Chapter 50
Levi
“Where the heck is Gabriella?” I’m irritated, admittedly, and I probably should be speaking more softly, but that woman is so infuriating.
I did her set, and honestly, we killed it.
If Tim and Nelly were here, they would agree, but they’re not.
..and guess who else isn’t? Gabriella. I’ve been pacing in a very small circle next to the curtain, Jan having a front-row seat to my freak-out.
“She’ll be here. Just relax. And if you have to do the song by yourself, that’s fine too.” Her shoulders rise and fall as if to say no big deal.
My feet stop. “What do you mean, ‘that’s fine too’?” Gabriella’s ominous words come crawling back to my mind. “I did something...” Crud, she’s not coming.
“It’s time,” Ryan says, walking past me onto the stage, all shine and sparkle. I quickly strategize. I can’t sing a whole duet by myself, can I? Is that weird?
The music starts, Ryan walks off, and I say a quick prayer before my boots hit the stage.
The crowd stands, screaming when I step into the light.
I’m almost taken aback. Sure, they like me, but this is more.
Tim and Callie are standing with the crowd and my mom’s crying.
That’s when I notice Tate is still gone.
I can feel my chest tightening the longer I stare at her empty chair.
But Tate or no Tate, I have to push through.
Just then, phantom fingers run along the bridge of my shoulder, and I turn towards the touch at whiplash-speed, seeing none other than Tate herself.
A red-lipped Tate. In true Danny Zuko fashion, my jaw hits the floor as she winks, pulling a stage cigarette from her mouth.
She struts slowly towards the other end of the stage, head turned to look back at me. Hot. Tate is hot. My girl.
The instrumentals start as I follow her—like the dog I am—the lyrics rolling off my tongue as if I wrote them. The whole song, we cat-and-mouse every line. Every word a promise.
“The one I want...the one I need.”
The song’s drums come to a stop and the crowd is out of their seats, rushing the stage, cheering.
Security barks commands to exit the stage through our earpieces, but it’s not happening.
I’m not ever leaving this girl again. I shoot her a lopsided smile and she breaks, running full force into my arms. My mind flickers to all of the movies that end this way, but nothing touches this moment, because in a world where everything is orchestrated, we’ve always been real. ..well, you know what I mean.
Levi
“So, Levi, it’s been six months since the end of American Icon. How do you feel?” Tina asks, wasting no time jumping right to it.
I told her in one of my last sessions that if she ever gets tired of putting people’s lives back together, she would make an excellent reporter with her ability to read people and knowing what questions to ask.
She laughed politely before reminding me that she doesn’t put people’s lives together, rather, she gives them the tools to do it themselves.
..and don’t I know it. I can’t believe how long I put my body through the ringer!
I’m happy to report that I haven’t had a panic attack since before the show ended, and that has nothing to do with me getting the girl, but it definitely didn’t hurt.
“I feel great. Grateful, for that matter.”
No, I didn’t win. The votes were counted, and Gabriella was the clear winner of the night, and I didn’t even need Tina’s help to admit that.
Gabriella is as high maintenance as she is talented, and the only one unbothered by Jan’s constant meddling.
Confetti exploded overhead as they announced Gabriella as this year’s American Icon, and I remember the way she looked at me, like she didn’t know how I would take the news.
But that’s the thing, I felt like I already won that night. Hello, did you see Tate?
I wrapped my arms around Gabriella and told her how proud I was of her. That I knew she was going to do great things...and she has! She’s about a month away from releasing her first album, soon to be followed by a massive multiple-country tour.
There’s a muffling sound against the phone and I hope I didn’t lose her. Finally, Tina comes back on the line, loud and clear. “Grateful is good! And how did your meeting with Mercury Records go?”
“Really well. They signed me. When I get back next week, they’re going to set me up with a couple different songwriters that they feel will help me develop my sound.
” What I don’t say is how secondary it feels.
How through therapy and this whole experience on the show, I realized how trivial success really is— or at least how I came to define it.
My greatest success this year isn’t overcoming panic attacks, getting the record deal, or even Tate.
It’s that I’m back in church. Through many sessions with Tina, I realized that I was, in her words, “associating my feelings and hurt from my dad with God.” Crazy, right?
But I’ve never felt better. It’s like I have been living on half-breaths this entire time.
The prodigal son is home and he’s never leaving again!
“Levi, that’s amazing! I am so happy for you. What did Tate say?”
“She’s happy for me, of course.” Tate’s tour with Lasting Crowns ended last week and we’ve been doing all the things. Two days ago, I took Tate on her very first river float down the Harpeth. Three hours of her, me, and Tennessee.
“I’ll bet! Well, I know you’re on your way to the mountains this weekend, so I won’t keep you, but I wanted to ask how you would feel about inviting your dad to an in-person session...”
“Um, uhh...” I take a bend in the road too sharply, having to overcorrect.
I let out a breath, all of a sudden shaken.
“Honestly, I don’t know if I’m ready yet.
Everything is going right for once and I just don’t want him to put a damper on it.
” I know she’s going to give me pushback.
Probably say something about how there is peace in forgiveness and how it’s important on my road to recovery.
“Fair!” she responds, surprising me. “I’ll let you go. Enjoy the wedding and I’ll see you when you get back.”
“Thanks, Tina. For everything.” We end the call just as I take a left onto the private drive of the wedding venue, a forty-acre plantation estate straight out of a country boy’s dream.
Rolling hills covered with mature trees, a lake, and a couple guesthouses speckle the property.
My truck rolls to a stop in the front of the three-story manor where a guy in a monkey suit waits.
“Hello, sir, what’s your reservation under?”
“Johnson, Levi Johnson. I think I’m supposed to be in Cabin 2?”
“Okay, so what you’re going to do is take this road down, past the barn, where you’ll see our guest quarters. Yours will be the second from the bottom. If you have any trouble, circle back.” He smiles before stepping back from my truck.
I roll out from the main house, heading down the road, past the barn. True to his word, cabins appear on the left and right. Beside mine is Tate’s car. She came in a couple days early to help Callie with...whatever wedding stuff you do before the actual wedding.
The night before she left, her excitement for her sister was unmatched.
How happy she was that they had found each other.
I mostly just nodded. Then, in true Tate form, she said, “Do you think you’ll ever get married?
” I remember stopping mid-chew, feeling like the whole restaurant was waiting on my answer.
“Yeah, I think one day.” I looked up at her over the bread basket. “What about you? Do you want to get married?” I asked just as our waitress walked up. She looked at me and then at Tate, face swollen in excitement.
“Oh, Mylanta! Levi Johnson and Tate McGregor getting engaged in my restaurant! Tate, you have to say yes!”
It took me a second to catch up, but when I did I leaned forward towards the waitress, saying, “Oh, no, I think you’re mis...”
“YES! Yes, I would love to marry you!”
I was so surprised and confused. I looked back at Tate, fear rising in my chest. She didn’t? I didn’t? What was happening? That’s when I caught the tiniest of winks from her. My mouth split into a grin.
“You will?” I asked, and she nodded frantically, coming to a stand and walking over to my side of the table.
I met her as she wasted no time latching herself around my neck and pressing a kiss to my lips.
The entire main room of Louie’s Italian Restaurant clapped and whistled.
That night, after I dropped Tate off at her place, I laid in bed staring at the ceiling fan.
It’s no secret that I love Tate. She’s my best friend.
The person I call when I’m happy, sad, or mad.
She calls me out when I need it and has never left my side, even when I probably deserved to get the boot.
She saved me from myself. I would be lucky to marry a girl like Tate.
I pull in next to her car, smiling like a fool because this weekend I’m going to make what happened at the restaurant real.
My hand slides to my front pocket where a Skoal can presses a big circle into my jeans.
I haven’t picked up chewing, but thought it was more stealthy than that fuzzy box my mama tried to get me to carry the ring in.
It was my great-memaw’s ring, and now it’s going to be Tate’s. ..hopefully.
The front door of the cabin flies open and out comes Tate wearing a rainbow bucket hat and a denim dress.
She smiles up at me at the truck’s window and I’m undone.
I was going to wait for a moment, somewhere with a nice big tree and views of the Rocky Mountains, but I don’t see myself making it past that porch without this ring on her finger.
I climb out, taking a big steady breath as I round the truck.
She’s got her hands in her hair, weaving the long strands into a braid.
“It got hot,” she says.
“That you are.”
She laughs, raising one brow. “What?”
But as soon as both my feet step onto the small porch, I pull the can from my pocket and get down on one knee.
“Tate...” I start.
“Since when do you chew tobacco?”
“I don’t. Just shh so I can finish.”
Her lips twist, unsure, but I start again anyways.
“Tate, you wear too many colors, say inside things outside, and always think the best of everyone you meet...even me. When I was at my worst, you loved me anyways. You constantly challenge me to be a better man, and I could never even begin to express my gratitude for you, but one thing I know for sure is I don’t ever want to lose you again.
” I flip open half the lid, pulling out the thin gold band with a chip of a diamond before holding it up to her. “Will you marry me?”
She’s nodding wildly, hands cupping her mouth as tears roll from either side. I stand, grabbing her left hand and slipping the ring on. It’s a perfect fit.
* * *