Page 70 of Regards, Mia

“Get off the stage, then,” comes a good-natured catcall.

“Give me a minute,” Brad says smiling. “First, I’d like to propose a toast.”

Servers walk around with trays of the signature cocktail, something pink with an umbrella. Jay takes two and hands one to me.

We raise our glasses as Brad toasts the bride and groom, and everyone drinks.

“It wouldn’t be a celebration without karaoke. We all know how much Max loves it. Our first brave soul to sing tonight is cousin Marty. Everyone give him a hand.”

The crowd erupts in cheers as an older man comes on the stage. He selects a Celine Dion classic and sings with remarkably good pitch.

Next is a young cousin barely out of her teens who does an emotional Billie Eilish impression.

“Here’s the man of the hour,” Brad says as Max strolls onto the stage.

He’s wearing a tropical print shirt, shorts and flip-flops, and he looks more relaxed than he should on the eve of his wedding. My brother has always been more comfortable in front of a crowd than he is one-on-one. He loves being the center of attention.

“This one’s for you, baby,” Max says as the first notes of John Legend’s “All of Me” begins to play.

Max opens his mouth, and the crowd falls silent, listening to his amazing voice. Mom tears up as she watches her son pour his heart out on the stage.

Jay leans closer to me. “He’s good.”

“Yeah, I know.” My darling brother is good at everything.

When Max finishes up to a loud round of applause, Brad announces the next singer.

“Mia, come on up!”

A lump forms in my throat, and my stomach clenches. I don’t think I can move.

Jay squeezes my hand. “You don’t have to do it.”

But of course, I do.

If I don’t, everyone will think I’m a loser.

I make my way up to the stage with shaky knees. While Brad launches into a quick story about the first time he met Samantha, I leaf through the book of songs. Nothing seems quite right, then I land on the Taylor Swift song I like to sing in the shower.

I make my selection and wait impatiently while Brad wraps up his monologue to another round of applause.

“Knock ‘em dead,” he says, winking as he passes me the microphone.

Growing up, Brad could never get enough of teasing me. My inability to carry a tune or play any sport involving a ball were sources of great amusement to everyone in my family.

The music starts, and a quick glance at the audience assures me all eyes are on me. My mom is leaning forward in her seat, a worried look on her face. My dad is smiling hopefully as if I magically learned how to harmonize since the last time he heard me sing.

I’m going to disappoint him and everyone else who thinks all members of the James family are like Brad and Max.

Nope, there’s me. Smart and sassy, but hopelessly untalented.

Anxiety races through me, and I’m tempted to drop the mic and run off stage as fast as my high heels will allow.

The song is well into the first verse, and I have yet to open my mouth. I should be singing, but instead I’m frozen on the stage.

My gaze flickers over the audience and lands on Jay. His warm brown eyes are a balm to my frazzled nerves. I open my mouth, but no words come out, and before I know what’s happening, Jay is striding onto the stage, taking the microphone from my hand and pointing at the stool for me to sit.

He sings the first line, and I’m blown away. I’m glad I’m sitting down, because Jay’s rich, smooth baritone is enough to make me swoon for the first time in my life.

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