Going under for the transplant surgery had been a walk in the park on a warm summer afternoon compared to what Tristan was about to face. Almost as terrifying as the day his mom got accepted into that top-notch research program for a new kidney drug. Seventy thousand raging fans, in all senses of the word, could make them or break them. The first stadium concert in the meteoric career of the Knight’s Edge band. A game-changer for the band members. He hoped the concert would turned out to be as successful as Arthur’s transplant, and Lilly’s recovering health. Like his son’s and mom’s ordeals, any small slipup could cause the band members everything they had worked for so far. And throw their future into the trash can of History.

No wonder he got the jitters.

Glancing about, he found out his band mates wore the same shade of green on their expressions. Given the fact their queasiness didn’t result from hangover, Tristan burst laughing. “We make for a sad bunch. Come on, cheer up! We’re fucking going to rock this place.”

Aidan, Duke, and Noah whooped and slapped Tristan’s outstretched hand. They filed out of the dressing room and toward the end of the corridor leading to the stage. He now regretted agreeing with Izzie, and the other ladies, that they should come backstage only after the band had gone onstage. He need his wife to kill those damn butterflies knocking themselves around in his stomach.

Fuck. Izzie calms me down. I don’t want to do this without her.

As he stepped onto the stage, blinded by the spotlight, his ears got pierced by the roar of the fans. Blinking, he caught Noah’s stare as he perched on stool behind the drum set. They high-fived and Noah shouted over the fan’s shrieks, “We’ve made it, bro.”

“We’re almost there, almost there.”

Laughing out loud, Noah ruffled the drums as Tristan’s assistant handed him his guitar. A wide grin split his lips, and he hurled into the mic, “This is Knight’s Edge. Are you ready to rock?”

Seventy thousand voices shouted Sim, the Portuguese word for yes. The band had chosen São Paulo, the largest city in Brazil, to kick off the first leg of their first stadium tour with twenty sold-out concerts in seven different cities in South America. Florianópolis would be the last one. The concerts had sold-out in hours, which convinced the sponsors to expand the tour. A second leg was going to take the band around the United States also with sold-out concerts in every city.

Knowing they were going to perform to full houses every night had translated into more pressure for the band. They had rehearsed, and planned, and rehearsed, and strategized, and rehearsed some more. They were terrified they would blew their big chance. The four band mates had sat down and laid out rules for the performance, the idea being they wanted to avoid small incidents they had dealt with in the past. Small incidents in bars or arenas could potentially become huge disasters if they happened in stadiums.

All went according to their plans, until halfway through the set. When Noah smashed the cymbals and Aidan joined him in one of Knight’s Edge first hits, the audience jumped up and down following Duke’s energetic performance. Tristan stalked to one end of the stage during his solo, the fans at the rails reaching out, some managed to touch his feet and legs. Although he loved the vibe he got from their audience, that was one example of a tricky situation that could go very wrong in an event as big as that. He glanced at Aidan, who was unfazed, but nowhere near the hands of the fans.

Tristan retraced his steps to the middle of the stage just to be on the side of caution. Then his stomach dropped when Duke pulled a fan up on stage.

Motherfucker never learns! What part of ‘don’t’ didn’t he get?

Rule number one for their stadium concerts had been that Mr. Ricardo Alcântara, aka Duke, would not under any circumstances try to pull off his old theatrics. They might have worked in small arenas with tight security, but they were too risky for stadiums.

While Duke slowed dance with the fan to the song Noah had wrote for his lady, the thousands of voices that filled the arena became one harmonic choir. The haunting beauty of the verses never failed to give Tristan goosebumps. Damn Baby Face knew how to melt hearts.

He tipped his head to Noah, who saluted back with his stick, as Duke sang the last verses of the drummer’s song and led the fan back to the pit between the stage and the public. The security staff helped her to down, and Tristan let out a deep sigh. He would call an emergency meeting after the concert to put some sense into Duke’s block head.

A couple of songs later, Tristan shouted into his mic, “Obrigado, São Paulo. Thank you, São Paulo. Goodnight.”

They left the stage, but the lights remained dimmed. They had opted for a simple stage with straightforward lightening, and almost zero technology. Except for the giant screens streaming images captured by the cameras. The screens were a must in stadiums or most of the people in the audience wouldn’t see the band at all.

Their team quickly set the stage for the encore, and Tristan got cold feet. “Duke, I can’t do this, man. They’ve been listening to you for almost two hours. Your voice sounds as great out there as it does in the albums.”

“Thanks, but what does it have to do with anything?”

“I suck,” Tristan explained.

“You lost me,” Aidan told Tristan.

“He doesn’t want to sing the next song. Wuss.” Noah glared at Tristan.

“Agree,” Izzie’s voice sounded behind Tristan. For the first time, it didn’t lull him. “You wrote it for us, I recorded it with you. We’ve sung it live before. It makes no sense for Duke to sing it.”

Tristan eyeballed the people standing in front of him and shrugged. “You’re right. Even if miss my cue or sing out of key, it won’t beat Duke’s fiasco in our first show.”

“Oh, no. Nothing beats that,” Duke agreed, laughing.

Izzie pecked his lips. “Let’s do this.”

The crowd stomped the ground, demanding more songs. The band members got ready to return to the stage, Noah at the head of the procession, Aidan and Duke followed him. Tristan waited until the three were set, Duke received a guitar from Tristan’s assistant and the audience roared.

Tristan still got dumbstruck when stuff like that happened. He confessed to Izzie, “That blows my mind. They know what’s coming next.”

She smiled, and his world made sense again. “They know, silly, because they’re your fans.”

She pushed him, and he got on the stage, standing under the sole spotlight directed to his mic.

“This is You’re My Favorite Lullaby,” he muttered, and the fans hollered.

That song had started as a poem he wrote for their wedding. Instead of traditional vows, they decided to read poetry. Later, his band mates nagged him until Tristan caved in and tweaked the poem a little. It went on to become one of their most enduring hits.

Tristan sang the first verses facing the audience.

You stole my life in a heartbeat

You killed my love in a dirty suite

The promises I made, you broke

The love that I gave, you choked

As Duke strummed the chords in a soulful solo, Izzie walked onstage. When the fans realized she was going to sing next, like the studio version of the song, the shrieking increased.

Izzie held Tristan’s hand and they faced each other, as she sang.

Ghost of love haunts my dream

Shadows cast from within

Until a blood orange evening sky

Shows me you’re my favorite lullaby

The couple sang the last verses together.

I was numb, I was done

You reached in, you opened up

You let me in, you lift me up

We proved our love was the one

As Izzie walked out of the stage at the end of their song, waving at the fans, and blowing kisses his way, Tristan grinned. He spoke into the mic, “Ladies and gentlemen, that was Izzie Anderson. As some of you know, she’s been a Fairy Godmother of sorts to our little band. We owe her so much.” He clapped, the other band members joined with enthusiasm, and the audience howled. “Thank you, honey.” He spotted her standing backstage and Izzie bowed her head in response, but gestured for him to cut it out. “I’d better wrap up, the missus is getting mad. I hope she spanks me later tonight.” The stadium shook as the fans guffawed and Tristan snorted. “Seriously, though. Izzie makes me want to be a better person. I’m blessed she decided to give me a second chance at loving her.” He turned and held her stare, speaking into the mic. He wanted the world to hear it, but the only person that mattered was her. “I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life proving you made a good decision.”

Before he knew it, Izzie’s legs were wrapped around his waist, and their mouths were locked in a passionate kiss. Cheers from the crowd, whoops from his band mates, all faded out. All he heard was the beating of her heart against his.

That was his favorite lullaby.