Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LOU
I ’m mid-set in Augusta, running backstage when Manny grabs me. I have all of two minutes for my wardrobe change and a quick breather, and I try to do both as he talks to me, his gaze averted.
I’m wearing a nude unitard onesie beneath my clothes, but I appreciate the gesture.
“Just got a call from the label. They have a surprise coming for you on stage.”
“What?” My wardrobe techs are pulling my black ball gown on me while I stand with my arms stretched wide. My custom IEMs are incredible—everything Patty promised and more—but I have to pop them out to hear Manny. And that’s when the audience noise floods me. It’s so loud that I feel like I’m being washed away. Good thing my wardrobe team is holding me so tight.
“The label has a surprise for you! They said to go along with it,” he yells.
I shake my head, trying to figure out what in the world Third Street Records would send me during a concert.
With my dress on, I stomp into my rhinestone boots. “Manny, do you know what it is?”
“No. They said they’ll call me when it’s here, and it should be any minute.”
“If it’s a live snake, I’m quittin’ this tour,” I yell, holding my IEM at the ready so I can push it back in.
“It’s not a live snake,” he calls.
A stage tech gives me my cue, and I nod, sweeping past Manny and by Patty’s table. I bite my lip to hold back a smile as I pass him, and he doesn’t return the favor. He full-on smirks.
I’m marching across the stage to my grand piano when I hear him in my ear.
“You could be an assassin in that dress. Grown men all over this theater just had heart attacks.”
I duck my head, smiling as I sit down. My fingers land on the piano, and the music pours out of me.
Music is always emotional for me, but right now, I’m feeling all sorts of ways, and the song even sounds different. My heart isn’t cracked open as I bleed at the piano. The skies are open as my song rises to heaven. And when I play the last chord and sing the last note, I’m floating up with it.
I stand and wave at the crowd, wishing for a moment that I could see them, wishing I could hear them. I take a few steps forward to the vibrating plate and glance over at Patty. He must know what I’m thinking, because instantly, the crowd is in my ears.
And in my heart.
That’s when I feel a tap on my shoulder at the same time I hear gasps from the audience.
And Connor Nash is standing right in front of me with a bouquet of red roses.
My hands fly to my face as my heart beats like a drum. “Connor?”
He’s eight years older than I am, but he still has that boyish charm that launched him so rapidly to fame. Even with his stage makeup on, his piercing blue eyes and easy grin could make hearts flutter. His golden-brown hair is artfully tousled, making him look like the boy you’d want to take home to momma.
His smile could stop the sun in its orbit, and the way the crowd is cheering, we’re gonna need a lot more fainting couches.
“I’m patching him into your ear now,” a voice like honeyed whiskey says.
Patty.
And suddenly, his voice clashes with Connor’s face, and I don’t know how I feel.
But Connor’s smiling, and he’s clearly the surprise my label had arranged. Manny told me I’m supposed to “go along with it,” whatever that means. I take the roses, but I can’t keep the shock from my face.
“You know I’ve been following every leg of your tour online,” he says loudly to me into a microphone one of the sound techs must have given him. His amplified voice echoes in the cavernous concert hall over the screaming fans. “When I found out how close we’d be, I couldn’t stand another night of us being two buses passing. I thought this was as good an opportunity as any to … ask you out on a date?”
Rapture. That’s the only way to describe the level of fanaticism and screaming happening in the arena. It’s almost too much noise.
I laugh in disbelief but shoot my eyes offstage toward Patty’s. He turns down the audience, and I’m once again comforted knowing he understands exactly what I need.
And it’s not this.
But … my label said to go along with it. And, I mean, I’ve had a crush on the man for years. I know what I have to say. And I should want to say it, right?
“Yes, obviously!” I say.
He throws his arm in the air and whoops, then picks me up and spins me around.
He’s not as tall as Patty, and not as strong, either, but that’s a stupid comparison. He’s plenty tall and plenty strong, and when he sets me down and goes in for a?—
Holy honky-tonk, is he coming in for a kiss?
I panic as his face—that famous, handsome face—gets closer to me. I try to hold still, but at the last possible second, I turn my head so his lips land on my cheek, and I hear him chuckle in my ear.
“Not ready to go all in, eh, darlin’?” he says, nuzzling against my ear.
I try to laugh, but I feel so awkward. So uncertain and confused and …
Uncomfortable.
I feel so uncomfortable.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to say, how I’m supposed to act. But I have a famous rock star and an arena full of cheering fans who want something from me, and my job is to give it to them.
So I squeal and push back from Connor just enough to swat his chest.
And think.
“Nuh-uh,” I say in a sassy voice. “My parents are present. You really think I’m gonna kiss on the first date?”
Connor laughs into his microphone and steps back, bowing his head in apology. “Pardon me, Miss Lucy. You’re just so beautiful, I forgot my manners.”
“Mmm-hmm,” I say, eyeing him playfully.
He looks every bit the country star he is.
Even if he’s from California.
“Well, don’t just stand there, handsome. I got a song to play! Either pick up a guitar and show these fans what you got or wait for me backstage so we can …” I raise my eyebrows at him for effect, “set up that date.”
He holds a hand over his heart dramatically. “I don’t think your band would forgive me for stepping on their toes, so I’ll wait for you,” he says, walking backward over cords like he’s done this a hundred times.
Then he takes a half-dozen steps back and kisses my hand.
“I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
He says it with such sincerity, I can’t tell if he’s acting or not.
I bring the hand he kissed up to my mouth, my fingers touching my lips, and I’m not sure if I’m acting or not, either.
I look at the crowd, letting my eyes go as big as saucers. “Y’all, what am I supposed to do now? Connor Nash just kissed me on the cheek and asked me out!”
The noise from the crowd could blow the roof off this arena, and I let myself feel their joy, their excitement, as I laugh.
I just hope it will smooth over my nerves.
Is he really waiting backstage for me?
My band comes back on, playing one of the last songs in my setlist, and I run offstage to give the roses to a stage tech and tear away the ball gown, leaving the tight black mini dress.
“One more song and then the encore,” I whisper to myself.
“Counting down the seconds till you get to see your boyfriend?” Patty says in my ear, his voice as tart as rhubarb. But then it changes. “Put him out of your mind, Queenie. You command the stage as well as anyone I’ve ever seen. Finish strong.”
I have to pass his booth to get back on stage, and I spin and blow him a kiss before going out there. “Always do,” I say, the bravado helping me as much as his chuckle does.
Pushing Connor Nash out of my head, I focus on giving the fans the show they paid for. Their energy feeds me, giving me all the motivation I need.
But as soon as the encore is over—after my band hugs each other and smiles at me, after my bodyguard whisks me away into my dressing room—I’m left wondering if I have the motivation to leave for the unknown that awaits me in the green room.
Is he really waiting for me?
Do I want him to be?
And what if Patty’s out there?
That thought makes my guts clench like I have a stomach bug. I’m not sure if I’m more or less reluctant now.
I hang my head, pressing my fingertips into my jaw, which is so much better than the pressure point in my hand I always used to press. Fussing over what to do isn’t helping, and fussing at all is silly. My family is out there! I should go.
Funny enough, the idea of seeing my parents isn’t making this easier. My head throbs. At least there’s no media tonight. Apart from the first two after-parties with my friends, every other one has involved VIPs and meet and greets, and media galore, which has meant I’ve stayed in my dress and kept performing all night long.
At least now, I can perform in a plain black T-shirt, jeans, and …
Where did those slippers come from?
A pair of leather slipper boots sits on the floor next to my boots. They’re cute, too. Not high fashion, but cozy, with thick memory foam that feels like stepping on a cloud and a fuzzy lining that instantly makes my feet warmer.
Did one of the Janes send these? Or one of my sisters? Whoever got these for me knows me. And maybe it’s that reassurance—that someone knows me and cares for me so well—that gives me the push I need to leave the dressing room for the green room.
“There she is!” my momma calls out, throwing her arms in the air and rushing to me. She wraps me in a warm hug, and I sink into it as my dad and sisters soon follow suit.
“You were electric!” Momma says.
“Radiant,” Dad echoes. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
“Who could?” another voice says, and I whirl around to see Connor standing there, a flirty smile on his lips, his arms open for a hug.
My stomach flips as he pulls me into his arms and whispers in my ear. “I knew you were talented, but you blew me away.”
I step back when he releases me and smile when he takes my hands in his, holding them between us and stroking the backs of my hands with his thumbs. His hands aren’t much warmer than mine, but his touch is nice, and I’m a sucker for guitar calluses, which he has in abundance.
“Thank you! And thank you for coming! I still can’t believe you’re here.”
“I’m not for long, sadly. I gotta get back on the bus in a few minutes, but I just had to firm up our plans. And meet your parents, of course.” He looks at my mom, overlooking my dad completely. “I’ve been a huge fan for years.”
They smile graciously.
“Thank you, but Lucy is a better songwriter and performer than either of us ever were,” Momma says with a hint of firmness in her voice that says tonight isn’t about her.
And the fact that she has to use that tone at all is more disheartening than I care to admit.
Will I ever stop being a footnote attached to Winona Williams?
“She’s something, all right,” Connor agrees, his eyes roving over my face appreciatively. “I’ll have my assistant reach out to yours to figure out when we both have a break. Even if we have to fly to see each other, I want this to happen. I don’t want our next date to be on stage.”
“Okay,” I say with a simple smile. “Till then.”
He leans in and kisses my cheek, his skin smooth against mine.
“Till then,” he says.
His look, his touch, his words—they’re all so flattering. The way my sisters eye us as he hugs me goodbye would make anyone blush.
After he’s gone, I look at the red roses he left on the table. They’re in a huge vase and dwarf my yellow daffodils. And honestly, they’re gorgeous. He certainly spared no expense.
“What are you thinking about?” June asks me.
“It was nice of him to come …”
“But?”
“He doesn’t know me,” I say over the hum of conversation. “Yet,” I add with a smile.
“I thought you didn’t want any distractions,” she says, bumping my shoulder with hers.
“I don’t.” I look at my parents, who are smiling with their arms around each other’s waists, talking excitedly to Manny. “But I don’t want to die alone, either. A long-distance relationship with a fellow musician feels like a decent compromise.”
“Sure,” June says. “If you like him.”
“Who wouldn’t like Connor Nash?” I ask wistfully, staring at the flowers.
“That’s a better question for someone who knows him,” she says. “Ooh, pecan pie’s here. Want me to get you a slice?”
“Yes, please,” I say as she walks away.
But her words stay with me.
That’s a better question for someone who knows him.
I happen to know a guy.
Whether or not I can ask him is another matter altogether.
Patty doesn’t make an appearance all night. My parents send me off with an extra hug for him, which I think is a little much for someone who’s one step removed from being a stranger.
“Mom, why would I give Patty a hug for you?” I ask. “You barely know him.”
“He’s a good guy,” my dad says. “And besides, Ash vouched for him. Anyone she trusts, we trust.”
“I knew I never should have taken the Janes home for Spring Break sophomore year,” I grumble.
Mom laughs and gives me one last hug before I get on my bus. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too.”
I wave at my family until the bus pulls out of the parking lot, then head into the lounge, where my assistant is waiting.
“Hey, I haven’t seen you or Patty all night. Everything okay?”
“He went straight to bed after packing up his gear. I, however, have been monitoring your social media all night. You and Connor broke the internet.”
“Did we?” I rush to join her on the couch. “What are people saying?”
There are thousands of pictures of Connor surprising me on stage, and my shocked face looks more excited than I felt in the moment—thank goodness. There are pictures of me holding the flowers as he hugs me, kisses my cheek, kisses my hands. People have videos of me teasing him about his manners.
It’s everywhere. It’s absolutely everywhere.
And the comments!
@FanGirl4Life: I JUST WITNESSED HISTORY. CONNOR REALLY DID THAT. WE ARE LIVING IN A ROMANCE NOVEL.
@LJLover22: bro just reinvented grand gestures
@prettylovelove: does this mean we’re not shipping her and the brooding bodyguard?? or am I the only one who thought there was something there?
@B1ameDuncan: I don't even go here, but I'm INVESTED. Like, this is a love story for the ages.
@EmotionalMess: He kissed her hands. HE. KISSED. HER. HANDS. I’m never getting over this.
@NashNati0n: My man Connor said I’ll wait as long as it takes, and I respect him for it.
@ChaosConnor: Someone check on Lucy Jane—she literally just got fairytale-d in front of the whole world.
@MrsNash3091: The way he surprised her on stage?? The flowers?? The teasing?? THIS IS WHY I BELIEVE IN LOVE.
@NoShipNo: I CAN’T EVEN HATE. THEY’RE SO CUTE. TAKE MY HEART.
I stare at the screen.
This is the first night where I haven’t seen a reference to Winona after my show, and I’m not gonna lie—it feels good to take a break from being constantly compared to my famous mother.
Even if remembering how he almost kissed me makes my nerves feel like live wires.
Alicia keeps scrolling through post after post, comment after comment, until we’re both laughing.
“Looks like you have a wedding to plan,” she says.
I stare at her laptop in happy shock. “I think the Internet’s got it covered.”