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CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Jade

“You’re lookin’ a little peaked there, sugarplum.” My longtime makeup artist, Fannie Mason, meets my gaze in the mirror.

“It’s been a rough week,” I admit.

“Yeah, sex tapes will do that to you.” She shakes her head but it’s not with censure. “The media just loves that type of crap. But don’t worry—someone else will do something a lot worse any minute now, and they’ll forget all about you. I mean, that Tony Blackthorn’s wedding is all anybody’s talking about now…”

Ew .

Tony Blackthorn.

The guy Amber is marrying.

The one replacing Royal in his band.

Yuck. I don’t want to think about them so I tune out Fannie’s rambling, talking about who got Botox, who wants a facelift, and who’s rumored to be here tonight.

I don’t really care about any of it.

I go on stage in an hour and whereas I don’t get much stage fright anymore, there’s usually a little bit of jittery anxiety before a big show like this. Tonight, I feel nothing. No fear, no anxiety, no excitement—a big, fat nothing.

God, this sucks.

I’ve never experienced this kind of sadness—missing someone so much it’s often hard to breathe. How on earth am I going to get through a two-hour set? My plan to work Royal out of my system appears to be failing miserably.

“Now you look like your usual million-dollar self!” Fannie says, turning my chair so I can see the final product.

And I do look pretty damn good. Even if I feel like shit.

“Thank you, Fannie. You’re amazing.” I squeeze her arm as I slide out of the chair.

“I’ll be in the wings if you need any touch-ups mid-set!” she says as she heads for the door.

“Thank you!” I close the door behind her and lean against it.

Time to get dressed and put on my game face.

So to speak.

My phone buzzes and I smile at the text that just came in.

brIAR: Kick ass and take names! And Frankie sent you this:

She attached a video so I press the little arrow to play it.

It’s of Frankie, playing guitar.

And singing an incredibly off-key version of “Forever in Rewind.”

It’s so sweet it brings tears to my eyes.

But I take a deep breath so Fannie doesn’t kill me for ruining my makeup.

JADE: Tell her the next time I play in L.A., she can come on stage with me.

brIAR: Oh, God, I can’t tell her that—she’ll never stop talking about it!

JADE: LOL Well, then tell her she did an amazing job and almost made me cry.

brIAR: You doing okay?

JADE: I’m fine, gotta go! Thanks for checking in.

I change into fishnet stockings, a denim miniskirt, and a black leather vest that laces up the front. I’m usually a little more modest on stage, but I’ve decided I hate that look. It was fun wearing something sexy up on stage with Lily, so I’m going to do it tonight. If Carrie Underwood can look hotter than the surface of Mars and sell a zillion records, then so can I.

I slide on my favorite red airbrushed cowboy boots and take a few minutes to breathe.

In through my nose.

Out through my mouth.

A soft knock on the door. “Jade? You ready?”

“Two minutes!” I call.

This is it.

I rub my hands down my skirt and roll my neck, hoping to relax a little. I’m not nervous, but I’m tense. It’s all in my head, from the emotion and heartbreak I’ve dealt with this week, but I’ll be fine once I get on stage.

I open my dressing room door, and my two new security guards—thank you, Dash—are waiting to walk me down the hall that leads to the stage.

“Nashville, are you ready for Jade Cantrell?” The announcement over the public address system gets the crowd roaring.

The venue is sold out, and I take a moment to send a little prayer up into the ether to Grandma Louise, Mama, and Daddy. I do it before every show. It’s not a religious thing so much as a habit. Something I’ve done since my very first performance in high school.

The lights go down and I walk out on stage.

“Nashville! I’m home!”

The crowd goes wild as a single spotlight focuses on me.

“Did y’all miss me?” I ask, wrapping my hand around the microphone.

Another round of shouting and cheers.

The band breaks into one of my earliest hits, a song called “Happy Tuesday.” The audience sings along and for a little while, I forget everything.

This is my happy place.

This is where I’m not alone.

This is everything.

We play three songs without a break and then I pause to guzzle some water.

“Oooh, it’s hot in here tonight,” I say. “Are we ready to slow things down?”

I wait for the familiar piano intro but it doesn’t come. The crowd is hooting and whistling, and I glance over my shoulder to see what Eli, my keyboard player, is doing.

And he’s not there.

What the hell?

I gaze into the wings just as a familiar—but very unplanned—melody starts up.

Goose bumps crawl over my skin and my heart skips a beat.

How is this happening?

What is happening?

I whirl to find out what’s going on.

“Hey, Nashville—how are we doing tonight?”

My mind is racing, unable to comprehend what’s happening..

“My name is Royal Ewing, and I’m here to ask you for a special favor…”

Royal?

Royal!

What on earth…

I gape as the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen strides out on stage, my acoustic guitar in his left hand.

The crowd knows who he is, and it’s like an explosion of cheering and catcalls as he walks across the stage like he owns it.

“I need your help tonight,” he continues. “You see, I kind of messed up with my girl, and I need to make it right. Do you think you can help me?”

The audience is on their feet, hands in the air, shouting encouragement and God only knows what else.

“This woman right here—” He points to me and our eyes meet for the first time.

His are warm and filled with myriad emotions. Worry, fear, regret… and hope . There’s no doubt about that. I just don’t understand what’s going on.

“—she’s the best thing to ever happen to me. And we had a disagreement. Totally my fault because I’m kind of a grumpy SOB. But I love her more than life itself. Her talent, her sweet soul, her giant heart—everything about her. So I need you guys to help convince her to forgive me.” He puts the guitar on a stand and then, as I stand there with my mouth open, drops to one knee.

He’s holding something out but I can’t focus through the tears blurring my vision.

The crowd is screaming, “Say yes. Say yes. Say yes!”

“Royal?” I whisper his name, and though I’m sure he can’t hear me over the noise, he sees my lips move.

“I’m right here, baby.”

“I don’t…” I take a step toward him. “What are you?—”

“Say yes. Say yes. Say yes!”

“Marry me,” he says, moving his microphone to the side so he’s using his regular voice. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making the last week up to you. I love you, Jade, and don’t want to spend another minute without you.”

“Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!”

“Royal.” I cover my mouth with my hand, fighting so many emotions.

“Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!”

I want to say no, but I can’t quite bring myself to.

“Will you marry me?” he whispers against my mouth, his lips finding mine.

And I’m helpless to resist.

The crowd is on their feet, yelling and cheering as we kiss. And kiss. And kiss some more.

Then he’s up, sliding a ring on my finger and his arm around my waist.

It sounds like all four thousand people in attendance are screaming at the top of their lungs. I’m still a little shell shocked, but Royal’s next to me, his body warm against mine.

He looks down at me, his eyes filled with something I’ve never seen before.

Is that what love looks like?

I don’t know, and we don’t have time to talk.

“Ready?” he asks.

I’m not ready for any of this. “For what?”

“To play ‘Midnight Snow.’”

“The band doesn’t know it…”

“They do. I might’ve sent them the tape earlier today.” His smile is impish. “If not, you and I can handle it.”

There might be some double meaning in that statement.

“But…” I want to protest. I don’t play a lot of guitar live, but I can.

I will.

For him.

With him.

I unstick, put my performer hat back on and ask the crowd, “Who wants to hear our new single?” They roar before I go on. “It’s called ‘Midnight Snow,’ and it’s coming out on Valentine’s Day.”

Someone brings over two stools and my acoustic, and I sit, Royal beside me.

I gaze over at him, and for the briefest moment, it’s just the two of us.

Back in the cabin.

In the studio.

In his living room.

At Sunday dinner.

The magic is still there and the music is like a physical presence when we’re together, making it almost tangible.

He’s waiting.

The crowd is waiting.

And there’s no doubt what I’m going to do.

I smile, my fingers moving into position easily.

The opening notes fill the venue.

Midnight ,” Royal starts the vocals, his voice deep and rich. “ When there’s no one but you and me, girl. Snowfall, like an avalanche of pearls. Come and show me…”

And I join in.

There’s no time like midnight when it’s snowing

I look in your eyes, baby, you’re glowing

Show me the moon and I’ll give you the stars

Baby, you know me, and this night is ours.