Rayna

She was surprised Deacon had been able to get her a slot on the Bluebird's Sunday spotlight. She knew that usually took multiple open mic spots to get, which she'd never done, but he'd just told her he'd pulled a few strings. He knew people all over town and as one of the top Nashville songwriters he had some pull. He'd sent in her demo and told her they'd been impressed with her. Still, she was nervous as she stood in the bedroom looking at the clothes she'd picked out, hanging on the back of the closet door. She knew she'd probably change her mind at least 3 times before Sunday. Even though she'd performed at quite a few places in the 2 weeks she and Deacon had been back in Nashville, this was the one she'd been most focused on. The Bluebird. The mecca. For a new performer, she thought the Bluebird had to be the most sought after place to be. You never knew when a label head or an A&R executive or someone in the talent world would be in the audience and it could change someone's life. She knew the odds were small, but it made her nervous all the same.

She heard the front door open and close and ran out of the bedroom and down the hall into the living room. Deacon had just walked in with coffee and a bag. "Hey, babe," she said, smiling. She walked over and took the bag from him.

He smiled and gave her a quick kiss. "Hey yourself." He followed her as she headed for the kitchen and then they sat at the kitchen table. She took her coffee and, taking the lid off, added sugar, then stirred it with a coffee stirrer. She put napkins on the table in front of them and opened the bag, taking out a chocolate glazed donut, her favorite.

"Thanks for the donut," she said, nibbling at it.

"Sweet for my sweet," he said. She grinned.

"I can't decide what to wear for the Bluebird," she said.

He laughed a little. "That's not for 2 days. You got a show tonight, remember?"

She did remember. It was a new talent night at the Exit/In and while she was excited, it didn't have the same mystique as the Bluebird. "I know, but you know, it's the Bluebird. I want everything to be perfect." She sighed. "I just want to do well. I want to make you glad you brought me here, even though I know you didn't really want to come."

He frowned a little, then reached for her hand. "Rayna, I believe in you. I think you can be great. You need to believe in yourself though. If you don't, well, it's just that's what's gonna make this happen. Knowing you can do this and believing it's gonna happen. Be fearless. Go after it."

She sighed. "You're right. I guess I've just been told no so often that it's hard."

"But you got your own music now, baby. You got songs you've written, songs we've written, and there's more of that. You're finding your voice."

She looked at him and asked him the question she'd been afraid to ask. "What happens if it does work out? Will you go back to the beach?"

He looked away. "I don't know." He looked back at her, and she saw uncertainty in his eyes. "For now, I'm here. Until we see where this goes, I'm here."

"Do you think we'll know before we leave?"

"Maybe. Or maybe not. But people will have heard you sing and heard your songs and they can find you." He breathed out. "Let's get out of here. Stop thinking about all this."

"Where would we go?"

He smiled. "I know a place."


30 minutes later they were on the road, heading north on Highway 65. He had told her where they were going wasn't far, but they'd left the city limits of Nashville behind and were headed into Sumner County, going towards the state line. "Don't forget I've got that show tonight," she said, a little worried.

He looked over at her and smiled. "Don't worry. We'll be back in plenty of time."

They took the first exit after they crossed over the state line and then a couple miles down the road turned onto a dirt and gravel road that wound around in the woods. Finally he took a gravel drive that dumped them practically in a lake. Next to it was a rather shabby looking building that she could only describe as a cabin. Like the cabins at the summer camp she and Tandy went to when they were growing up, except those cabins were much nicer. Maybe it was really more of a shack. He pulled to a stop. "Where are we?" she asked.

He opened his door. "Come on. I'll show you."

She hesitantly opened her door and got out, walking around the front of the truck to join him. He took her hand and led her up the steps. "Is this yours?" she asked.

"Nah. It belongs to one of the guys I write with. Every now and again we'd come up here to write. It's quiet and that helps." He reached above the door frame and pulled down a key which he used to open the door. When he did, he stood aside so she could walk in.

She looked around and found that it wasn't much more than a one-room structure. It had a kitchenette against the back wall and there was a door that she guessed led to a bathroom. The windows were small so there wasn't a lot of light inside. It had a faintly musty smell that suggested it had been empty for a while. The furniture was shabby but seemed in decent shape and was exactly what she would have expected for songwriters to be comfortable in. There was a fireplace next to the front door. Deacon turned on a light and she could see that it had a well-worn look to it. There was a coffeemaker on the counter in the kitchenette and a well-stocked bar in one of the back corners. "Will your friend mind that we let ourselves in?" she asked.

"He don't come here often. I think sometimes he forgets it's even here. It belonged to his dad, and he used it as a hunting and fishing shack. There was some furniture and bunkbeds in it back then. Mike took out the bunkbeds and added more furniture. It wasn't really a place to stay for long. No heat or air conditioning, just the fireplace."

She walked around the room, checking it out. When she got to the bar, she saw lots of both full and partially full bottles. Whiskey, gin, scotch. "Looks like a fair amount of drinking could happen here," she said.

He nodded. "That too." He walked over to the bar and picked up one of the half-full bottles of whiskey. "And someone who was drunk didn't mind passing out in a place that was either too hot or too cold." He put the bottle down. "Truth be told, I stayed here a time or two. Maybe more than that." He turned and walked towards one of the windows.

She walked up behind him and put her hand on his back. "We've all got stuff," she said quietly. "And that's not you anymore, right?"

He looked at her and smiled briefly. "Right."

"So, what are we gonna do here?"

He breathed in deeply. "How about we sit outside for a bit? Eat those sandwiches we brought. Maybe we get some inspiration to write."

She smiled. "Sounds good." He walked to the front door and opened it, letting her walk out onto the small porch. They sat on the top step, looking out over the lake. It became obvious that they wouldn't be able to stay out there long, as it wasn't truly warm enough for that, but she felt like it cleared her head. When they went back inside, he found a couple of blankets that they wrapped around themselves while they finished their lunch and then found some paper and a pencil and jotted down some song ideas.


It felt good to be wrapped up in his arms and the blankets. It definitely was chilly inside the little cabin, but he didn't want to start a fire and then have to put it out. She thought more about what he'd said about her being fearless and believing in herself. Sometimes she felt like he was a little annoyed that she wasn't more confident. She didn't think he'd give up on her, but she knew she couldn't depend on him forever. And maybe he was right. She didn't have a lot of confidence in herself because of all the failures she'd had. She had more to offer now, though. The songs they'd written, ones she'd had a large hand in crafting. She did believe that her path to success – if there was going to be one – was through her own music. It was the one thing he'd taught her that she believed in.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"I don't know. Hold on." He reached under the blanket and pulled out his phone. He'd told her there was no cell service but they could still see what time it was. "About 3," he said. "We should probably get going. We got plenty of time but no sense pushing it."

They pushed off the blankets and she shivered when the cold hit her body. They stood up and she folded the blankets, laying them neatly on the couch. He gathered up the remains of their lunch and put them in the bag they'd been in. They put on their jackets and headed out onto the porch. He locked up and put the key back above the door. He walked her around to the passenger door and opened it, letting her jump in. He tossed the bag behind the seat and then closed the door. Then he jogged around to the driver's side and got in, turning the ignition and letting the heat build up a bit.

"You feeling better?" he asked.

She smiled. "My head's a lot clearer." She put her hand on his arm. "Thanks for bringing me. I think I just needed some time away."


She stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, brushing her hair, lost in thought. She was excited about the show at the Exit/In, but she couldn't help but think back to the trip to the little cabin in the woods. She'd felt such a sense of peace, unlike anything she'd felt since she'd walked along the beach and met Deacon. He'd been such a safe place for her, a soft spot to land, and it had been a comfort. She'd felt lost and unsure of her next move and now here she was, back in Nashville, with him, and trying to find her way.

"Baby, you ready?" Deacon called out from the living room.

She snapped out of her thoughts. "I'm coming," she called back. She ran her fingers through her hair and took a deep breath. Then she turned off the bathroom light and walked out to the living room.


Deacon had run out to get the truck, since it had started to rain while they were inside the club. She waited, jamming her hands into her jacket. One hand touched a piece of paper and she pulled it out, frowning. She moved slightly so she could catch the light and read words written in her hand, words she'd written down that afternoon. You came along in the nick of time, like a boat in a storm, like one star in the sky, and everything changed, my world slowed, when you came along. She shivered, not from the cold but from the feeling this was her next song. She couldn't wait to show it to Deacon and see what they could do with it.

Deacon

He'd been cautious about reaching out to most of his old friends, old co-writers. He'd spent a couple days with guys he'd written with on a regular basis when he'd first gotten to town, but he'd been vague about committing any time since then. He'd found himself thinking more about what had happened with Vince, his own demons, and he didn't like it. He was there for Rayna, but he also couldn't deny he was counting the days until they could leave.

He had run into an old friend – more like an acquaintance – when he'd gone out to get coffee and breakfast for himself and Rayna. Frankie Gray was someone he'd written with occasionally but had not been one of his regular co-writers. Frankie had been more interested in a performing career, as were most people who came to town. But he'd floated around his circle of acquaintances and had been friends of a sort with Vince, a drinking buddy as much as anything. Frankie was a heavy drinker, maybe even more than Vince was, and it had interfered with his ability to get a record deal. He was unreliable, undependable, and had a bad temper. In some ways Frankie had reminded him of his own father and he'd never gotten super close to him because of that. He hadn't seen Frankie in a long time, even dating back to his days in Nashville, so at first he'd not recognized him.

"Deacon! Deacon Claybourne!" He looked around and then his eyes landed on a guy who was smiling in his direction. He squinted just a bit and then widened his eyes when he recognized him. If anything, he thought Frankie looked rougher than he had the last time he'd seen him.

"Frankie," he said, with a slow grin. "I wasn't expecting to see you." Frankie approached and they shook hands. Up close he could see the redness in Frankie's eyes, the dark circles underneath, the pallor of his skin even under the ever present tan.

Frankie chuckled. "I sure as hell didn't expect to see you. Thought you'd left this place for good." There was an edge underlying his voice.

He shrugged. "First time I been back in a while." He cleared his throat. "How's the business treating you these days?"

Frankie looked pissed. "Same old shit, ya know? I think these label people don't know nothing about good music." Frankie was very talented, just not reliable. Labels didn't want a liability. "But I'm still hitting the honky tonks, the places around town. Those are the guys who know real good music and still put me on stages."

He was surprised Frankie could still get booked anywhere, but he supposed there were always places who needed someone to be on stage for a crowd. "Doing any writing?" Frankie fancied himself a really good songwriter and hung around a lot of writer rooms, but it wasn't his strong suit.

"Mostly on my own. You know how it is." He narrowed his eyes just a bit. "How long you back in town for?"

"Just a few weeks."

"Well, maybe I'll see you around while you're here."

He smiled tightly. "Maybe so."

Seeing Frankie reminded him though of what life had been like in Nashville before Vince's death. Late nights, hard drinking, feeling a little out of control. While Vince's death still gutted him, it had definitely been a wakeup call that he'd needed. He was glad he and Rayna were only planning to be in town for a few weeks, although if she were successful in landing a record deal, he wasn't sure what that would mean. For her or for them.

She had her appearance at the Bluebird that night and he knew she was nervous. He'd pulled some strings with the manager, someone he'd known for a while, getting her a spot on the early Sunday show, bypassing open mic night. He was feeling really good about how she was doing with her shows. They had brought extras of her demo, so they had made them available for sale when she performed. They hadn't sold a lot but any that did sell felt like a win. She'd gotten favorable feedback at every location and had already been invited back at several. It was turning into a busy few weeks and he hoped it would turn out to be a good sign.

She'd tossed and turned all night, but finally seemed to settle down around 3 AM, so he'd let her sleep and carefully got out of bed, quickly dressing and going into the kitchen to make coffee. He stood in front of the sliding doors that led out to the small balcony. It was a bitter cold day and overcast. The weather forecast had mentioned snow flurries, but he hadn't seen anything yet. He wondered about the backstory to the condo. Rayna had mentioned it belonged to her mother but she didn't know why she'd had it. She also told him that Tandy didn't seem to know either, but she wasn't sure if that was true. He wondered if maybe it was some kind of love nest. Rayna had told him her parents had a difficult marriage, fighting and conflict being the norm. It wouldn't have surprised him. He'd seen a picture of Virginia Wyatt, and she was a very attractive woman. He could see that Rayna favored her, with her red hair and blue eyes and the softness to her face. It must have been hard to lose her mom so young.

Just then he heard the shower turn on and he knew she was up. He smiled and set his mug on the table, heading back to the bedroom. The bathroom door was half closed and he could hear the water running. He quickly doffed his clothes and walked into the bathroom. He slid back the shower curtain and she turned, letting out first a gasp and then smiling when she saw it was him. He stepped into the tub and pulled the shower curtain back in place, then put his arms around her and pulled her back against him. He leaned onto her shoulder and then placed tiny kisses along her skin up her neck to behind her ear. She made a little noise and shivered just a little. "Mornin', baby," he murmured in her ear.

She lifted her shoulders a bit and leaned back more, molding her body to his, wrapping her arms around his. "Morning yourself," she said. He let one hand trail slowly down her abdomen, then rest between her legs. She moaned softly. He touched her then and groaned himself when he felt her warmth there. She moaned again. He ran his hand back up her abdomen and then cupped her breasts in both hands, brushing his thumbs over her already taut nipples. He nipped at her neck, rocking against her. He was hard and knew he wouldn't make her wait long but it was nice to have the chance to touch her and feel her this way. "Oh, Deacon," she murmured, rubbing her body against his, lifting her ass just a little to tease him.

"Mm, you're so sweet, baby," he whispered and moved his hand back between her legs, running his fingers over her and then inside her. "God, you're so hot." Then he moved both hands to her inner thighs, nudging her legs apart. He bent slightly at the knees and then entered her, groaning loudly. She rested her hands on the wall, and he had one arm around her waist, returning to her breasts to fondle and tease them as he moved inside her. She was moaning over and over, her head thrown back against his shoulder. He wasn't sure how much longer he would last and was glad to feel her seem to clench and then pulse around him.

"Oh, Deacon," she cried out and then he pushed inside her one last time, letting himself go, shouting out loud. He held her tightly, not moving, and then finally let his breath out slowly. He kissed her neck.

"Mm, that was good," he muttered softly. She nodded wordlessly. He breathed out once more and stepped back, turning her in his arms. He ran his hand back over her wet hair and down her back, pulling her close for a kiss. "Hope you meant to get your hair wet," he said, and she laughed.

"If I wasn't, I guess I have to make the best of it." She put her hands on his waist and kissed him. Then she turned and handed him a washcloth. "Now can you wash my back?"

He smiled, took the washcloth and did just that.


She barely touched her lunch. "Sweetie, you feeling okay?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah." She seemed distracted.

"You sure? You hardly ate nothing."

She looked down, then back up. "I guess I wasn't that hungry."

He pushed aside her sandwich and held his hands across the table. She lifted hers and placed them in his. "Listen, I know you're nervous, but don't be. I'm gonna be up there with you, remember that."

She smiled a little. "Yeah, that's true. That helps. Still. It's the Bluebird."

"Rayna, stop. Don't get all in your head. You got this. You got solid songs that you wrote."

"You helped."

"They're your songs, Ray. You did the heavy lifting. Most of what I did was the melody and you coulda done that. But they're your songs and your story."

She sighed. "It just feels like, I don't know, like it's important. Like it's do or die."

"Except it's not. You're building this all up in your head into something that's just too big. You can't think like that. You gotta go in there believing you belong there." He took a deep breath and squeezed her hands gently. "You want this?"

She nodded. "You know I do."

"You believe you got talent?" She opened her mouth, and he could sense she was going to downplay it. "Forget Belcourt. Forget anyone else you ever came across. Do you believe you got talent? After you listened to your own demo?"

She hesitated. "Yeah, I guess," she said finally.

He frowned. "Not 'I guess'." He leaned towards her. "What did you see when you saw yourself making it as a singer?"

"Well, I guess I thought I'd be in front of big crowds, like in an arena or at a state fair or something like that, and I would sing songs those people wanted to hear."

"Would you be a star?"

She seemed a little uncomfortable with that. "I tried not to think too big, you know?"

He frowned again. "Why? Who made you think you couldn't dream big?" He knew what it felt like to think he wasn't worth anything because someone else told him he wasn't. "Your daddy?"

She looked down and for a second he felt bad for pushing her. Then she looked back at him, and he saw fire in her eyes, which made him smile. "He told me my dreams were ridiculous. But he's wrong. They're not." She got up and then leaned down and kissed him. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down onto his lap, making her laugh. "You believing in me is everything, Deacon. It really is." She put her arms around his neck. "All I can do is my best and that's what I'm gonna do. And we'll see what happens. But I do believe I can do this. I do believe I can be a big artist on a big label and do big things."

He smiled. "That's my girl," he said. "Tonight's gonna be a big night getting you to that place. You gotta go out there confident and take charge." He kissed her. "One day you're gonna be known as the Queen of Country Music."

She laughed. "From your lips to God's ears." Then she got up from his lap. "We need to practice." She took his hand and pulled him up from his chair.

Rayna

She had butterflies, she couldn't lie. But she was determined not to show them. She'd tried hard to think back to the beginning, when she was first starting out, all excited and sure of herself. She wanted to recapture that. The years of not getting beyond playing clubs and honky tonks around town, being told no, that she wasn't what country music was looking for, had worn her down, sapped a lot of her confidence. The whole debacle with Belcourt hadn't helped. When she really thought about it though, now she had a solid catalog of her own music. A small catalog, to be sure, but it would grow. She knew that. She had shown Deacon the lyrics she'd written down and his eyes had lit up. We can do something with this, Ray, he'd said. And they had. She'd finished out the lyrics, with a few tweaks from him, and then they had both worked on the music. He was teaching her that part too, but it was going a little slower than the lyrics part.

They'd gotten to the Bluebird early. She'd been inside many times, listening to other songwriters, wishing she could be one of them. And now she would. Deacon had introduced her to Amy Kurland, the owner and manager. Amy had said encouraging things about the songs on her demo, told her how she was looking forward to hearing her that night. She had wanted to ask Amy if there would be any important people there that night – Deacon said it was a good night for that – but she'd decided not to. It would only make her want to throw up if she knew it was a probability. Deacon was talking to Amy, so she walked around the room, looking at the pictures on the wall of people who'd performed inside this room. Some were famous, like performer famous, but many were only famous to other songwriters. The people who wrote the songs for famous people.

When they started letting people inside, she squealed a little when she saw Tandy come in. She ran over and hugged her sister. "I'm so glad you're here," she said, smiling broadly.

"I can't wait to hear you," Tandy said. Tandy had listened to the demo and had seemed blown away by it. Of course, Tandy was her sister and her biggest cheerleader. Next to Deacon, of course.

"I'm not doing the songs on the demo," she said. "I have some new ones." She looked past her sister. "Where's Mack?"

Tandy rolled her eyes. "He had some business dinner. At least that's what he says."

She frowned. "On a Sunday?" That seemed odd.

Tandy shrugged. "Businesspeople never sleep. You know that."

She rolled her eyes. "I guess. So you don't believe him?"

Tandy shook her head and then smiled. "Of course, I believe him. He's a very busy man. Just like I'm busy. Now, when does this whole shindig start?"

She wasn't so sure Tandy really did believe her husband had a business dinner, but her sister had never shared any trouble between the two of them. They'd just been married a couple years though, so maybe it was just two busy people, like she said. "6:00. But I'm the third one, so I won't be singing right away. We have a table though." She pointed at one along the far wall.

Tandy's face brightened. "I think a glass of wine would be nice while we wait," she said and then she turned and headed for the bar.

She followed behind her sister and leaned on the bar while Tandy waited for her wine. "I really am glad you came. It makes me feel less nervous."

Tandy paid for her drink and then turned to her. "You shouldn't be nervous, sweetheart. I've heard you sing and you're fantastic."

"Yes, she is." Deacon had walked up behind Tandy and heard what she said.

Tandy turned. "Well, hey there, Deacon," she said.

Deacon gave her a tight smile. "Tandy."

She had badly wanted Deacon and Tandy to really like each other. And it wasn't like they didn't per se, but they didn't seem to be each other's favorite person. Not that they had to be, she supposed. As long as they weren't adversaries. She smiled at Deacon. "I'm glad she came."

He smiled a little more. "I am too." He looked at Tandy then. "I know it'll make her feel more at ease."

"Well, I'm glad to help." Then she took off and sat down at the table that was theirs.

She looked at Deacon, putting her hand on his arm. "I'm sorry she's so prickly, babe," she said.

Deacon smiled. "She may be prickly, but I think it's just she still don't think I'm right for you."

She shrugged. "Well, she's wrong about that. You're perfect for me." She smiled up at him and he kissed her.

"We should go sit. Everything's getting ready to start." He put his hand on the small of her back and led her to the table. She sat across from Tandy, who'd turned her chair to face the stage, and Deacon sat next to her. She scooted her chair closer to his and leaned against him as he put his arm around her back, resting it on the chair back. She put her hand on his thigh and smiled at him again.


She couldn't decide if she wished she'd been the first to go on or not, because the butterflies continued to build as they waited. The 2 performers before her were very good and she wasn't sure she was up to that level. She'd prepared 3 songs for the evening – Maybe I Don't Mind and 2 newer ones, American Beauty and Love Can Hold It All. She felt good about all 3. She'd written most of the lyrics on all of them, with Deacon tightening them up here and there. She was excited to showcase the songs they'd written together, feeling better every day about their musical collaboration. It seemed that writing music together just strengthened their personal bond, or maybe it was the personal bond that enhanced the songwriting. Either way, it felt magical.

Her name was called and she and Deacon stood up to go on stage. Tandy turned in her chair. Good luck, she mouthed. She smiled at her sister and took a breath, hoping to calm the raging butterflies in her stomach. When they were on the stage, she turned back to Deacon.

"We're starting with Maybe I Don't Mind?" she asked. It was more up tempo and he felt like it was a good one to start with, to hook the audience.

He nodded. "You got this, baby," he whispered.

She took a deep breath and turned to face the crowd. The room was not completely filled, but there weren't many open seats. The fact that that meant maybe 80 people or so didn't make it easier. But this could be her big shot. She caught sight of Amy back near the bar and she felt her heart beat a little harder. If this went well, it might mean Amy would welcome her back. She stepped up to the mic and smiled. "Hey, y'all, I'm Rayna Jaymes and I'm excited to be here." She gestured towards Deacon. "This is Deacon Claybourne – maybe some of y'all have seen him here before – and he's helping me out." She took another deep breath. "This first song is one we wrote together called Maybe I Don't Mind. Hope you like it."

Deacon started the intro and then she began to sing. I don't know the ending to the story. You just came my way. Nothing was the same. Every single touch is like you know me, I just hope you stay. So please don't turn away….


When she finished the final chorus to American Beauty, she felt something she hadn't expected to feel – exhilarated. The response to each song was very positive and it had given her confidence with each succeeding one. The people in the crowd had seemed interested in her music and had given her encouragement after each one. She'd stopped thinking about Amy Kurland, standing in the corner, and whether or not there were label people or talent managers in the audience. It felt good to share her music, this time at the place where she'd always wanted to perform. It wasn't that she hadn't had good response at the other places she'd performed in, but this had felt like the mountaintop, and she stood at the mic smiling, feeling a sense of accomplishment. "Thank y'all," she said into the mic and then she turned towards Deacon, who was smiling. He put his arm around her as they started off the stage.

"You were amazing, baby," he whispered in her ear. "They loved you." She smiled up at him.

When they got back to their table, Tandy stood briefly and hugged her, whispering "You were great!", mindful of the rule to be quiet during performances. She was happy her sister had been able to be there and she hardly heard the person who followed her that night. She was reliving the experience in her head, feeling happy with how it had gone. Although she didn't want to, she couldn't help but wonder if there had been anyone in the audience who could impact her career. She didn't want to be too hopeful or expect something that might not happen, but it was hard not to wish for it. Whatever happened, it had been the most exciting night of her life and a dream come true.


There hadn't been time to hang out for long after the show since there was a second show following, so she and Tandy had hugged before Tandy left, promising to call her the next day. She and Deacon got into his truck and pulled out of the back parking lot. He looked over at her. "Wanna grab something to eat?"

She hadn't eaten since breakfast and realized as soon as he said something that she was starving. "Yes," she said enthusiastically. "How about across the street at the Grille?"

"Sounds good to me." He pulled out onto the main road and almost immediately turned left to get into the Grille's parking lot. He parked and they got out, hurrying into the cozy restaurant.

She ordered a bowl of soup and he ordered a burger. She clasped her hands on the table in front of her and sighed. "So how do you feel like it went?"

"I thought it went great. You were better than the other ones there."

She smiled. "You're biased."

He grinned. "I am. And I don't make no excuses for it. But it's the truth." He reached across the table for her hands. "And before we left Amy told me she'd love to have you back."

She felt like her heart stopped for a second. "Really?"

He nodded. "Really." He smiled at her again. "See? I told you once you had music that told your story, it would change everything."

She wanted to say that unless it manifested itself in a record deal, she wasn't sure she could see everything changing, but she mentally bit her tongue. "Well, it does make me feel like there's a light at the end of the tunnel," she said, hoping at least that was true.

"Just wait, baby," he said. Then their food came and they sat back, letting the server set it down on the table.