Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
When he’d called her out of the blue asking for help with merch at Marie’s, she’d jumped at the chance.
Not just because she loved doing booth work, but because she needed to see the miracle for herself.
That Vic Montrose had finally found his place in the world.
She’d watched him bounce from band to band for years, clearly talented, always giving everything, but never quite landing where he belonged.
Hearing the quiet contentment in his voice when he talked about OY had made her heart swell.
She was so damn proud of him.
A familiar voice cut through the growing noise of load-in.
“Sheri!”
She turned just in time to be swept up in strong arms. Vic hugged her tight, lifting her slightly off the ground the way he always did when he was genuinely happy to see someone. She laughed and hugged him back just as fiercely.
“Look at you,” she said when he set her down, holding him at arm’s length. “You look good, Montrose. Really good.”
Vic gave her that boyish grin she remembered so well. “Couldn’t have done it without you showing up tonight. Seriously. Thank you.”
Before she could respond, he reached behind him and gently pulled forwards the woman who had been standing a few steps back, watching them with a soft, curious smile.
“Sheri, this is Bonnie Dupont. My fiancée.”
The word hit Sheri like a warm wave, and she smiled. Fiancée.
Bonnie stepped forward, extending her hand. “It’s really nice to meet you. Vic’s told me a lot about you.”
Sheri took her hand and felt the familiar roughness of musician’s calluses—guitar strings, long hours, real work. She liked her immediately. She used that grip to pull Bonnie into a tight embrace.
“Oh, girl, it’s nice to meet you too,” Sheri said warmly. “I’ve heard nothing but good things. And congratulations. You two look really happy together.”
Bonnie’s smile deepened, and she leaned slightly into Vic’s side. “We are.”
Sheri watched the way Vic looked at her, steady, adoring, completely at peace, and felt something settle in her chest.
This was it.
This was what she’d been hoping to see for years. Vic wasn’t chasing anymore. He wasn’t drifting.
He was home.
She gave them both a genuine smile, the kind that came from deep relief and real joy.
“You did it, Vic,” she said softly. “You finally found your place.”
Vic’s eyes shone as he looked at Bonnie, then back at Sheri. “Yeah. I think I did.”
Sheri turned back to the merch table with a lighter heart, rearranging a stack of tees that didn’t need rearranging. Mitty was all the way across the room, but she pushed that small disappointment aside.
Tonight wasn’t about her.
Tonight was about watching someone she cared about finally get it right.
And that was more than enough.
***
Mitty
Mitty stood by the stage, pretty far from the merch booth, as he pretended to check inventory on his clipboard while his eyes kept drifting back to the interaction unfolding in front of him.
Vic had just walked up, and the moment Sheri saw him, her whole face lit up. She pulled him into a tight, familiar hug, the kind that spoke of years of history. Mitty felt an odd little twist in his gut, but then Vic turned and gently drew Bonnie forward.
Sheri didn’t hesitate. She wrapped Bonnie in a hug that was nearly as warm and enthusiastic as the one she’d given Vic. Bonnie laughed, surprised but clearly pleased, and the two women fell into easy conversation like they’d known each other for years.
Mitty’s chest did something complicated.
He waited until Vic started walking toward the stage area, then stepped forwards and caught the drummer’s arm.
“Hey, man,” Mitty said, trying to sound casual. “Merch lady...Sheri. Does she seem comfortable? Everything all right?”
Vic glanced back at Sheri, who was already organizing a new stack of hoodies with practiced efficiency. A fond smile crossed his face.
“That’s just Sheri,” he said. “I’ve known her most of a decade. She’ll do a good job, promise.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about that,” Mitty replied quickly. “It looks like she knows her way around a merch table better than I do.” He could feel heat rising in his cheeks. Damn it. He was blushing like a teenager. “Does she...uh...have a better half running around here somewhere?”
Vic turned fully toward him, eyebrows lifting. Then a wide, knowing grin spread across his face. He actually bowed a little, like some old-fashioned gentleman.
“No, kind sir,” Vic said, voice dripping with amusement. “She has no champion at this time.”
Mitty’s face burned hotter. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly very interested in the floor.
“Okay. Good,” he managed. “Good.”
Vic clapped him on the shoulder, still grinning like an idiot. “She’s single, Mitty. And she’s great. You should talk to her. For real.”
Mitty nodded, words failing him. He watched as Vic walked away, still chuckling to himself.
Sheri looked up from the table and caught his eye across the booth. She gave him a small, curious smile, the kind that made his stomach do a slow flip.
Mitty swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and walked over.
He had no idea what he was going to say. But he was sure he could find some words. Hopefully they’d be the right ones.
***
Sheri
The house lights were already down and the crowd noise was just starting to build when Mitty appeared at the side of the merch booth.
Sheri looked up from the stack of tank tops she was folding and felt a little flutter in her chest. He’d changed into a clean black OY crew shirt that fit him well—maybe a little too well.
He hesitated for half a second at the edge of the table, then stepped in and picked up a folded tank top, matching her movements without being asked.
“Hey,” he said, voice a touch rough. “Mind if I help?”
Sheri smiled, warm and easy, refusing to let the earlier awkwardness linger. “Please. These things multiply when I’m not looking.”
Mitty nodded, focusing a little too hard on folding the next shirt. His fingers fumbled the logo alignment once, twice. He cleared his throat.
“So...uh...thanks again for coming out on short notice. I know it was last-minute and all.”
Sheri met him in the middle, keeping her tone light and friendly like they had been before he’d pulled back earlier.
“I was happy Vic called,” she said honestly. “And I’m really glad I came. You guys sounded incredible during sound check. The new songs are killer.”
Mitty’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. A small, genuine smile broke through. “Yeah? Thanks. We’ve been working hard on them. Tonight should be a good one. I promise you’ll get a hell of a show.”
“I’m counting on it,” Sheri replied, folding another tank top and setting it neatly in the display. She glanced sideways at him again. He really was handsome. He had warm brown eyes, an easy smile when he let it out, and that quiet competence that came through in everything he did.
She’d spent the last couple of hours watching him run around, making sure everything was perfect for the band. He cared. Deeply. And something about that quiet steadiness pulled at her more than she expected.
Now or never, she thought.
Sheri set down the shirt she was holding and turned to face him fully.
“Mitty...after teardown tonight, would you want to grab something to eat with me? Nothing fancy. Just food. Maybe talk without boxes between us.”
The words were barely out of her mouth when Mitty answered.
“Yes.”
He said it so fast she nearly laughed. His cheeks flushed bright red, but he didn’t look away.
“Yes,” he repeated, softer this time, but no less eager. “I’d genuinely like that.”