Once Upon a Sure Thing (Page 37)

“I speak the truth.”

“Keep speaking it,” I say, and as we head inside, Chloe takes more photos.

Once we check out several books, we wander down Fifth Avenue, passing a Christmas display at a boutique.

“Do you know what you’re getting Miller for Christmas?” she asks.

“Nope. Any ideas?”

“You could always get him Skittles. You could get him a lifetime supply of hot chocolate. Or you could get him a new version of Bananagrams, since he likes all those things.”

“Santa could hire you as an elf.”

“Or you could get him something else. What’s the thing he wants most in the world?” she asks as we stop at a light.

Instantly, I know the answer.

* * *

I do some research to confirm my theory. I want to be certain. I also want to be armed. Like a lawyer, I prep to make a case before the jury of one. I gather my evidence. I call upon my best witnesses.

The first order of business is to visit Mackenzie.

She’s not even surprised when I tell her my idea. “It’s brilliant,” she declares.

But she’s not the only one I need on board.

Fortunately, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from all the books I’ve narrated, it’s that a heroine must line up her troops. We head across town to Murray Hill—Chloe, Mackenzie, and me. Campbell is teaching a violin lesson, but Samantha is home. She’s making cherry jam cookies for her Instagram show, and they smell mouthwateringly good.

I tell her my idea.

She claps and practically bounces to the ceiling, like a spring-loaded Tigger.

Then we execute the plan, and if this works, there’s a certain person who’s going to be out of his mind with happiness tomorrow night.

* * *

When I kiss Chloe goodnight, she’s still a little giddy from our secret plans. “I love your idea, Ally. Will you text me as soon as it happens? Unless you’ve changed your mind and I can come to the show?”

“Sorry, Monkey. You’ll have fun at Hailey’s. I’ll text you, though, as soon as it happens.”

She hugs me, and I feel a sense of peace. I can’t save her from the world, but I can make sure her world with me is safe.

I’ve decided to stop worrying about my ability to take care of her. I’m doing a fierce and fabulous job as her parent.

And nothing and no one will ever change that.

Chapter 33

Miller

At the club the next night, I smooth a hand over my T-shirt in front of the mirror in the men’s room.

“Shoulda worn a sweet suit, man,” Jackson says, sweeping his eyes over me.

“I’m a T-shirt kind of guy.”

“I know, but sometimes you need to break out the swank. A silver blazer and sleek black pants.”

“I would think that’d make it obvious. I want some subtlety.”

“Fair enough. You are one subtle rocker, then, and you rock a T-shirt.”

He’s seventeen so he shouldn’t be here, but the owner made an exception for his documentary, and has required Jackson to wear a plastic bracelet so no one serves him as he shoots videos.

I looked down at my outfit. Jeans, motorcycle boots, and a T-shirt. It’s how I dress. I want to be myself. I want to be the guy that I hope Ally wants.

When she arrives, she’s Honey Lavender. Blonde glam wig. Luscious top. Pouty lips and dark eyes.

But it didn’t take her dressing as Honey for me to fall in love with her. It took her convincing me to sing with her. It took getting close to her like that to make me realize she’s the one I’ve wanted all along.

I feel like I’ve drunk ten cups of coffee, and I don’t like the stuff. But I’m amped up and jittery, hoping she wants all the same things I do. Hoping I’m not wrong in thinking she might.

As we head to the stage, I whisper, “We have a crowd.”

She nods nervously, wringing her hands.

“Hey,” I say softly, reaching for her arm. “It’s going to be great.”

“It is,” she says, as if she’s reassuring herself.

We head onstage, and I introduce us quickly. “I’m Miller Hart and this is Ally Zimmerman, and together we’re Hot Stuff. And this is our first number.”

We slide into our original tune, “Maybe.” We sing it like we did at the studio, like it’s only us. We sing like Virtue and Moir skate, like we want each other. Based on the cheers and hollers, the audience likes us as much here as they do online, and I’m stoked.

My eyes take a most enjoyable stroll up and down Ally’s body, savoring the chance to drink her in. I stop at her waist, and blink—she wasn’t wearing that before. The red polka-dot ribbon I tied her up with the other night is playing the role of a belt.

Kill me now.

I move closer and wrap a hand around her hip, fingering the silky fabric of the ribbon. Tugging her near to me, I brush my lips along her neck, and the audience goes crazy. They love how we are together.

I love how we are together.

And I hope to heaven and back that she feels all the same things. I pray that the way she trembles in my arms isn’t simply because the song is sexy, but because we are sexy together.

And because we should be together.

As soon as the song nears the end, I’m ready to lay out my heart. To tell her before the whole crowd that I want to go all in. I want her and Chloe, a package deal. All strings attached. I want rules and expectations. She doesn’t think friends with benefits is a good idea, and neither do I. I want more, and by showing her this way, by declaring it in front of the world, I hope she sees that I’m a risk worth taking. That we’re more than benefits.

We’re a sure thing.

But when the music ends, she walks offstage.

Chapter 34

Ally

My heart pounds in my throat. Nerves speed through the freeways of my body as I dart from the stage like a runaway singer. Mackenzie waits for me in the wings and takes my hand. Her smile is radiant.

“Did Miller look shocked?” I ask.

“Completely.”

“And what about . . .?”

“He feels great. I think seeing Miller sing with you has dredged up memories of how good it can be when you find your perfect singing partner. He was missing this kind of chance. You’ve given it to him.”

My heart beats a million miles an hour, and I want so badly for Miller to understand that I’m not walking away from the band.

Even though I am.

What I’m really doing is giving him his heart’s true desire.

When I watched the video from the coffee shop, and the one from the recording studio earlier in the week, and then my mental replay of how the brothers sang together at Campbell’s apartment, I knew that this is what Miller truly wants.

Mackenzie and I reach the dance floor in seconds, as Campbell strides onto the stage. Taking my place, he strums the most familiar opening chords in the history of the Heartbreakers.

Miller’s smile isn’t the toothpaste variety now, and it’s not the naughty one I’ve seen after-hours. It’s the blue sky on a crystal-clear afternoon. His face is a thousand sunny days.

I practically jump for joy, loving that the happiest guy I’ve ever known is now even happier.

My own smile spreads to the moon and back as I cheer so loud my voice will be hoarse tomorrow. I’m not alone. Everyone is shouting and screaming. This is what it means when a crowd goes wild.

They might have liked Miller and me. But this is true love. This is when music is magic and a love that lasts through all the years.