I follow him across the apartment lobby to the elevator, smoothing my hands over my belly as we ride it up.
There’s no way Bryon’s going to be up here, though, surely…
He’s at a charity concert out of town. He left early this morning – that must’ve been when he left the note with Penny – and he’s not going to be home until this evening.
Home.
The word sounds so right, so perfect.
The elevator doors open to show a helicopter sitting in the middle of the rooftop. I stare at it for a long time, trying to figure out what’s going on.
“Mr. Blaze wanted me to tell you that all bad things are made out of clay. He said you’d know what it meant. As proof that this has really been arranged by him.”
I giggle at the reference. He’s talking about Clay, and of course, some random stranger would have no idea what happened between us.
“Who else would have arranged it?” I ask the man, but I don’t wait for an answer. “I’m guessing, in typical Aaron fashion, he’s asked you not to tell me where we’re going.”
The man’s lips twitch. “That’s correct, ma’am. Shall we?”
He gestures toward the helicopter.
I stare at it, a smile of my own turning my lips upward.
“Aaron, what the heck have you got planned?”
The helicopter surges over the city, the chug-chug-chug of the blades loud even through my headset. I grip onto the handhold and stare at the city as it recedes below us, feeling like my stomach is about to drop away. I’ve never been in a plane before, let alone a helicopter.
It's astounding, despite the feeling in my stomach. And really, I think that might have more to do with anticipation than anything else.
The city looks so small from up here, as though reminding me that my problems are going to be just as small now that I’ve got my man looking out for me. I’ll never have to feel like a prisoner of my circumstances again.
Aaron has changed everything.
Suddenly, the helicopter starts to descend into a field on the outskirts of the city. The day is bright and warm for this time of year, the grass a verdant green. We move past the field, to a large landing pad on the edge of a road, a car with tinted windows waiting at the edge of the pad.
I hold on as the helicopter lands, and then wait as the pilot climbs out and walks around to the door, opening it for me.
“Mr. Blaze is waiting, ma’am,” he says, speaking respectfully, his eyes averted.
I almost laugh when I think about Aaron giving the men his instructions.
Don’t look at her in any way. Don’t even think about it. I’ll tear you to pieces if you do.
Of course, I’m sure he didn’t phrase it quite like that. But I know that’s what he was thinking.
I walk over to the car and slide into the back, and then we’re moving away from the landing pad and joining the road. I lay my forehead against the window, watching the fields pass us by, wondering where the heck he’s taking me.
And then it hits me.
The concert venue is outside the city, at a smaller theater near the children’s hospital, the one to which Aaron and his bandmates are donating. They arranged to have it close so that some of the older kids – the ones strong enough – and staff members could attend.
I’m right.
Ten minutes later, the car pulls up at the back of a theater. A red carpet has been laid on the floor, between the car and the entrance.
I step from the car, my mind throwing up dozens of possibilities, settling on one in particular. I wish I’d changed out of my waitress uniform, but it doesn’t matter, not truthfully.
The only thing that matters is how badly, how hungrily I wish I’m right.
Is this what I think it is, what I hope it is?
I follow the carpet and push the door open, walking down the hallway. The path leads me backstage. The music grows louder the closer I get. Aaron’s husky voice beckons me to him, the same way it has ever since my crush started.
Suddenly, I’m standing at the edge of the stage, just like when he turned and saw me for the first time. When our lives changed forever.
Aaron rages up and down the stage, pounding his chest as he sings about the woman he could never find, the love he knows he doesn’t deserve.
When he sees me, he stops mid-song.
He must’ve arranged it with his bandmates because they don’t hesitate. They immediately stop playing.
Aaron is wearing a tight white shirt, showing off his muscular tattooed arms, his iron-gray hair spiky with sweat. He looks like a beast who’s just been in a fight.
But we’re done fighting.
We’ve won our future.