I couldn’t reach Austin. He wasn’t picking up his phone, he wasn’t answering texts, he wasn’t at his apartment, and I even tried calling the recording studio. Nothing. Finally, I remembered that I had Zoey’s number.

“I need to talk to Austin,” I told her when she picked up.

“He’s at the VMAs,” she responded. “Can it wait?”

“No,” I said, knowing that if I didn’t act now, I might lose my nerve. “Can you give me the address?”

I could tell that she was reluctant to, but once I begged, she relented and texted me the address. I grabbed the first cab I could, and we headed towards midtown. The closer we got to Madison Square Garden, the thicker traffic became.

“Can’t we go any faster?” I asked. My knees were shaking with nerves.

“Sorry, the whole block’s cordoned off.”

I bounced impatiently. “You know what? I’ll walk.” I threw some money at him and got out of the car. My work flats weren’t the best for running, but I didn’t care, weaving through the crowds of people gathered around, all of them straining to get a look at the celebrities and musicians that were arriving on the red carpet. By the time I reached the front of the crowd, I was sweating, and certain that I looked like a complete crazy person, with my hair wild and my eyes even wilder.

“I need to see Austin James,” I told one of the security guards, but he ignored me.

I couldn’t really blame him. I probably looked like a crazed fan who would do anything to get to Austin.

Which was absolutely correct.

I strained to see the red carpet, but it was blocked by paparazzi and security. There was no way I was going to be able to get to Austin from here. I had to try something else.

My heart pounding in my chest, I pushed away from the front of the crowd and began circling the block, looking for a way in. There was security everywhere, but I began to notice that some of the guards were a little less attentive than others. When I found one of them taking a smoke break with his phone, I knew I had my in.

I just had to wait until he was completely distracted.

Luckily, someone towards the front of the building decided to start a fight, and requests for backup began crackling out of the guard’s walkie-talkie. I waited for him to turn the corner and then dashed over the barricade and into the building.

It took a moment for me to get my bearings. I was somewhere backstage at the stadium, surrounded by action. There were people everywhere, but none of them gave me a second glance—they were all too busy with equipment to notice I wasn’t supposed to be there.

Keeping my eyes peeled, I made my way towards what I thought was probably the stage. It seemed to be the place everyone was heading, and as I got closer, I heard music, and I knew I was going in the right direction.

Whoever was playing finished and there was a huge roar of applause. I moved closer, scanning the faces around me for anyone who looked familiar. I saw plenty of celebrities, plenty of musicians, but not the one person I had come to see.

“After the band broke up,” a voice from the stage was saying, “a lot of Method of Madness fans were distraught. So it was a great day for them—for all of us—when the announcement came that he was coming out with a solo album.”

There were loud cheers, and I moved closer to the sound—closer to the main stage.

“We all waited patiently for this album—and I think we can all agree that it did not disappoint. Now, it is my great honor to welcome Austin James to the stage.”

The crowd went crazy, and I managed to get to the side of the stage just as Austin walked out from the other side.

“Thank you so much,” he said to the crowd. “It’s great being back, and I’m blessed to have some of the most amazing fans in the world. So I hope you won’t mind me playing something new. Even newer than the album. It’s a song I wrote for someone I care deeply about.”

I watched from the side of the stage as he strummed his guitar. I immediately recognized the song. It was one he had been working on while we were at the cabin. My heart leapt into my throat, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. There was nothing better in the world than watching Austin perform. Watching him do exactly what he had been born to do. I felt an overwhelming sense of pride for him—knowing that with this album he had achieved something special. And this song only proved that he would continue to create incredible music. Because it seemed to flow from him, pure and precious and perfect.

Just like he was to me.

He started singing, and I gripped the side of the stage, afraid I might lose my balance if I didn’t have something to hold onto.

“I kissed you against the bricks,” he sang. “And thought about you every night. You haunted my dreams. Invaded my fantasies. I could never forget you. I never wanted to.”

Tears welled up in my eyes as Austin seemed to be pouring every emotion into the song. I could feel his love, and my own love for him only seemed to expand, filling me up. I never thought it could be this way, but it was. It was perfect.

“You beat me at pinball. You beat me at darts. You beat me at everything—and you took my heart.”

I couldn’t help smiling at the lyrics, remembering our afternoons at the arcade. Teasing each other and playing dirty. The way I wanted to spend the rest of my life. As long as he was at my side.

I wanted to tell him all of this, but even though he was only a few feet away from me, he was too far. I couldn’t reach him.

But then, Austin looked up from his guitar, turning his head towards the side of the stage. Our eyes met. I wanted to run to him—wanted to take him in my arms and kiss him, but this was not the moment. Instead I mouthed.

“I’m sorry.”

He gave me a brief nod, but before he looked away, I mouthed something else. The most important thing. The thing I’d never said to anyone who wasn’t a family member or a beloved friend. The thing I needed Austin to know.

“I love you,” I told him.

Immediately his entire expression changed. A huge grin bloomed on his face—one that I could only mirror. Happiness overwhelmed me as I watched him. He might have been performing for the audience, but he was singing for me. The song was for me. All of it was for me.

“It was always you,” he sang. “Before I knew it, before I believed it. It was always you.”

The crowd was going wild, eating up every word, but we were lost in our own world. Just the two of us together, our eyes locked, unable to look away. The song was beautiful, but it was nothing compared to the man who was singing it.

“You’re my everything,” Austin sang to me. “I don’t want to go on without you.”

He finished the song, and the crowd erupted into cheers. But Austin didn’t even seem to notice, because the minute the last note played, he put his guitar down and ran towards me. Within the blink of an eye I was in his arms, and he was kissing me. It was as if we had never been apart. As if everything bad that had happened now just disappeared. Everything was going to be fine because I was with Austin.

“I love you,” I told him in between his frantic kisses.

He pulled back long enough to grin at me.

“Say it again,” he ordered.

“I love you,” I said, my own smile threatening to split my face in two.

“I love you too,” he told me, holding me tight. “I always have, and I always will.”