“I see,” says Zach.
“He just doesn’t like the idea of me moving in with someone who’s not my fiancé.”
“I get that. Hey, will you play me a song?”
I recoil, a little confused. “Right now?”
He nods. “Right now.”
I shrug. “Weird but okay.”
Pulling my guitar out of its case, I notice something rattling around inside of it.
“Did I leave a guitar pick in here?” I say, half to myself and half to Zach.
Shaking my guitar, I can hear it.
“Super weird. You better check that out,” Zach says.
Tipping my guitar over, I rattle it until a little plastic case falls out.
My pulse races as I reach to pick it up.
Zach stops me, grabs it, and kneels in front of me. I cover my mouth as my eyes start to well up.
He flips the little case open and I see a sparkling ring poking out. “Harmony,” he starts, his voice low. “On that night I saw you in The Hungry Burger, I was feeling Like I was just a misfit destined to walk this Earth in vain for the rest of my years. You drew me in with your voice, your song, and your energy. You got me away from the edge that night. I don’t even want to tell you what I was thinking about doing.”
My heart wrenches. “No, Zach. Why would you ever think something like that?”
He continues, “I’m not perfect. But I’ll sure as hell take care of you and love you for the rest of my days, if you let me. Do you want to take this crazy ride with me? Do you want to let me beat up your ex-boyfriends if I have to—hopefully not, though. Harmony, you’ve unlocked the key to my soul, and it’s been only a few months. But I can’t just move in with you and not do this, when being with you forever is all I want. Every time I see you play, it’s all I can think about. I kept reasoning, well, I could do this tomorrow, or next month, or any time, really. But today is better, because we already know that tomorrow never comes. Harmony Lane, will you marry me?”
“Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes!”
Zach smiles desperately, getting off his knee, and hugs me tighter than he ever has before.
“I love you, Harm. Play for me every night.”
I pull back with a smirk. “I love you, too, Zach. Cook for me every night?”
“Maybe,” he winks.
Slipping his hand around to my back pocket, he feels a piece of paper. I squint as he pulls it out, holding it in front of me.
“Wait a sec,” he says. “Is this the note I gave you after our first ride together, that I told you to wait two months to read?”
“Yes! I totally forgot about that.”
Unfolding the piece of paper, he runs his eyes over the writing that’s a little washed out, but he smiles as he hands it to me.
It’s a little scribbly and faded out since I’ve washed these jeans. I flash back to the first ride Zach ever gave me. I’ve since totally forgotten about it.
I read it out loud: “Harm. No matter what happens, we’ll always have this one night. And isn’t that beautiful? P.S. - Please keep this phone number for all of your riding needs. XO, Zach.”
My jaw falls open, remembering the lengths I went to when I’d lost Zach’s number.
All I had to do was check my pants pocket. Silly me.
Biting my lip, I flash a look up at him. “So,” I say, wiggling my eyebrows. “You want to take me for a ride?”
Zach runs his hand through my hair, a slight smile spreading on his face. “What kind of ride are we talking about?”
“My favorite kind of ride.”
“A ride to the ice cream shop? You got it.
“Ass. You know I mean,” I chide, biting my lower lip.
He shrugs, sliding his hand down my back. “I mean, we’ve got time for both. It’s not like we’re in a rush.”
Chapter 32
Zach
That winter, Harmony catches a break.
Well, she catches a break, that is, if you want to define a break as getting your first top-forty song stolen, then working your ass off for years, and then finally getting one tiny bit of luck.
A bigwig agent comes into my restaurant with her assistant, sees Harmony playing the nightly acoustic show, and asks me who she is while I’m visiting their table, schmoozing and telling them about the chef’s special.
“You haven’t heard of Harmony Lane? She’s the biggest name in East Nashville these days.”
The agent furrows her brow, looking closer.
“Holy crap, you’re right. That’s the Harmony Lane. Of that recent viral photo.”
I feel my chest start to burn. Harmony hasn’t mentioned anything about a viral photo. “Excuse me?”
“Is it true that this picture is her?”
My eyes damn near bulge out of my head. It’s a picture of Harmony and me from our photo shoot.
On the bar.
Doing it.
The picture is of her twisting her head to kiss me, her arm curled up and wrapped around my head.
But it’s impossible to confirm for sure who it is, since the top of the photo is cropped at her mouth, and all you can see is the top of my head.
The bottom of the photo damn near reaches her nipple, but it falls just short.
An angry heat rushes through me.
Andrew must have done this.
“I can neither confirm nor deny who that photo is,” I say.
The agent continues, her stern expression changing to a smile. “Well, you tell whoever does Harmony’s PR that this is a damn stroke of genius. I’ve got all of my clients asking me about her and if it’s true.”
“They want to know if that sexy photo is her?” I ask.
“No,” the agent shakes her head. “They want to know if she can really sing as good live as she does in her YouTube and Instagram videos. And if she’s still unsigned.”
I glance over at Harmony. She’s on the stage finishing her set. Our eyes lock, and I wink.
“For my final song,” she says. “I’m going to play a little ditty called ‘The Watcher.’”
Hoots and hollers are heard from the bar as she starts to sing.
The agent shakes her head. “I just don’t understand where she gets the inspiration for her songs. You have any clue?”
Clearing my throat, I shake my head. “No idea.”
Harmony sings, and after she’s done, the place roars with applause.
The agent claps along. “So, who’s Harmony’s agent?”
I shrug. “She’s still selecting one.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so! Jim McConnell just texted me. He’s interested, and I quote, ‘the sexy brunette who leaks photos like that and can sing like an angel.’”
I nod. “Hell yeah, she can.”
After putting down her guitar, Harmony sifts through the crowd and finds me. “Hey, babe.” She kisses me on the cheek and then turns to the agent and her assistant. “How y’all doing tonight?”
Her smile is bubbly, like always. She doesn’t know who this woman is.
“Harmony, my name is Teri Shultz. How’d you like to open up for Jim McConnell on his world tour this spring?”
Harmony’s eyes widen. “Um, what?”