“You two!” Artie puts our food on the table before throwing his arms around Cole and just about lifting him out of his chair. I can’t help but laugh at the surprise and embarrassment practically pouring off my former partner. Artie gives me the same treatment, a little gentler though. “My servers told me you were out here, and there was a cute guy with bedroom eyes sitting with you!”

I laugh at the expression on Cole’s face when he hears this. “And you guessed it was him?”

“I didn’t dare hope,” Artie laughs. “But here you are! It’s just like the old days! What are you doing together? Performing again?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” I laugh, waving my hands. “Not at all. Just here for something to eat and a little reminiscing. That’s it.”

He shakes his slightly sweaty head. He’s a big guy and sweated so much he had to carry a towel with him in summer. “Come on. You can’t tease me like this. You’ve gotta do just one song. Please?”

I glance at Cole with a would-you-please-get-us-out-of-this look.

He clears his throat and opens his palms. “Not this time, Artie. I don’t even have a guitar with me, and I can’t tell you the last time I played. It’s been years. Hell knows if I can still play.”

“Nonsense. Music is like riding a bike. You never forget. I have a guitar in back, freshly tuned. You can still pick out a song. Something simple. Please?” He’s doing everything but dropping to his knees and wringing his hands.

We look at each other.

Then I shrug and give in gracefully. “Can we eat our food while it’s still hot though?” I ask Artie with a wink.

“Yes! Yes, go ahead! Just give me the signal, and I’ll tell everybody you’re gonna go up there.” He practically clicks his heels together as he hurries away.

“Are you serious?” Cole hisses.

“Oh, come on. Who wanted to keep going down Memory Lane?” I tease.

“You were the one who didn’t want to draw attention to yourself tonight,” he reminds me.

“Yeah, well, I changed my mind.”

His eyes crinkle up. “You do know I’m gonna make a complete fool out of myself up there?”

“I’m not expecting you to play a twenty-five-minute guitar solo.” I take a big bite out of my burger and pretend I’m not laughing at him. We take our time eating—or, in his case, stalling for time. It’s not like we were performing complicated songs back in the day. Finally, Cole wipes his hands and mouth on a napkin.

Artie is standing behind the bar watching us the same as everybody else. I catch his eyes and he makes a beeline for the stage. Oh, jeez. I hope this wasn’t a terrible idea. All I need is for somebody to record me looking like an idiot.

“Everybody, everybody!” Artie stands behind the microphone, arms in the air. “I have a surprise for you tonight!”

Just like that, the room explodes. Either they were all hoping I would sing or he’s been blabbing to everybody that we agreed to perform. Regardless, the crowd goes wild. I can hardly hear my heart beating in my ears as Cole leads the way to the corner where Artie’s waiting with a guitar. I do my little bow and wave to the people crowding the stage.

“Okay, okay. Thank you.” I sit on one of the two stools Artie pulled out for us and take a sip of water. Cole, meanwhile, strums a few chords and does a few runs, loosening his fingers. For a man who hasn’t played guitar in forever, he sounds pretty good. I wonder if he was telling the truth when he said he hasn’t been playing.

When I look over at him, and he smiles at me the way he always used to smile, the years fall away. We might as well be teenagers again. Our whole lives ahead of us. Nothing but hope. And as long as we had each other back then, we had it all.

Then something happens. That old magic. I know he feels it, too.

He strums through the opening chords of Fleetwood Mac’s Landslide and the cheering from the audience tells me it’s a good choice. One of our favorites, back in the day. The older folks always loved it, and that was who we normally played for. As an adult, the lyrics have a new meaning for me.

I open my mouth to sing. “Took my love, took it down …”

Cole smiles at me again, and we watch each other as he plays and I sing, and it’s just the two of us. Nobody else. The audience blurs, fades. We might as well be the only two people in the world, spinning a web around ourselves. When we reach the chorus, and he takes up the harmony, my heart swells until I’m afraid it might choke me. I keep singing through it all, and by the time the last notes ring out from the guitar, there are tears in my eyes.

“One more. One more,” the crowd chants.

“Another?” I mouth, and he nods with a sly grin.

It looks like we’re putting on a concert.