Page 81 of One More Made Up Love Song
“Amazing how well it works.”
Her shoulders lift in laughter, and satisfaction makes my heart stretch.
“That one is better,” Leo says. “But you still shouldn’t quit your day job.”
“Don’t make him stop,” Ivy says to Leo. “He’s distracting me. And it’s exactly what I need right now.” She takes a deep breath and leans into me, looping her arm through mine. “Thank you,” she says softly, and I lean down and press a kiss to her forehead.
The action feels more like a reflex than a conscious choice, and I pause, holding my breath to see how she’ll react. Did I cross a line? We aren’t exactly pretending here, when everyone in the car already knows the truth.
But Ivy doesn’t flinch. She just snuggles a little closer, relaxing into me as she takes a few slow, even breaths.
I don’t have time to think about what her actions mightmean because we’ve just pulled up in front of the theater. Leo will get out first, then a few minutes later, Ivy and I will follow, giving the photographers lining the red carpet long enough to grab any shots they need. Once we’ve all walked the carpet, we’ll pose at the end, just the four band members, then I’ll reunite with Ivy, and we’ll head toward the line of press doing interviews. Kat sent over the names of the journalists hoping to get a few minutes with me, but I’m welcome to stop and talk to anyone else if I’m feeling good.
For me, it will be about whether Ivy feels good.
For years, events like this one have been easy. The spotlight is easy for me. I’m good at thinking on my feet, at putting people at ease. All things that make interviews and red carpets easy.
But tonight, Ivy’s my focus. And that changes things.
Not in a bad way. It feels good to be thinking about something besides my own image. It feels good to feel like I’m living for something bigger. Forhercomfort.Herwell-being.
I don’t know where the thought comes from, but the image of my grandfather pops into my head.
The first time he ever saw me perform with Midnight Rush, the band was back in Seattle, performing in the football stadium of the high school I attended before moving to Nashville. It was just a few days before my sixteenth birthday, and my grandfather came backstage to see me and give me my birthday present.
To my surprise, the gift was his guitar, the same vintage Gibson I have tattooed on my torso and the one I still play with whenever I have the option. He’d never let me play it before—he taught me to play on something much less expensive—so it was significant that he decided to give it to me then.
“You’re growing up, Freddie,” he said after I opened the case and pulled out the guitar. “Now get out there and make me proud.”
I like to think that if he could, he’d say the same to me tonight.You’re growing up, Freddie.
I hope I’m still making him proud.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Freddie
“Just follow my lead,”I whisper to Ivy as I help her out of the car. Even though she’s watched me do this a million times from the outside, it’s a different experience when all the cameras are aimed at you. I think back to the morning after the kiss at Margot’s, when we’d just barely decided to keep up the facade of our relationship. I climbed out of the car, not unlike I’m doing now, turned, and helped Ivy out.
But tonight feels so much bigger than that first moment. It’s not just fans watching. It’s media. Press. Dozens of photographers with zoom lenses and prepared questions.
But my feelings are bigger too. I’m more sure of what they are, even if I do still have questions, which makes the stakes feel so much higher.
Ivy nods as we make our way forward, her hand looped through my arm. And then we’re in it. Posing, smiling, looking this way and that.
People know who she is—they’re calling her name asoften as they’re calling mine. She handles herself like a pro, but I take every chance I get to lean down and whisper encouragement into her ear, to press a firm hand to the small of her back so she doesn’t forget I’m right beside her.
It doesn’t take long to make it down the length of the carpet, where Ivy steps to the side long enough for me to pose for a few photos with the rest of Midnight Rush.
“Can we get Freddie in the middle?” a photographer calls out.
“Is there a middle when there are four of us?” Jace asks as he and I switch places so I’m no longer standing on the outside.
“Maybe he should stand in the front with the rest of us in a row behind him,” Leo jokes.
“Stop,” I say, wrapping an arm around Leo’s shoulder. “Just smile so we can get this over with.”
“The faster the better,” Adam says.
