“That’s still not an excuse.”
“Fine. Then I forgive you.” He turns in his chair and faces me. “You’re here now. You had to choose between Amelia and me and your recording contract. You chose us. That, right there, tells me everything I need to know. If we’re not what you want anymore…”
“Not want you? Are you kidding me? You’re all I want. You and Amelia have given me more joy than any recording contract ever could.”
Ryder takes my hand in his. “Then don’t leave us, and by that, I don’t mean stay here in Virginia Beach. We’ll follow you wherever you go. You are our home.”
“I was going to say the same thing.”
EPILOGUE
Ember
One year later….
“Showtime, Ember,” Rick’s voice calls out.
Rick Romano is the owner of the Rusty Nail, a good friend, and my manager.
I take one last glance down at my phone and the text message Ryder just sent, apologizing for being late and telling me he’ll be here as soon as he can.
“It’s just, he’s never late,” I tell Rick, who’s ushering me to the stage.
“I’m sure he hates that he is this time, but he’ll be here. You know he wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world.”
He’s right.
It’s been a little over a year since I walked away from my recording contract—the one Devlin helped me get. I was sure my career was over, and I was okay with that. During my time in Virginia Beach, I realized what was important—family. Ryder and Amelia more than fit that bill for me. They were where I wanted to be.
Ryder had different ideas. He not only insisted that we move to Nashville, he and Rick worked tirelessly trying to arrange meetings with record execs. Relentless in their pursuit, they did it. They found me a record company that understood my needs and let me be who I needed to be—on stage and off. While I may not be Amelia’s biological mother, in my heart, I’m her mom, and she’s my little girl. She comes first.
Inhaling deeply, I blow out a breath before I step on stage.
“Hello, Nashville,” I shout.
The crowd, the cheers, the energy, all at levels I never imagined. This small-town girl singing her heart out never imagined making it to the big leagues.
Certainly not with a man like Ryder by my side.
“One, two, a one, two, three, four….”
I belt out the words to the song that is dedicated to that very man. Every song is. He’s the thing romance novels are made of, love songs are written about, and…
My mind goes blank when out of the corner of my eye, I see Ryder step onto the stage. I struggle to recall the next line of the song, my eyes and attention on him, not on the music like it should be.
He heads straight to me.
What the hell is he doing?
The band stops in the background, but I’m on autopilot. The words keep spilling into the microphone until he’s standing inches from me.
“What are you doing?” I hiss.
“Surprising you.”
An “aw” falls over the crowd.
“This isn’t a good time.”