45. April
Chapter 45
April
G emma, Anna, Mason, and I arrive at the stadium together, weaving through the crowd towards the VIP entrance.
“Mason, I’m so glad you’re tagging along!” Gemma says.
He chuckles. “I know, it’s nice to spend some time with my wife,” he says, flinging his arm around Anna and pulling her in.
“What are you crapping on about?” Anna retorts.
“I feel like I hardly see you on weekends, my love.”
“Bollocks,” she says, teasingly.
“I don’t think so, you’re always busy having a sleepover with this lot,” he says, flashing us a playful smile.
I shoot him a smirk.
“I’m thirty-one, Mason. I’m not dead. Just because we’re married doesn’t mean I lose my independence.”
Gemma turns to me, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Uh oh, I think we’re in the middle of a lovers’ tiff.” I laugh along with her.
“No, no,” Mason says, planting a kiss on Anna’s head as we approach the door, “I could never be mad at this one.” He squeezes her shoulder, and she pinches his waist.
“Oh, by the way, Gemma,” Anna says, turning to her, “Max is going to be leading some big, flashy marketing campaign that your agency’s been hired for.”
Max is Anna’s older brother. He’s forty and has been working in some impressive leadership role in New York for the last ten years. I’ve hardly seen him, he’s so busy. He used to give us real grief when we were growing up, but he’s a lot of fun.
“Oh? It’ll be nice to finally meet him,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows, “I’ve rather enjoyed the photos you’ve posted with him.”
Anna stops dead in her tracks and points an accusatory finger at her, “Don’t you fucking dare even think about shagging my brother.”
“Me?” Gemma says, fluttering her lashes as she holds a hand over her chest, “why, I would never!”
“Fuck sake,” Anna says, storming off to join the line.
I spot Caroline and Peter up ahead.
“Caroline!” I shout, and she spins around. Before I know it, she sweeps me into her arms, pulling me into a bruising hug. I let out a relieved breath. It feels so wonderful to see her again. She squeezes a little too tight, as she always does, and I smile.
“Oh, honey,” she says, her eyes watery. She cradles my face in her small hands. “It’s so good to see you.” The comforting, familiar scent of her floral perfume invades my senses, and pressure builds behind my eyes. Her arms feel like home.
We pull apart and my gaze shifts to Peter, standing awkwardly beside Caroline watching the whole exchange. My expression softens as I lock eyes with him. “Hi, Peter,” I say, my voice small.
He rolls his eyes. “Come here, love,” he says, and I step into his embrace.
Caroline and Peter greet the rest of the gang as we wait in line.
She gives my shoulders a gentle shake. “Are you ready for this?”
I nod enthusiastically, barely able to speak. I am so pumped for James, and so proud of him. Caroline’s eyes light with what I know is the same thrill I’m feeling. I turn to glance back at the others to find them also grinning.
I can already tell tonight will be unforgettable.
“Do you think they’ll let you backstage?” Gemma shouts in my ear over the waves of screams and cheers around us.
“I don’t know. Should I give it a shot?” I yell back, cupping my hands around my mouth to be heard.
She shrugs. “I don’t see why not!”
Good point.
“I’ll message you if I run into any issues,” I say before I start moving. Caroline and Peter watch with curiosity as I thread through the row, and Gemma fills them in on my plan. When I look back, I catch Caroline’s gaze. She gives me a very enthusiastic thumbs-up.
Unsure of where to go, I start walking through the stadium hallways until I spot a small woman with a clipboard, shouting into a headpiece.
Bloody hell. I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of her wrath.
Squaring my shoulders, I approach her. “Excuse me, my boyfriend is playing tonight, and I was wondering if there’s any chance I could get backstage to see him?”
If this doesn’t work, I’ll be devastated. The crowd erupts in another wave of whoops and cheers as the current band finishes up.
She scoffs, giving me a once-over. “Alright, love. Sure, he is,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“No, I’m serious,” I insist. “He’s with Atlas Veil. He’s the bassist—James. My name’s April,” I say as I lift the VIP lanyard.
I shift on my feet, anxiety building in my chest. I can’t miss him playing.
Her expression shifts, a flicker of recognition flashing in her eyes. She presses a hand to her headset, speaking into it—probably with security. After a moment, she gives a sharp nod, then looks back at me.
“He’s on next. Follow me. Quickly,” she says, gliding through the hallways far more gracefully than I’d expect on those ten-centimetre stilettos. We wind through the maze of hallways before reaching a set of black metal stairs. I follow her up until, finally, we reach the landing.
Sound equipment is everywhere. Massive speakers and lights hang from the ceiling, and webs of cables snake along the floor and walls. Racks of controls with blinking lights line the walls, humming with activity. There are about ten stagehands stationed around the area, all dressed in black and wearing headsets. They move with efficiency, pressing buttons, speaking into their mics, and adjusting settings as they keep the chaos under control.
The woman walks me to the wings, stopping just short of the stage entrance. She spins on her heel. “He’ll be out any second now. Just stay here, and you’ll see him as soon as he comes off.”
“Thank you,” I tell her, giving her an appreciative look. She nods before sauntering off down the stairs, heels clicking as she yells aggressively into her headpiece.
I focus my gaze on the stage, and my heart leaps into my throat as I watch James. My brows pinch in confusion as he strides over to the microphone, exchanging a quick word with Tom. Then, to my surprise, Tom steps back, handing the mic over to James.
What’s he doing?
The audience is eerily quiet as the guys get into position.
Finally, Oliver counts the band in, and they start to play. James’s voice booms through the microphone, filling the enormous space with a husky, powerful tone that takes my breath away.
My jaw drops.
What. The. Fuck.
I had no idea he could sing like this.
I watch in wonderment.
His fingers work deftly over the neck of his guitar, coaxing each note as he pours his heart out to the audience. I’m completely captivated, unable to look away. It might be night, but the sun rises inside me.
Tears fall, gathering at the corners of my lips as I catch them in a smile. He sings about stolen glances, longing, and waiting. He sings about hope, forgiveness, and new beginnings.
And just when he reaches the final verse, he sings about finding love in unexpected places, and that’s when it hits me.
My stomach bottoms out and I float away.
He’s singing about me. About us.