Page 45 of Last Chorus (A Perfect Song Duet #2)
epilogue
EVANGELINE
ONE YEAR LATER
“ D id everyone have fun tonight?”
The roar that answers me raises the hairs on my body and buzzes beneath my skin. I look across the stage at Lily, who grins back from behind her DJ deck.
“I think that’s a yes,” I tell her.
She leans toward her mic and says with mock seriousness, “I’m not convinced. Let’s try that again. Horizon Fest, did you have fun tonight? ”
The volume of sound almost doubles, drowning out my laughter and filling me with effervescent joy. The stage lights flash, purple and blue beams obscuring the stars overhead and strobing across a sea of twenty-five thousand screaming faces.
A subtle, atmospheric beat begins courtesy of Lily.
“You’ve been amazing,” I tell the crowd. “We have one last song for you. It’s a new one you might have heard recently.”
I pluck a series of chords on my guitar, and the crowd responds immediately to the melody of our newest single’s chorus.
Lily’s beat silences abruptly, the light display freezing.
“Wait a sec,” she says. “Aren’t we missing something?”
I look offstage, my heart skipping when I see Wilder already watching me.
“You’re absolutely right. Hey, Night Theory, are you guys too tired from your set last night or can you help us out?”
The crowd goes berserk as the men walk onstage. Wilder angles for me, Zander beelines for the baby grand piano, and Jax takes a seat behind my cello. Eddie walks out last and wanders in exaggerated circles until Lily offers him a set of maracas.
“I handle the beats on this stage,” she says sweetly.
As the crowd laughs and screams, Wilder’s hand slides across the bare, sweaty skin of my lower back. When his fingers clench on my hip with dark promise, my small, involuntary gasp is amplified. Which, naturally, the crowd loves .
Wilder’s soft chuckle floats around the amphitheater, followed by low words that drip suggestion.
“I’m always available to help you, Evangeline.”
Catcalls fill our ears as I roll my eyes. “Flirt with me later. We have a song to sing.”
“Actually, there’s something I have to do first. It’ll just take a minute.”
My lips part in shock as he steps back. He looks offstage and nods at someone I can’t see.
“What’s going on?” My question falls flat, the mic in front of me having been turned off remotely.
Lily’s mic, however, is still on. She says lightly, “No problem, Wilder. Take all the time you need.”
I whip around to see her grinning at me. Quick glances confirm that Jax, Eddie, and Zander wear similar expressions of conspiratorial glee.
My heart stampedes.
My breaths turn shallow.
I spin back toward Wilder right as the stage lights go out completely. Momentarily disoriented, I seek the ever present glow of phones in the crowd.
But what I see isn’t an ocean of bobbing, tiny white dots anymore. Floating on the surface are hundreds, possibly thousands of bright blue LED lights. They’re organized into wavy, imperfect lines. Creating letters. Forming two words.
M-A-R-R-Y
M-E
The crowd begins to chant.
“Say. Yes. Say. Yes.”
Sparkles line the edges of my vision, then grow brighter. It takes me a second to realize the stage lights are slowly rising. My body feels heavy, unusually clumsy as I turn fast, almost taking out the mic stand with the headstock of my guitar.
Wilder is down on one knee.
I absorb him in sequence, like dramatic notes of an incomparable song. Messy dark hair, strands dancing in the wind from a nearby fan. Golden, inked skin. My sunrise smile, one dimple deeper than the other. Enchanted forest eyes radiating hope and love.
My gaze finally falls to his uplifted hand and the glittering ring pinched between two fingers.
The chanting is so loud he has to shout. “Evangeline Marie Sullivan, my Fairy and muse forever, will you marry me? ”
I’m already nodding—laughing and crying—as I fumble to unfasten the strap of my guitar from its pins. Thankfully, Eddie steps forward to help and in seconds I’m free.
I launch at Wilder, catching him as he starts to rise and propelling us both to the ground. He shakes with laughter beneath me. Squeezes me tightly. Lifts my hand, slips the perfectly sized ring on my finger, then grabs my face for a kiss.
“Aww,” coos Lily. “I think that’s a yes!”
A mighty wave of sound crests and crashes atop us. Swirls and cocoons us. I savor the remains of Wilder’s smile. Drink our mingled tears. Revel in the harmony of the small, perfect space we create in the universe.
“I love you,” I mumble against his lips.
I feel rather than hear his hum of satisfaction. His hold shifts, hands lowering to my hips as his tongue dips inside my mouth.
“Hey, now!” hollers Zander. “This isn’t that kind of show.”
Wilder chuckles and gives me one last kiss. Then he sits up, bringing me with him. I’m grateful when he does most of the work getting us back to our feet.
Hands cupping my shoulders, his eyes twinkle down at me.
He asks, “Will you sing with me? ”
The nearby mic is back on, projecting his question and my answer: “Always.”
He retrieves my guitar from Eddie, and I cradle the comforting weight as he reattaches the strap. When the instrument is secure, I quickly wipe my eyes, then step back into position with a small, ecstatic laugh.
Over deafening cheers, I say, “I think it’s safe to assume I’ll never forget tonight. Thank you all for being a part of it.”
The audible strain in my voice sends my barely recovered pulse racing anew. Swallowing heavily, I look imploringly at Wilder. I’m supposed to introduce the song, but I need a minute if I have any hopes of doing it justice. And my emotional overwhelm is his fault, anyway.
Wilder reads the request in my eyes and doesn’t hesitate, grabbing my reaching hand and stepping up to the mic.
As he speaks, I slow my breathing and stretch out my neck and shoulders.
The last few minutes go into a box in my head—a temporary one that I’ll gladly revisit when we’re alone.
When I can break down in the privacy of our trailer.
Actually look at the ring he put on me. Let him hold me while I cry through the endorphin crash.
And maybe yell at him a little for blindsiding me before tearing off his clothes .
“Horizon Fest, your energy is fucking nuts. I love it. I want to say a quick thank you to my blue-light volunteers. You guys came through for me in a big way. I’ll be forever grateful. Unfortunately, you’re still not invited to the wedding.”
Laughter and whistles float toward the stars. The joyous sounds are a magic spell on my nervous system, leveling out my energy and relaxing my throat. With a sigh of relief, I squeeze Wilder’s fingers to let him know I’m good to go. He squeezes me back, and another shot of calm hits my bloodstream.
“Eva and I wrote this next song together. It’s dedicated to two amazing, brave women who happen to be here with us tonight. Everyone say hello to Poppy Cole and Kendra Monroe!”
The screens around the stage switch to a crowd view, zooming in on the VIP section where Kendra, her wife, and their twins are screaming and jumping. Next to them stands Poppy, casually dressed and makeup-free. Her response is genuine but more subdued, a smile and a small wave.
Wilder winks at me, then releases my hand and shifts into position for backup vocals. The stage lights dim, and the multi-tonal roar of the crowd tapers to an expectant thrum.
As I make a final adjustment to the pedals at my feet, Jax plays a few spine-tingling scales on the cello, and Zander teases the song’s piano intro. Not to be excluded, Eddie shakes a maraca near his brother’s microphone.
I glance over at Lily. We share a giddy smile. As I turn back around, a deep breath creates space in my lungs, in my heart. I gaze out at the crowd, a writhing sea of light and shadow.
Wilder’s fingers graze my back.
“Thanks again, Horizon Fest. We’re Glow, these guys are Night Theory, and this song is ‘ Accidental Grace.’”