Chapter 56 Aria
Aria
Aria turns to the crowd. “I want to thank you all for being here tonight. The great city of Los Angeles always feels like home away from home, and I’m thrilled we could kick off the tour together.”
Aria waves with both hands, and the crowd cheers. The set is complete, and her first tour performance can officially be checked from her list.
Griffin slips his hand onto the small of Aria’s back in support but hangs back.
Aria loves how happy Griffin is to support her without needing the spotlight himself.
Not because she’s not willing to share it; in fact, she’s always trying to rope him into joining her under the lights, and she’s often left to call him out publicly like she just did.
Once a homebody, always a homebody, it seems. But the real reason is how it reflects his own deep confidence. How he’s grounded.
Aria turns and winds her fingers into his, then looks up into his eyes.
She loves being onstage, performing solo, but Aria also loves the feel of Griffin at her side.
Especially as he’s thrown himself into his foundation work, she’s had a front-row seat to a special sort of blossoming, a second act that might just eclipse the first. He’s astounding and inspiring—which bodes particularly well for song inspiration.
If she’s not careful, the next album might as well be named Griffin Hayes.
Aria waves to the crowd. She pulls Griffin into her side and drops her head on his chest. The band fires up the final walkout music, a synthesized medley of all the songs Aria just performed, and the houselights start to turn on.
Aria disentangles from Griffin to return the microphone to its stand, but as soon as she’s back within arm’s reach, Griffin pulls her into his arms.
“You are amazing. That show? It was next level.” Griffin is beaming, and Aria feels like her insides are glittering. Her face breaks into a deep smile.
“Thank you for playing along at the end.” Aria rests on Griffin’s chest.
“Anything for you.”
Aria had planned to ask Griffin if he thought they should add another song to the lineup, a surprise backlist hit played for each performance, but in his arms, the urgency she’d had fades.
“Thank you for coming.”
Griffin grins. “I wouldn’t have missed it. Not for the world.”
“Can you believe we almost didn’t get this?” Aria knows she doesn’t need to clarify—she means them, not the album that also once lived on shaky ground.
“I almost messed it up. Well, I did mess up, but then you put it back together.”
“Eh. We both did. I wouldn’t have had the courage to go for it without you.”
Griffin runs a hand up Aria’s arm, and it sends a shiver over her that radiates to the tips of her fingers. “We do make a pretty good team.”
Aria once thought her team was fully loaded with every best professional with connections to every best service.
So much so that the suggestion that her team might be incomplete would’ve been laughable.
What a surprise it is that today Griffin Hayes, stuck right in the middle of her life, has become such an integral part of her world.
A cheerleader, a friend, a support person (giving much-needed relief to Bailey), and more than everything else combined, a real chance at love.
Aria reaches up onto her tiptoes and presses her lips into Griffin’s. The roughness of his skin to her softness is just like each of them to each other. Imperfect alone but perfect complements to each other.
“I love you, Griff.”
Aria closes her eyes, and the arena, the crowd, the lights all fade, and it’s only the two of them. It’s funny how often that happens nowadays. How quickly life shrinks to the two of them, all of the extras falling away.
Griffin snakes his palm around the back of Aria’s neck and pulls her into another kiss. “I love you too. Thank goodness I just couldn’t hold back during ‘Glass Heart.’”
Aria giggles. “Even if that last song was written about you, ‘Glass Heart’ will always be you.”
“As long as it doesn’t become us.”
Aria shakes her head vehemently at the idea of a breakup song pertaining to them. “Never.”
“Glad we’re on the same page.”
“I mean, who else am I going to call out onto the stage with me? There aren’t a lot of willing partners.” Aria sings the words with a playful smirk on her lips.
Griffin barks a laugh. “I can promise you there’d be a line around the block if you were looking. But unfortunately for those guys, the spot’s already taken.”
“Yeah? I like the sound of that. Here to stay?”
“As long as you’ll have me.”
Aria takes in Griffin under the lights, and she’s certain that choosing him—to not let him slip away—is one of the best decisions she’s ever made.
Her world has grown and expanded with him in it, and Aria is no longer chained by the impulse for perfection or limited by the walls she built years ago.
It’s difficult to remember the time before Griffin—like he’s been tethered to her by some invisible string all along—but Aria feels the echoes of her old life, the smallness, the fear wound around her.
Even if from all appearances she was living large, her heart was locked away, her body wound tight with perfectionism.
Griffin helped her break free from that, and in this new place there are so many more possibilities.
It’s like opening all of the windows in the house after winter, a fresh breeze carrying the promise of warmer days.
Life together is so much more beautiful. Boundless.
“I’m hoping you’ll stay,” Aria says, wistful eyes set upon him.
“That was my only plan.”
Even when the stage lights shut off, leaving them in total dark, Aria doesn’t want to go. Here in this moment with Griffin is all the best parts of her life tied into one. When she glances out, the venue is almost empty, only a few hardy fans waiting to witness her and Griffin’s entire encounter.
“I guess we should go,” Griffin says. “You know, before they physically kick us out.”
Aria smiles slowly, unhurried. “If we must.”
Griffin releases her from his arms, and Aria pushes away the swell of disappointment at pulling apart. He takes her hand, and when their eyes meet, they look at each other exchanging unsaid words, promises, and plans.
This was what all of those songs were about, all of those boy-meets-girl love songs.
One look at Griffin, one deep flutter of the heart, and Aria knows.
They just didn’t do the feeling justice.