Page 111 of What He Never Knew

“Forty years old,” I mused, fingertips wrapping gently in the tendrils of his hair as I marveled at every feature of the man who held me.

“Old man status.”

“Hottest old man I’ve ever seen,” I argued, pressing my lips to his. “And thank God you’remyold man.”

He shook his head, but kissed me anyway, not bothering to argue — which was smart of him, since we both knew who would win.

“Alright, I need to warm up,” I said, breaking our kiss but holding him still in my arms. “Is Mom here yet?”

Reese nodded. “She is. And Randall and Betty, too. I just wanted to come back to wish you luck before we grab our seats.”

“Is it weird that I’m more nervous to play for you four than I am for anyone else?”

He chuckled. “You could stand up there and just wave the whole time and we’d still give you a standing ovation.”

A flutter of butterflies took flight in my stomach, and suddenly, though I knew I needed to warm up, I didn’t want Reese to leave.

“And Rojo?” I asked, trying to make the conversation last.

He smirked. “I took her on a long nice walk in the park before we left, and the walker is going to check on her in a few hours so we can go out after.”

“I wish dogs were allowed at Carnegie.”

“She’d probably run up on stage so she could curl up near your feet the way she does at home.”

I smiled, heart bursting as I looked at him — my husband. We had a family. We had a past, and a present, and a future.

We had each other.

“See you out there?” I asked, pressing up onto my toes to kiss him one last time.

“I’ll be the loud one in the front row.”

And I knew it to be true, without a single doubt in my mind. He wouldn’t just be loud, he’d be the loudest.He would be there after the show, whether I crushed it or completely bombed. Forever my number-one fan.

Forever my number one. Period.

And I still didn’t understand it, how we had somehow found each other in a world with billions of people, billions of lost, searching souls, trying to find the missing piece. Somehow, against all odds, we had come together. We had fought the demons of our past, and faced the challenges of our future — together. We had a million reasons why we shouldn’t have worked, and yet, wedid. We just did.

Maybe I would never understand it fully, I realized, as my husband smiled at me over his shoulder, closing the door behind him and leaving me alone in my dressing room. Maybe I would never see the full map, the roads that had led us to each other, the one road we traveled together now — as a team, as a unit.

But that was okay.

I didn’t need to see the plan, didn’t need insurance of any kind to know that this was it. Reese wasn’t just my for now. He wasn’t just a lesson, or a role played in my life when I needed someone to help me walk through the darkness.

He was my forever.

And what a beautiful forever it was.

I couldn’t stop smiling as I warmed up my wrists, my hands, my fingers, playing a little of the songs I knew and loved on the piano set up in my dressing room. When the twenty-minute warning was given, my hands started playing the song I’d written for Reese, and I smiled when the little eggplant-sized human in my belly danced with joy at the sound.

“You like that one, huh?” I asked, smiling as I finished the melody. Then, I stood, smoothing my hands over my dress as I faced the mirror one last time.

And for the first time that night, I saw it.

It reallywasme — the hair, the skin, the wide eyes, the long, silky black dress, the dazzling crystal shoes. It was me, standing backstage at Carnegie Hall. It was me, reaching up to hold the crystal that hung around my neck.

“I feel you here,” I whispered. “I hope you’re as proud as I am.”