Page 83 of Going Solo

Panic began to rise inside me.

“I love you, Cole!” a woman shouted. Thousands of Kenneddicts cheered.

“I love you too,” he said. More screams. He waited for them to die down. “Who here has lost someone they should have held on to?” he asked the crowd. Another cheer, more subdued than the last. That’s when I realised Cole was going to tell our story onstage. This would fire our fledgling flirtation out of a cannon and onto the front page of every newspaper across the country. I waved frantically, trying to get Cole’s attention. My heart rate climbed rapidly up through its gears. I couldn’t breathe. Tremors made it hard to stand upright. I willed Cole to hear my thoughts, willed him to look in my direction.

“Some people think this is a song about unrequited love,” he said. “But this is a song about hope.”

Finally,Cole looked over at me. He smiled that trademark smirk, winked, and played the opening notes of our song. Relief washed through my body like that first, glorious colonic irrigation after Christmas. Nick rolled up silently beside me and hit me on the leg, nearly making me jump out of my skin.

“You OK, pal? You look like you’ve passed a kidney stone.”

At the end of the show, after the “Genevieve” encore and five curtain calls, Cole ran off the stage and scooped me up into his arms. He spun me around, his lips finding mine.

“What are you boys doing now?” he said, putting me down. “Do you want to come back to the house for a bite?” His eyes looked hopeful.

“Are you including me in this invitation?” Nick asked.

“Of course,” Cole replied.

Nick shook his head. “That’s very nice of you, but Friday night is date night, and I’m FaceTiming my husband in half an hour. Tonight, he’s recreating the scene inTrue Lieswhere Jamie Lee Curtis strips for Arnold Schwarzenegger. He’s spent all week learning the choreography. I cannot let him down.”

Cole spluttered.

“I’m sorry, he says things like this sometimes,” I said.

“I’ll leave you two to your baseball game.” Nick winked and unhooked the brakes on his wheels. “Don’t forget we’ve got a production meeting at ten, Tobes.” He spun around and rolled away.

“Two for dinner, then?” Cole asked, putting an arm around my shoulder. “I have to go do the meet-and-greet, but Mitch will stop by your hotel and pick you up in an hour?—”

“No,” I said, surprising myself almost as much as Cole. “Not tonight. It’s been a big day. I need to sleep.”

Cole frowned. “Have I done something wrong?”

No, but he nearly had—and I hadn’t liked it. Not one bit.

“Tell me,” he said.

“Fine. I thought you were about to tell sixteen thousand strangers our business, and it scared the hell out of me.”

Cole looked worried. “Did it happen again?”

I nodded.

Out of nowhere, Cole yelled, “Clear the stage!”

Somewhere, someone repeated his order, and people scurried away like mice. Within seconds, the backstage area was quiet except for the distant sounds of the last Kenneddicts shuffling out of the auditorium.

“Toby, I am so sorry,” Cole said. “I didn’t think. I should have. I feel terrible. Now I’ve caused a second panic attack. Please, forgive me.”

“Two?” I scoffed. “You’ve caused hundreds, mate.”

Something seemed to click in Cole’s brain, finally. I could see it in his face.

“I promise I’ll do better,” he said, reaching for my hands. “The last one you had scared the hell out of me. I didn’t know what to do. Tell me what you need from me. I’ll do anything.”

“You can start by not telling sixteen thousand strangers about us.”

Cole nodded. “I hear you. I got carried away, and I’m genuinely sorry. It’s just… I’m so happy, I want to shout about it from the rooftops. I want to run up to strangers in the street and tell them I’ve won the golden ticket. I want to pay Russian hackers to spam people’s social media accounts with the news that Cole Kennedy has convinced the most amazing guy in the world to at least give him a shot.” Cole’s hands held my shoulders, his eyes pleading. “I get that you’re not ready. I can wait.”

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