Page 117 of Sounds Like Love

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there,” I replied, pulling my arms around him.He kissed my cheek. “I’m glad you’re here. The AC is broken. And I’m starting to freak out. But I’m so glad you made it in time. How was your flight?”

“Too long, as always. I think I’m going to turn that back room into a studio.”

I rolled my eyes, unraveling my hug, and took my beer. We sat down in the creaky theater seats. It felt like a lifetime ago we’d been up here whispering secrets over a Jimmy Buffett tribute band. “You always say that.”

“I think I mean it this time,” he replied. “What do you think?”

That surprised me. “Really?”

He took a sip of his root beer. “Really. And I was thinking maybe …” He went quiet. Thoughtful.

I waited patiently. “Maybe … ?”

“I think the AC’s back on,” he said, though it wasn’t what he was going to say. It distracted me enough, however, and I turned around to look at the air ducts. The streamers tied to the vents were, in fact, twirling.

I melted with relief. “Oh, thankgod.”

“Everything is going to be great, bird,” he said, sitting back in his seat. “Just breathe.”

I had half a mind to tell him that anything could go wrong at any moment, but instead I … did as he told me. I sat back, and I breathed.

Tonight was Georgia Simmons’s first show in Vienna Shores—her first show at the Revelry. Earlier this summer she opened for Willa Grey’s new tour, and with a few songs Sasha and I had written for her, you could see the stirring of something good. Something magical. But tonight was special.

The walkie-talkie at my hip crackled with the voice of the stage manager, and my tech radioed back signaling that they were ready. I’d hired a few more people to help out with the music hall—two new bartenders, sound and lighting techs, and a stage manager, positions that the Revelry had in its heyday—and you could see the spark of life returning with each new show.

The houselights went down.

Then the curtains opened.

And the show began.

Gigi was a piece of art in the spotlight. She soaked it in like a sunflower, blooming so big it made the rest of the world impossible to see. The crowd moved with her, her excitement infectious. My apprehension quickly morphed to awe.

There, onstage, was my best friend.

I had never seen anyone shine so bright.

I folded my arms over each other and leaned against the railing, and I couldn’t stop smiling. From this angle, I could see a little bit backstage, where Dad and Mitch watched from the wings. Dad dabbed his eyes with the corner of his ascot and said something to my brother. I couldn’t hear it, but I could guess what he said—

“That’s our girl. That’s our Gigi.”

And Mitch just smiled and smiled and smiled, and never took his eyes off her.

You would’ve loved this, Mom, I thought, imagining her just there on the other side of Mitch, singing along.

Maybe she was.

Sasha leaned against the railing with me. “What’re you thinking about?”

The cost of a new AC unit. The next song I wanted Gigi to listen to.Partnering with Iwan’s restaurant in town for some food, maybe. But most of all, I was thinking—“Us,” I replied with a smile, and kissed him gently on the mouth.

He tasted like root beer, and smelled like air travel and bergamot, and I still could never get enough of him.

Then familiar notes drifted through the Revelry. A pop ballad in D major, with a key change in the last third. It was the first song we gave to Gigi, and we knew she could sing it best. We were right. This song was once about Sasha and me. About warring with who you are and who you were meant to be, but it had turned into an anthem for all the people who shone brightest in someone else’s eyes.

Sasha and I had sung it well, but Gigi gave new life to it, and now the crowd below us sang the song at the top of their lungs with her.

The tempo was our heartbeats as I savored Sasha’s kisses. And just after the bridge, I decided to tell him what was really on my mind, whispering it against his lips. “So, if you move your studio here, you’ll likely need a place to live … Do you want to move in with me?”

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