Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
By late morning, the barn smelled like sawdust and promise.
Sunlight cut through the old windows in strips, falling over the cleared corner where Carlene’s office would live.
Quinn Kurtz stood with his tool belt slung low on his hips, blueprints rolled under one arm, and that same focused calm he’d always carried.
“Man, this place has good bones,” Quinn said, running a hand over the worn beam that split the loft. “You did right keeping it raw. You planning a full studio expansion or just giving it more polish?”
“A little of both,” Jami said. “We want to build a second control room behind the live space, a glass wall, soundproofing, the works, but keep the barn’s character. Carlene’s office will be up here.”
Carlene came up the stairs, pad in hand, hair caught back, sleeves rolled to her elbows. “Hey, Quinn. You ready to work your magic? I've been so excited about this.”
Jami chuckled. "She's been waking up for the past few weeks, talking about her excitement."
Quinn grinned. “All of the supplies have been delivered, and we're ready to start. It'll be loud the next couple of weeks.”
“It's alright. We're headed out of town on a short tour. Do what you need to do.” Jami said.
Carlene smiled. "But before I leave you to it, can we go over everything one more time?"
Quinn laughed. “Okay, deal. Let’s start with the loft. I believe you said, desk here, shelves on this wall, and you said bathroom above the downstairs one.”
“Right,” Jami said, stepping closer to the window. “We’ll need plumbing brought up and maybe some noise insulation. She’s planning to work through rehearsals, and the last thing she needs is Axel’s kick drum shaking the floor.”
“Appreciated,” Carlene said. “I like to think the world revolves around me when I’m on a call.”
Quinn pulled a pencil from behind his ear and made quick notes. “I’ll bring a crew tomorrow to rough in plumbing and wire outlets. Want the same reclaimed wood for your desk?”
Jami looked to her. “You decide.”
She studied the boards under her feet, then the color of the old beams. “Use something from here. Something that’s already lived a little.”
“Got it,” Quinn wrote everything down, then drew it out on his pad. Looking up at Jami, Quinn grinned. “You ready to go over the recording studio?”
“Yeah,” Jami said. They moved downstairs and to the back of the existing studio. “Glass panel right here.” He tapped the wall where he’d measured several times. “We’ll run wiring along the base and anchor another soundboard. Tony’s handling the equipment list.”
“Understood.” Quinn rolled up the plans. “I'm estimating two and a half weeks for all of this. You'll be available for questions while on tour?”
“Yes,” Carlene said. “And Quinn? The upstairs bathroom, doesn’t need to be fancy. Just functional and quiet.”
He tipped his cap. “You got it, boss.”
When he left, the barn fell into the kind of silence Jami liked best, the kind that hummed with what could happen next.
Carlene moved to the end of the bar near the window, hands on the bar, eyes tracing the sun on the floorboards. “He’s good. I'm terribly excited.”
“He is.” Jami leaned against the beam beside her. “So are you.”
She smiled without turning. “You're saying that because I just negotiated a record label into surrender, made a plan to remodel your barn, and helped to plan a tour.”
“I’m saying it because you built something out of wreckage. Most people can’t do that and still look like this.”
Her laugh was soft. “Like what?”
“Like hope.”
She looked up then, eyes searching his face. “That’s a dangerous word for a man who’s lived this life.”
“Not anymore.”
He reached for her hand. She let him take it, fingers weaving naturally into his. For a moment, the barn, the papers, the plans, all of it disappeared into the quiet between them.
“You know,” he said, voice low, “I’ve been thinking about what comes next.”
“New album, new tour, new record label,” she said. “Plenty to think about.”
“That’s not what I mean.” He reached into his pocket, and for once, his hands didn’t shake from adrenaline or nerves. He’d done a thousand shows, played to packed stadiums, but this, this was the one stage that mattered.
Her breath caught when she saw the small velvet box. “Jami...”
“Just listen,” he said. “I don’t want to wait for perfect timing. I don’t want to plan a grand gesture with fireworks or headlines. We’ve had enough of both. I want this here, where it started to make sense again.”
He opened the box. The ring was a simple white-gold band, with one diamond cut sharp and bright, catching the light from the loft window.
“When I wrote “Keys”, it was about finding a door worth opening,” he said.
“And when I wrote “More Than a Feeling”, it was about realizing you were on the other side of it. You are the fight, the calm, the reason I still believe this life can be real. So, Carlene Matthews, I love you with my whole heart. Will you marry me?”
She blinked fast, the kind of tears that came from shock and certainty colliding. “You’re serious.”
“As the chords I play wrong and the ones I get right.”
Her lips curved, trembling and sure at once. “I didn’t think you were the kind of man who’d let anyone slow you down.”
He grinned. “You didn’t slow me down. You gave me direction.”
She let out a small laugh that cracked right through her composure. “Then yes,” she said. “Yes, Jami, I’ll marry you. And for the record, I love you with my whole heart.”
He exhaled, relief and joy colliding in one laugh that shook his shoulders. Sliding the ring onto her finger, he kissed her knuckles and rested his forehead against hers. “Good. Because I already told Tony.”
Her eyes widened. “You what?”
“He said, ‘About time.’”
She laughed through a half-sob and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re stuck with me.”
He kissed her lips, softly. Then, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. They didn’t need music because they already had rhythm.
The barn door creaked open. Tony’s voice broke the silence. “Hey, lovebirds, Quinn forgot his drawings.”
Carlene pressed her forehead to Jami’s chest and groaned. “Timing.”
Jami laughed, still holding her. “Yes. We seem to live from one interruption to the next."
She looked up at him. “No headlines.”
“No headlines,” he promised. “Just heartlines.”
Tony’s footsteps grew louder. “Everything good?”
Jami called back, “Better than good.”
Carlene leaned in, kissed him once, and whispered, “Looks like we just found our encore.”
He smiled into her hair. “Yeah,” he whispered. “And this time, we’re playing it our way.”