and handed it to Shannon. The upbeat music threaded through the auditorium. Shannon stood straight as a queen, eyes unblinking as they took in the audience. Hers seemed to land on Quinn, whose frown was as big as one of the billboards in Times Square.

Oh well. Too late to back out now.

Marshall started in, crooning the first few lines until it was Shannon’s turn.

As if finally realizing what was happening, she sputtered out a line or two, her voice soft, brittle, choked.

How could he get her to relax into this? Maybe if she forgot about the crowd, her nerves would dissipate.

Crossing the stage, he snagged her hand again and turned her to face him—only him. Marshall smiled at her while she finished squeaking out her solo. Squeezing her hand, he launched into the chorus.

And slowly, magically, she started to follow. Started to lean into the music, to loosen.

To soar.

Ashley had been right. The girl could sing.

A smile as wide as the rivers they sang about overtook Shannon’s face. She even swayed in time to the beat, finally dropping his hand and using it to clutch her heart, to emphasize the words, showcasing her sassiness and talent and … joy.

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