That’s what hope is. And hope might just be one of the most beautiful of emotions there is.
Tonight’s song is my biggest single from the new album. An emotional sucker-punch. A ballad. I cried my eyes out when I wrote it and I’m hoping I don’t do that tonight when I sing it live.
I nod my head in thanks to the crowd and as they begin to settle and sit back down, I pick up my gold microphone. Perching myself on the edge of the stool that’s waiting for me center stage, I glance over to Casper who is holding his acoustic, ready. Our eyes meet and I nod. He launches into the song, playing the complex musical arrangement he and I wrote together for this.
I open my mouth and start to sing, my eyes closing as the notes flow past my vocal cords, and slide through my lips. And just like that, all those butterflies that had been swarming low in my belly are replaced with a swell of endorphins that glide up through my veins, settling in my cells and pulling me up and off the stool.
Opening my eyes, I allow every shred of heartache to pour out of me. I bleed myself, right here, for all to witness. The heady power rises up from my toes, surging until it’s pulling a reluctant smile from my lips and the most perfect notes from my lungs.
I hit the bridge and turn to face Casper who is smiling too because wow, I’ve never sung it like this before. His eyes meet mine and in them, I see so much pride. So much love.
I went from being alone, lost, to found.
To surrounded with family and love.
Turning back to the audience, I search for Gus. It’s nearly impossible to see into the audience with the bright lights harshly shining in my eyes. I find our seats and quickly squint, trying to adjust into darkness without being too obvious about it to the audience here and people watching at home.
Unfortunately, it’s too difficult to make out, so I smile in the direction of our seats anyway, hoping he knows that smile is only for him.
The song begins to build, pushing toward the climax and the end of the song. These last few verses, Gus and I wrote together, and I let it all out when suddenly ever so subtly the crowd stirs. At first, I ignore the murmurings, but it grows more persistent and I turn, glancing over my shoulder in Casper’s direction without missing a note.
Casper is still sitting there playing, but his expression has completely changed into one of bewildered humor.
Because Gus Diamond is now on stage.
And he’s holding a microphone.
Smiling at me with so much love and devotion, my chest clenches.
My eyes widen and I shake my head incredulously. What on earth is this man doing?
Gus walks over to me with long, purposeful strides, lifting the microphone to his lips as he goes. I continue to sing and the moment he reaches me, we face each other, and he begins to sing the final chorus with me. I can’t stop my smile as it spreads across my face. I step closer, shifting so our bodies are less than a foot apart as I now sing to him and no one else.
The crowd, restless and cheering in their seats, fades to black.
All I see is Gus, his sandy-brown hair, his piercing gray eyes, his tall, muscular body.
He reaches out with the hand not holding the microphone and takes mine, intertwining our fingers and lifting it up to his chest, holding us there over his heart.
We sing the final line as one, and when we’re done, the crowd erupts in thunderous applause. I laugh, shaking my head. I lower my microphone. “Song crasher,” I accuse, and everyone laughs because obviously they still all heard that.
Gus chuckles softly before his expression turns serious. He pulls me in a little closer, angling his body so he’s only looking at me. “Beautiful girl, I’m a go big or go home sort of guy.”
Ain’t that the truth.
“Naomi Kent, ladies and gentlemen,” Gus belts out, taking our joined hands and raising it over our heads as he steps behind me, giving me center stage once more. More applause, and now my face likely resembles a firecracker.
He winks at the audience and then tugs me along, back off the stage without waiting on the escorts or the lights to dim or any of that ceremonial nonsense.
He drags me along, past the stagehands and lingering celebrities, all the way to the back where it’s quiet and dark.
That’s when he turns to face me. Our hands still intertwined. Our chests pressed close. Our exaggerated breathing one. Tonight has been one of the best nights of my life. And Gus just made it so much better singing on stage with me.
“Normally I’m not the type of man to pull a Kayne and steal someone else’s thunder,” he starts, his voice a low hum as he speaks, practically into my lips. “At least not without good reason. I wasn’t going to do this tonight let alone here, but seeing you up on stage, singing and performing again,” He shakes his head like he’s trying to hold back his emotions, “I cannot tell you how proud I am of you. You amaze me and I couldn’t think of any other way to express just how incredible and precious you are to me. Just how much I love you, Naomi. Other than doing this.”
He lowers himself onto one knee, here, in the backstage of the fucking Grammys.
My eyes bug out of my head and my breath catches.
“Here?” I gasp and he chuckles.
“Yeah, baby. Here is just right.” Gus pulls out a diamond ring from his pocket, takes my hand, and stares up into my eyes with so much devotion and love, tears begin to collect in my eyes, falling gently onto my cheeks. “Naomi Kent, will you make me the happiest man in the world and be my wife?”
Simple. Heartfelt. Perfect.
“Yes,” I cry or scream or laugh. I can’t even tell what that sound is coming from my mouth.
Gus grins like a schoolboy, slips the ring onto my finger and then stands up, scooping me up into his arms as he goes. My arms wrap around his neck as his lips meet mine in a kiss that renders me breathless.
“I love you,” I whisper into him.
“I love you more.”
“I love you most.”
He smiles into me. “Not possible.”
He kisses me again, softer this time, before he sets me down. I drag him back down to me, kissing him once more, unwilling to let him go. God. This man. This moment. How did I survive for so long without him? Love is like that, isn’t it? Brutal tragedy one moment and perfect elation the next.
He took this night, this place, the bad memories, and turned them all into something so magical. Something we’ll be able to tell our grandkids about.
“This is the best night of my life. I can’t imagine anything topping this.”
“That’s a dare I fully accept.”
Epilogue 2
Gus
Two Years Later
* * *
There are so many ways this could have gone. So many sides to the same story that could have been told. At the end of the day, love won out. As it always should. Mistrust and uncertainty and miscommunication drag us down so many ugly paths. We do it compliantly. Our lack of faith in others and confidence in ourselves is that driving force.
How can anyone love us when we’re not perfect?
What if they see all the flaws I see in myself?
Sexy? Not really. True? You bet.
But does that make the way we love someone any less real or true? Aren’t our flaws what bind us to another? Isn’t true love only visible when our flaws and scars are there to be seen?