My fingers glide over the keys and I smile at Scarlett and Isaac. Scarlett is singing, headphones on, mouth to the microphone, and I’m playing in the background with Isaac. We’re playing around with a song. Today, all the recording staff are here, as well as Susan, who I haven’t seen since we came home from being on tour. The album is in full swing now, songs are being written, recorded and tweaked. Videos are being made. Covers are being created.

This is really it.

This is what it’s all about.

The first song we’re working on is “Whiskey Burning”. Which Scarlett started writing on the road. The song is inspired by Maverick, and even though I can’t really hear her singing it, I can feel the tune through my playing, and I can feel the love by the way she closes her eyes and sways as she sings the lines we both worked so tirelessly to create.

Of course, the recording staff are tweaking things, but we mostly came up with everything before we presented it to them. Scarlet had a certain sound she wanted on the song, and she wasn’t going to let them change it. She said any other song she writes for the album, they can change to their heart’s content, but not this one.

She also requested it become her newest single.

It’s going to be incredible.

Maverick hasn’t heard it yet. She wants it to be a surprise. We have a few live concerts in Denver in the upcoming weeks. Scarlett likes to do a few home concerts when she’s here. We’re also doing one for the annual fair, where hundreds of thousands of people will see us perform live over a course of four days. It’s a great opportunity, and I’m so excited to be part of it.

Scarlett puts a hand up, stopping us from playing, and turns to me. “I don’t love the chorus.” She frowns. “I mean, I love the words, but I just don’t like how it sounds. Any suggestions?”

I purse my lips. “Can we play it one more time? And do you mind if I sing the notes, so I get more of a feel as to how they sound?”

Scarlett nods happily.

I wrote out the music, and she tried and tested it, loving it, but it’s hard for me to fully get an idea of what she’s wanting without hearing it. When I sing it, I can hear it, and I can feel it a whole lot better. That was mostly how I became so familiar with her style, by playing and singing her songs over and over, until I knew them like the back of my hand.

I close my eyes and start playing, letting the music travel over me. Then I sing to myself, getting a feel for the song, trying to understand exactly what it is she feels it’s missing.

“Burning, oh, like a flame. Burning, oh, untamed. Your heart trapped mine, there before the sunrise, and it took me so long, oh sweetheart, so long, to realize ... that you were my fire, my whiskey, my burning desire.”

I know what it’s missing, the moment I stop singing and my eyes pop open. “It’s the last verse! My fire, my whiskey, my burning desire. It needs to be higher, it needs to drag out a little more. At the moment, it’s too slow.”

I hold Scarlett’s eyes, and she’s just staring at me. Face blank. Oh, God. I’ve offended her. I glance at Isaac, he’s staring at me, too. Great. I’ve put my foot right in it. I never meant to upset her. Did my words come out too harshly? Quickly, I try to correct my mistake. “I’m so sorry, Scarlett. I wasn’t trying to be rude, or offensive. I don’t know anything about music, at all, and—”

“You can sing.”

I read the words on her lips so clearly, but they still confuse me all the same.

“Pardon me?”

“You can sing?”

Her hands raise up, and she claps, over and over, then runs over, pressing her hand to her mouth for a moment, before leaning forward and putting her hands on my shoulders. “Amalie, you can sing! Why didn’t you tell me you had such a breathtaking voice?”

I do?

I’ve never sung before, well, I have to myself but everyone sounds good to themselves. Piano has always been my passion. I’ve never once thought about singing. Maybe she’s just being nice. Scarlett would think anyone sounded good if she loved them enough.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “No, I can’t sing.”

“You can sing! That was ... incredible! The way you sung that, the way your voice captured those words. It came out exactly how it sounded in my head and now I know why, because it’s inspired by your music. You wrote that to the version in your head, and I just heard it and I loved it. But what I loved more is that you can sing! And you’re incredible!”

I shake my head, cheeks rosy. “Honestly ... no ...”

“Isaac,” Scarlett says, and we both look to Isaac.

He nods, eyes still on me, intense. “You can sing, Amalie. Outside of Scarlett, that is the best damn voice I’ve heard in a very long time, and music is my life.”

They’re just being nice. Right?

I can’t sing.

Can I?

The door opens and Susan walks in, followed by another one of the producers for the album, Steve. Susan’s eyes fall on me, and she smiles, which is rare for her. “Well, Amalie, I have to say I’m blown away. You hid that incredible talent very well.”

“You have a beautiful voice,” Steve tells me.

Scarlett rushes over to Susan and starts rambling something to her. I watch them, their conversation quick, flinging back and forth, and then finally Susan nods, pulls out her phone and leaves with Steven in tow. I rush over to Scarlett. “What did you just do?”

She grins, big, strong, proud. “I just asked her if we can record a few songs together, with both of us singing, on the album. It will add a fresh new spark, something incredible. She is going to speak to my label and the producers, and see if they’ll allow one or two songs to incorporate you and your voice, as well.”

I stare at her. “But ... I can’t ... I can’t sing.”

“You can, Amalie.”

“Not professionally. Scarlett, I can’t hear myself as well as a normal person. I wouldn’t know if I was singing right, or wrong, I’ll just make a fool out of myself and ruin your album.”

I’m rambling.

Because I’m nervous.

I play the piano. I don’t sing.

“Amalie, listen to me,” she says, hands on my shoulders, brown eyes locked on mine. “You feel music. You feel it right into your very soul, and that’s why when you closed your eyes and sang then, you didn’t miss a beat. Because you trust yourself. You trust music. And you trust how it feels. You won’t let me down, you could never let me down. If they agree, can you just try one with me, just try it? If we hate it, it doesn’t have to go on the album. You will still be playing for me, but please, will you see if we can do this?”

I stare at her, my best friend, and I know I’d do anything for her.

What’s wrong with trying?

I swallow and nod. “Okay, I’ll try, but Scarlett, if it doesn’t feel right, please don’t push me.”

“I promise! Oh, I’m so excited!”

She leans forward and hugs me, and I return it, smiling at Isaac over her shoulder.

My life just took somewhat of an unexpected turn.

It seems to be doing that a lot lately.

And I’m not sure I mind.

~*~*~*~