Page 82 of Fa-La La-La Land
“Rhys, you don’t have to do that. If you need to walk away from your contract, do it. Get out of this toxic relationship with Danny.”
He pulls away long enough to look at me, then presses his forehead to mine. “You made this happen, Stella. All of it. You believed in my songs. You helped me believe in myself. I’m not going anywhere without you getting everything you’ve dreamed of too. That’s the only encore I want.”
I rake my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and kiss him once. “Okay, as long as we’re only talking dreams, not fantasies. I’m done with those. I only want the real thing.”
Outside, the wind settles, and the storm finally gives way to stillness. The world feels like it’s holding its breath while we find ours.
Then I kiss the real Rhys James again.
And again.
And again…
The End!
Sort of. Don’t skip the Epilogue…
unless you hate happy endings.
Epilogue
This Christmas Eve is different. Not only because I’m spending this morning at a dress rehearsal in LA instead of prepping food and gifts in Paradise, but also because I’ll be spending the night celebrating with Rhys and my other celebrity clients after Winter Lights Live. Technically, this Christmas Eve is about work, even though I’ll be with the man I love and his parents.
I’m not sad about it, even though I really miss my family. I wanted this career—this life—and I love it. But I also love Christmas in Paradise.
Rhys catches my eye from center stage as he straps on his guitar to practice “Fa-La La-La Land”—his version. His smile chases away a bit of the homesickness loitering at the edge of my heart. There’s no way to banish the feeling for good. I wouldn’t want to if there were. The only way not to be homesick is to love Paradise and the people there less. That’s not possible.
One thing tugs especially hard at my heart: What I’m going to miss the most tonight is not getting a letter from Dad thisyear. I don’t regret asking Santa for what I did instead of a letter, but change is hard. I know Dad didn’t write all those letters, yet they’ve made me feel like I know him and that he knows and loves me.
It’s weird to be sad about what I’m letting go at the same time I’m happy that I got what I wanted, which is the same thing Rhys wanted: to find songs that make him and his fans happy. And obviously, I didn’tliterallyhave to trade letters from Dad for the outcome that we got. The symbolism is what counts. In a sense, I’ve had to leave behind the safety and comfort of Paradise to be who I’m meant to be and do what I’m meant to do.
Rhys starts in on the first notes of “Fa-La” with an easiness in his body that was missing the first time I met him. People love his new songs, but after the post about him rescuing people in Paradise, peoplelovehim, too.
His contract with VibeHouse still has a couple more years on it, but the success of “December Dreams” and Rhys’s version of “Fa-La La-La Land” has opened Danny’s eyes to two things:
One: Rhys doesn’t need him—or VibeHouse—to release music and have it find success.
Two: Rhys is not anyone’s puppet. If Danny wants to keep Rhys as a client, he has to treat him as a partner. Not someone to order around.
These are good things. And as I watch from backstage while Rhys rehearses the songs one more time before Winter Lights Live, I’m so happy for him. For us.
And yet, there’s a part of me that will always be the girl from Paradise. I never want to forget that.
I stand just within Rhys’s line of sight. He sees me during the first few notes of “December Dreams” and smiles, reminding me that the song is still mine, even if I’m sharing itwith millions now.
The peace he feels while performing is clear in the way the notes and words come out of him with none of the tension that used to be there. I didn’t notice the dissonance the first time he played it for me. But when I go back and listen to the version he recorded in his home studio, I can hear the tug of more going on. Of wanting this to be the music he’s known for while fearing the rejection from people he thought once loved him.
The clashing notes in that version. The trembling in his voice. It was subtle. Just enough tension for listeners to hear what bittersweet means—the choice between two good things. The ache to let go of the old love in order to embrace the new. The kind that helps you grow. The kind that dares you to embrace change, no matter how much it scares you.
When Rhys finishes the song, he comes offstage quickly so the crew can turn over the set for the next performer. Rhys is a mid-liner—one of VibeHouse’s top ten stars. Danny wishes now he had pushed for Rhys to headline. But Rhys is grateful not to have that kind of pressure.
“Ready for tonight, La-La?” he asks when he folds me in his arms.
He’s hot and sticky from being under the lights, but he still smells good. Not a wood-fired mountain man—which is my favorite—but strong and confident, like the ocean at high tide.
“Honestly? I’m nervous.” I wrap my arm around his waist as we walk through the venue’s halls to his dressing room.
“You? Nervous? Didn’t think that was possible.” He flexes his arm draped around my neck to let me know he’s teasing. “It’s just networking and schmoozing now. You don’t have to win anyone over. They’ve already seen what you’ve done for my career. They know you’ll do the same for theirs.”
