Page 99 of Sing it, Sam

“Thanks, Bob,” I reply.

“I don’t know if y’all know this,” Sam says, swagger in his tone, “but today’s my last day here. Never thought I’d say it, but I’ll kinda be sad to go.”

A couple of the ladies at the back let out a few oohs and ahhs.Man, is he a crowd pleaser.

“Before I do, I want you all to know how lucky you are to have a very special woman who works here. Some of you may know her as Wonder Woman. I like to think of her as the girl with the cherry lips who brought me back into the light. Come up here, Janie,” he says, and crooks his finger at me.

“Go get him,” Frederick says.

I stand and take slow steps to the front. Too embarrassed to look around the room and meet the stares, I focus purely on Sam. I’m not used to being the centre of attention.

Sam holds out his free hand. I take it and weave my fingers between his.

“I’m just gonna sing one more song, everyone, and then Shaun is gonna treat you with some real old school tunes, but first …” Sam tugs at my arm, pulling me onto his lap. He plants his lips on mine. Our kiss sinks into a rhythm, and then I remember where I am, and that a bunch of oldies are watching us make out.How is it that he can so easily steal my inhibitions and have me block out where I am?

“Slip her some tongue,” a male voice calls out.

Breaking my lips from Sam’s, I swing around and see a red-faced Frederick in the front row. I roll my eyes at him and laugh.

“This one’s for you, Janie,” Sam says as I stand up.

A hand grips my elbow. Paige beams at me, and places a chair right in front of Sam. She motions for me to sit.

Oh my God. This isn’t happening. Sam is going to serenade me? Here?

“Janie,” he says and sighs. “There’s a song by a legend of our time who could have very well written this song about you and me. This is ‘Thinking Out Loud’ by the ginger Jesus, Mr Ed Sheeran.”

Shaun plucks at the guitar. Sam sways from side to side, patting on his left knee with his free hand.

I do a terrible job of holding back tears as Sam sings about legs not working like they used to, and falling in love, and not being able to play his guitar the same way.

Tears barrel down my cheeks. I brush them away as Sam croons about finding love right where we are. When the song comes to an end, applause erupts. I lose it and sob into my hands, which cover my mouth.

“Handing you over to Shaun now,” Sam says in a thick voice, and hands the mic to the guitar player.

When Sam rises to his feet, I sweep my arms around his waist and hold on tight.

“If I was any prouder of you, I’d burst,” I tell Sam.

“You got me here, babe,” he says.

Softly, I press my lips to his. “Love you, so much,” I mumble.

“Get a room,” a woman calls out and laughs.

Sam’s leg buckles. I strengthen my hold around him. He stabilises.

“Let’s get out of here,” Sam whispers in my ear. “I’m ready for an audience of one.”

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