Page 98 of Six Ways to Write a Love Letter
Her voice was clear and bright. “This song changed a lot, over the course of writing it. It started as just a little sketch I was working on, and then I met someone who helped me turn it into something more powerful. Something better,” she said. Behind her, Michael was changing guitars, David was switching from one keyboard to a baby grand piano. Now. It was time.
Remy slipped onstage without ceremony; Jason looked up at him with a quick smile. He rose without a word and gave Remy the seat at the drum set—like they’d discussed via messages in the weeks before. It was a risky move on Jason’s part, and Remy silently thanked David and Michael for encouraging him to make it.
Remy’s heart lurched as he sat in the seat that felt so familiar, despite the fact it was a different setup than the one he’d toured with. Still—being there, behind Vivi, listening to her talk…his stomach twisted, hard enough that he bent over a little from the nerves.
“Hang in there, kid,” David whispered and grinned at him. Remy nodded weakly.
Vivi kept talking in her slow, thought-out voice, the audience clinging to each and every word. “It’s what I’ve always called a golden song—because no matter how we changed it, what we turned it into, it always seemed to work. So the real trouble with this piece was figuring outwhichstory to tell with it. Something about a boy?” The audience tittered; Vivi paused to let them finish. “Or something about a friend? Something about falling in love with the perfect person? In the end, it ended up being about all those things. It ended up being aboutlosingall those things.”
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.He went over the music in his head—he’d never once in his life been so nervous for a performance and wasn’t prepared for what would happen if he forgot something.
“So, anyway,” Vivi said, reaching to take hold of a new, differently tuned guitar from the assistant standing just off to her left. “This is from my upcoming album, and it’s called ‘Maybe It’s Me.’”
Remy let his sticks hover over the drum set and took a long, deep breath—he had to start, or she’d turn around and see him before the song began. Michael looked over at him, waiting for the cue, waiting for the intro—for the intro to the old version of the song. The version of the song that wasn’t about losing anything.
The version he and Vivi had recorded in Spain, when they were in love but didn’t know it, when the song was about findingthe one. When the song was just as golden but far more perfect.
Remy clicked his sticks together to count off, a tempo far too fast for the newest version of the song. His eyes slid over for a millisecond to Celeste and Val, standing just off the stage, both grinning like fools, with confidence Remy didn’t have. One, two, three clicks, and he launched into the song.
Vivi spun around, alarmed, hair whipping around her face like a halo, blue eyes landing on Michael. In slow motion, they continued across the stage, to David, to—
To Remy.
Her eyes fell on him as he played the opening lick over and over, David and Michael following his lead. Vivi’s lips parted, her eyebrows knitted, her chest wobbled with a sharp breath.
She didn’t look away. Neither did he. His hands kept moving, playing the lick, kept drumming like he’d been trained to do. He barely realized it, though; he was too busy watching her, waiting to see what she’d do, watching her eyes go watery and her lips curve into the smallest, quivering smile.
She’d smiled. She was smiling.
He exhaled and nearly missed the beat when he smiled back. Vivi pressed her lips together, spun back around, and brought her pick down to the guitar, sliding right into the song like they’d rehearsed it this way. Vivi sang loud, confident, certain, despite the fact her voice shook on the big notes, despite the fact her breath control was all over the place, despite the fact Remy could feel her fighting not to rush the song. The audience lit up, the room lit up, the world lit up golden.
They soared through the bridge, David and Michael looking delighted with themselves, Remy desperate to hold himself together, Vivi glowing. When they ran into the last few moments of the song, Remy found himself fighting the urge to rise, to go to her, unsure what he should do—he’d prepared for playing the music but for nothing beyond that. Vivi held the last note long, let the guitar fade out, let the audience rise in applause—
Remy dropped the drumsticks and stood, because if he sat at the drum stool a moment longer, he might dissolve. He didn’t go to her, though—he wasn’t sure if he could step toward her, if he could move, what he should do—
Vivi turned around. Her cheeks were still wet, her lips pressed together, her eyes apologetic and hopeful, forcing Remy to smile. She pushed the guitar over her shoulder and walked toward him, heels clicking along the stage, louder than the applause, louder than Remy’s heart. He scooted around the drum set, waiting for her to reach him, trying to anticipate what she might say—that she’d talk to him after the show, that she was happy to see him, that she needed to finish this set—
Vivi grabbed his hand, and it felt like she was grabbing his heart.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” she answered, voice shaky. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“I don’t know if you mean that as a good or bad thing,” he said, trying not to hold her hand back too tightly, trying not to relish the way it felt to have her so close to him again. The audience was still applauding, the lights felt hotter than before, Remy could feel everyone staring at them.
Vivi didn’t look back. She was facing him and the black curtain behind him, like the crowd wasn’t there at all. She swallowed and stepped closer, and before Remy prepared himself for it, she slid her hand up his arm and pulled his face closer to hers.
He thought of so many things to say.I love you. I’ve missed you. Can we try this again? One more time? Can we—
She kissed him. She did it like no one was watching—and there, under the lights and cameras and gazes, he kissed her back like everyone in the world was.
Both were true.
Neither mattered.
Yes, it’s me. It’s you. It’s us.
Vivi Swan > Remy Young
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>Vivi’s New Man
Vivi’s got a secret weapon on her tour—producer-slash-drummer Remy Young, formerly of indie band Quiet Coyote. Rumor is that the two have been spending a lot of time on Vivi’s tour bus lately, but there’s no need…
>Vivi Swan and Producer in the House
Vivi Swan and new producer-slash-tour-drummer Remy Young (of Quiet Coyote fame) stopped by Casa Oro studios in Madrid yesterday morning. Sources say they were inside for approximately four hours, and recorded a single…
>Another One Bites the Dust
Stars—they’re just like us! Except when they break up, they do it in Helsinki, while in the middle of a massive world arena tour. Despite insisting just a few weeks ago that the two were making vacation plans for the summer…
>Romance Isn’t So Dead
Remy Young surprised Vivi Swan by playing drums for her Grammy Museum performance of their cowritten tune, “Maybe It’s Me.” Rumors—some not so sweet ones—have swirled about these two, but now it’s pretty clear: Vivi Swan and Remy Young are an item, and an adorable one at that…
>Vivi Sporting New Bling
Is that an engagement ring!? Vivi Swan wouldn’t say, but given the smile our cameras caught, we’re going to guess that the answer is YES—it looks like Vivi Swan and Remy Young are engaged! The two met while…