Page 37 of One More Made Up Love Song (Midnight Rush #2)

She surprises me when she throws herself against me, her tiny arms wrapping around my neck.

“Bye, Uncle Freddie.” She runs back to her dad, who runs a hand over her head and smiles at her, then bends down and kisses her on the forehead before handing Eli to his mom, who is standing nearby.

She takes both kids into the kitchen, and Jace makes his way over to me.

He’s wearing a bracelet just like mine, except the beads on his are blue and green. “Her mom would never wear them,” he explains. “You don’t have to keep it on after we leave, but thanks for putting it on for her.”

I reach out and squeeze Jace’s shoulder. “Are you kidding? She just called me Uncle Freddie. I won’t take it off all night.”

Adam and Laney raise their clasped hands, both of them wearing matching bright pink bracelets. “We won’t either,” Laney says.

Jace nods, gratitude making his expression soft. “Thanks, guys.”

When movement across the entryway catches my eye, I turn to see Ivy at the edge of the space, and all the air escapes out of my lungs.

She looks incredible. Beautiful. More beautiful than she’s ever looked before, which is saying something because she always looks amazing.

Jace clears his throat. “Breathe, man,” he says, and I take a stuttering breath, quickly crossing to where she’s standing.

“You look…” My voice cracks, and I swallow, trying again. “Wow. You’re beautiful.”

She offers me a hesitant smile, and I reach forward, threading her fingers through mine.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“I think so. Carina and I had a good cry this morning while we were getting our toes done, then we imagined all the things Daphne would have to say about her sister fake-dating a popstar and walking the red carpet at a movie premiere. It was surprisingly cathartic.”

I lift my eyebrows. “What’s the verdict? Would she have approved?”

“Of what we’re doing?” Ivy says. “Absolutely not. But she would have loved you anyway.”

“I’m sure I would have loved her too.”

She drops my hand and lifts her wrist, showing off a red bracelet just like mine. “I see that Annie gave you your gift.”

“Look at that. We match.”

“I helped her make them this afternoon,” she says. “I hope you like red.”

“I love red,” I say. “Red is perfect.”

She’s perfect.

“Cars are here,” Wayne says from the doorway.

“And they already picked up Leo?” Ivy asks, and Wayne nods.

“He’s in the car and waiting,” he says.

“Good,” Ivy says. “Then we’re right on schedule.”

I wrap an arm around her back and guide her toward the door. “Stop working,” I say under my breath.

“Not until you hire my replacement,” she says, and a knot tightens in the pit of my stomach.

It’s still months away, but hiring Ivy’s replacement is the last thing I want to do—and not because she’s so good at her job. I push the thought out of my mind and force myself to be present, to focus on the night ahead.

Ivy and I climb into the SUV with Leo, while Wayne slides into the front seat, then Laney, Adam, and Jace get into the second car idling behind us.

Ivy is quiet as we drive over to the theater, but halfway there, she reaches over and laces her fingers through mine, giving my hand an almost painful squeeze.

I lean toward her. “Did I tell you about the windmill I ran into the other day?”

She looks at me, brows drawn in confusion. “What?”

I nod. “Yeah. Looked right at me and said, ‘I’m a big fan.’”

“Oh, that’s bad,” Leo says from the other side of Ivy, but it makes her smile, so I have zero regrets.

“Tell me another one,” she says, her voice soft, her hand still gripping mine.

“Okay. How does an elephant hide in a cherry tree?”

“How?” she says.

“It paints its toenails red. Have you ever seen an elephant in a cherry tree?”

She chuckles. “Nope.”

“Amazing how well it works.”

Her shoulders lift in laughter, and satisfaction makes my heart stretch.

“That one is better,” Leo says. “But you still shouldn’t quit your day job.”

“Don’t make him stop,” Ivy says to Leo. “He’s distracting me. And it’s exactly what I need right now.” She takes a deep breath and leans into me, looping her arm through mine. “Thank you,” she says softly, and I lean down and press a kiss to her forehead.

The action feels more like a reflex than a conscious choice, and I pause, holding my breath to see how she’ll react. Did I cross a line? We aren’t exactly pretending here, when everyone in the car already knows the truth.

But Ivy doesn’t flinch. She just snuggles a little closer, relaxing into me as she takes a few slow, even breaths.

I don’t have time to think about what her actions might mean because we’ve just pulled up in front of the theater.

Leo will get out first, then a few minutes later, Ivy and I will follow, giving the photographers lining the red carpet long enough to grab any shots they need.

Once we’ve all walked the carpet, we’ll pose at the end, just the four band members, then I’ll reunite with Ivy, and we’ll head toward the line of press doing interviews.

Kat sent over the names of the journalists hoping to get a few minutes with me, but I’m welcome to stop and talk to anyone else if I’m feeling good.

For me, it will be about whether Ivy feels good.

For years, events like this one have been easy. The spotlight is easy for me. I’m good at thinking on my feet, at putting people at ease. All things that make interviews and red carpets easy.

But tonight, Ivy’s my focus. And that changes things.

Not in a bad way. It feels good to be thinking about something besides my own image. It feels good to feel like I’m living for something bigger. For her comfort. Her well-being.

I don’t know where the thought comes from, but the image of my grandfather pops into my head.

The first time he ever saw me perform with Midnight Rush, the band was back in Seattle, performing in the football stadium of the high school I attended before moving to Nashville.

It was just a few days before my sixteenth birthday, and my grandfather came backstage to see me and give me my birthday present.

To my surprise, the gift was his guitar, the same vintage Gibson I have tattooed on my torso and the one I still play with whenever I have the option. He’d never let me play it before—he taught me to play on something much less expensive—so it was significant that he decided to give it to me then .

“You’re growing up, Freddie,” he said after I opened the case and pulled out the guitar. “Now get out there and make me proud.”

I like to think that if he could, he’d say the same to me tonight. You’re growing up, Freddie.

I hope I’m still making him proud.