44. Quinn
44
QUINN
ONE YEAR LATER
T he stage lights burn against my skin as I strum the final chord. My heart pounds with the rhythm of thousands of screaming fans. The energy in this arena feels electric, alive - so different from those early days playing in dive bars for tips.
"Thank you Florida!" I adjust the microphone stand, My belt buckle catching the spotlight. "Y'all have been amazing tonight!"
The roar grows louder. Signs wave in the crowd - some with my name, others with lyrics from my latest single. A year ago, I never would have imagined this. Now here I am, opening for Just South of Mason on our worldwide tour, with three platinum records under my belt.
"One more time!" I call out, launching into the chorus of my newest hit. The crowd sings every word back to me.
The final note rings out and I blow kisses to the crowd. "Florida, I love you! I hope you're ready for some Just South of Mason!"
I make my way backstage, my heart still racing from the performance. The crew room buzzes with pre-show energy, but my eyes lock onto the sight that matters most - our tiny daughter cradled in Austen's arms.
"There's my girl." I cross the room, breathing in Macy's sweet baby scent as Austen passes her over. "Were you good for Da?"
"My perfect angel, as usual." Austen runs a hand through his shaggy hair. "Unlike her Daddy over there having a wardrobe crisis."
"It's not a crisis," Jarron tugs at his shirt collar. "The buttons are just being difficult."
"Here." I shift Macy to one arm and fix his collar with practiced ease. "Can't have you looking disheveled for the big debut."
"Here, give me my baby girl. You help the adult baby," Beau reaches out for Macy and I swear there's nothing hotter than a big burly man cradling a tiny infant.
"There's Papa's girl. One day you'll be out there just like Mama." It's bizzare how much our daughter looks like Beau. We've made sure to keep her out of the spotlight, it's only a matter of time before her photos are leaked and there's speculation. Because there's no doubt in my mind that Beau is her biological father. But baby girl lucked out in the father lottery and got four.
I reach for Macy, and Beau reluctantly gives her back.
He adjusts his bass strap, his gentle giant presence filling the room. He places a kiss to my forehead. "You ready for this, darlin'? First time we're playing it live."
"Oh she's ready, so is Mace." Lyle twirls his drumsticks, that familiar excited energy radiating off him. "Ain't that right baby girl, this one's special."
They gather around us, a familiar choreography we've perfected over the year. Jarron kisses me first, then Macy's forehead. "For my girls."
Austen's next, followed by Beau's bear hug that envelops both me and the baby. Lyle sneaks in last, dropping a quick peck on mine and Macy's cheek.
"Padre loves you Mace, and you too Mama."
"Knock 'em dead, boys." I bounce Macy gently as they head for the stage. "We'll be right here."
The opening chords of their new song drift back to us as the crowd roars. I hold Macy close, listening to the love letter they wrote for us, performed for thousands but meant just for two.
I cradle her closer, her tiny fingers curled around my necklace as I watch my men perform from the wings.
"See that, sweet girl? That's your daddies up there." I whisper against her soft hair, swaying gently to the melody.
Nearly two years ago, I was heating up Hot Pockets in a crummy apartment by the train tracks, wondering if I should give up and go home. Now here I stand, platinum records on my wall, sharing my life with four incredible men who love me - and our daughter - more than I ever thought possible.
Austen catches my eye as he steps up to harmonize with Jarron, that familiar mischievous glint making me smile. Beau's steady bass line thrums through the floor while Lyle keeps perfect time, his drumming as reliable as his heart.
"Your momma used to think Christmas miracles were just fairy tales," I tell Macy softly. The emotion wells up in my throat as I watch them perform our love story for thousands. "But sometimes the craziest dreams really do come true."
The crowd erupts as they hit the bridge, their voices blending perfectly. My heart swells with pride and love, watching these men who chose to build something beautiful and unconventional with me. Who fought for us when I tried to run away.
Macy coos, reaching toward the stage lights, and I kiss her forehead. "That's right, baby girl. Dreams come true. Especially at Christmas."