EPILOGUE
Evan
“Alright, one last song tonight,” I say as I clasp one hand over the microphone and balance my guitar over my knee. I just finished an acoustic version of my latest hit, Crazy Good, a song I wrote last year after Emma and I got back together. It’s about her and how crazy fucking good my life became with her in it.
Since then, I’ve written a lot of songs about Emma, and you know what? My fans fucking love it. I’ve become like this modern-day romance hero or some shit because I write about my feelings for her. Apparently, that not only makes women’s panties combust, but it also makes their hearts swoon with rapture. It’s nothing but a pure goddamn joy that Emma is revered by my fans.
“This last one you all know,” I say softly into the microphone, and then tilt my head to the right. The cheering starts to build, reaching a crescendo as they all know what’s coming. My eyes land on her, and she blows me a kiss. “This one is called… Emma.”
And everyone goes fucking nuts.
And they should.
It’s an awesome song, having spent seven weeks at #1 on the Billboard Charts. It’s my best work in my humble opinion.
I have to hide my smile widening as my gaze focuses in on Cary and Midge standing a few feet behind Emma. She has no clue they came in for the concert. They’ve been in VIP seating but were led backstage per my instructions a few moments ago.
The lights turn down low and a lone spotlight shines down on me. I plug at the strings of my guitar, which ring clear and true with absolutely no other music to accompany. Cap, Jimmy, and Dilana exited the stage the minute the lights dimmed.
It’s just me and my words about Emma now.
I close my eyes and I reach into my heart, immediately latching onto the feeling and letting it lead the way.
The crowd sings along with me, because like me… they love Emma.
The song is beautiful and poignant. A constant reminder to me of how lucky I am.
It speaks of love and joy, trust and acceptance. I share with my fans how I love to lay in bed with her on rainy mornings. How she nags me to put the dishes in the dishwasher. I’m told it’s especially swoon worthy when my voice drops low, and I wonder what she’d look like pregnant with my child. I’ve heard that men are getting laid left and right by their women after I sing that she would never be more beautiful.
It’s the best song I’ve ever written, and it will never be topped.
I’m okay with that, because it’s just a song and I have the real deal standing right over there.
My eyes open and my head turns again, pinning her in place as I sing the last lines.
She’s mine for days, an eternity even… and yet that could never be enough.
Because she’s Emma.
The last notes of the song fade away and the crowd goes crazy. I turn back to the mic and in a husky voice—because I always get emotional at the end of that song—I tell the crowd, “Thank you all for coming. I love you.”
The noise is deafening and will ultimately result in an encore chant. They know I’ll be back.
But for now, I slip off the stool, rest my guitar against it, and walk off the stage toward Emma.
She beams at me, pride etched all over her face even as she wipes tears away. That song always gets her.
“You were wonderful,” she says as I pull her in for a hard hug.
“Pretty much,” I tease her, and she pinches me just below my ribs.
Chuckling, I pull back from her, put my hands on her shoulders, and turn her 180 degrees around so she’s facing her dad and Midge standing there.
She goes still for just a moment, and then she shrieks in delight. She hasn’t seen her dad in almost four months, as we’ve been out on the West Coast recording a new album before we launched into this most recent concert tour. I went ahead and signed a one-album deal with Phoenix, as they kept after me. With some hard wheeling and dealing by my fabulous attorney/manager/publicist, we were able to strike a deal that not only made sense financially, but also made me comfortable with how much of my personal life would belong to them, which wasn’t very much. I had to commit to some publicity appearances, but it was all doable in my mind since Emma would always be with me.
My life is almost at the pinnacle of perfection. My career is soaring, Emma was so ferocious in how she dealt with Tyler and his attorneys that they’ve slunk off into the darkness with their tails between their legs, and I know in my heart there will come a day when I get everything I wished for in that song I just sang.
Emma pulls away from me and launches herself at her dad, who wraps her up in a hug and lifts her off her feet. Then he lets her go, and she gives Midge an equally hard hug, and that right there warms my fucking heart. Those two are as thick as thieves now, and I suppose they both feel a little smug that Midge’s machinations are what eventually drove us back together again.
I just stand there watching, both my hands shoved down into my pockets.
Where my fingers on my right hand toy with the little black velvet box tucked inside.
She has no clue this is coming.
Completely oblivious.
Cary and Midge obviously do, which is why I had them flown here for this concert.
But Emma?
No way.
I can’t wait to see the look on her face when I pull that ring out and ask her to give me more than an eternity.
She’ll say yes, of course, and then my life will be complete.
The End
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