Page 114 of The Way We Collide

“Too late.” He grins, leaning closer to kiss my temple before speaking in my ear. “You’re going to blow them away.”

“I don’t know about that.” I look down at his strong forearms leaning on the counter beside me.

It’s time. I know it’s time, but I don’t know how to start this conversation.

I can’t find a gentle segue from all the things we’ve shared to “it’s time to say goodbye.” I’m not even sure I even want to.

But I promised…

The music changes to a familiar keyboard and drums intro,and I glance to the front to see a young man holding the microphone. There’s a spoken word part, and my skin prickles as he begins to sing “End of the Road” by Boys II Men.

My chest tightens. A knot is in my throat, and I look up at my husband. It’s the stupidest, perfect theme for what I’m about to say, and while I’m afraid, confidence is all over his features.

“It’s the first moment we’ve had alone since our flight here.” He reaches across the table for me.

My gaze lowers to his large hand covering my left one. “Sorry, I slept the entire drive here from Atlanta.”

I’m not sorry.

He continues, “Feels like we’ve been holding our breath all weekend, when we have this decision hanging over our heads.” Our eyes meet, and his thumb slides across my fingers, turning the gold band on my third one. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, Pink?”

It’s a teasing question, but my throat is so tight.

I struggle to inhale, to swallow the pain as I say the words. “I think, for better or worse, all our family is here. They want us to come home, and I want Haddy to know them. The only thing is…”

A sad smile curls his lips. “The only thing in LA is me.”

It’s not exactly what I was going to say as I study the gold band shining in the glow of the Yuengling sign. “You’re a big thing, a very important thing. But I know, being married and having a family isn’t what you want.”

His brow furrows, and his thumb stills on my hand. “Is that really what you think?”

“It’s what you said,” I whisper as the guy sings.Still, I can’t let go… “It’s what we agreed.”

Hendrix steps around the table, standing in front of me. He looks down, smiling with so much emotion. Emotion I want to believe is love.

“Then why are there tears in your eyes?” His voice is low.

If I blink, they’ll spill onto my cheeks.It’s unnatural… “There are?”

“I know you better than that, Pink.”

The song fades out, and the DJ’s voice is on the microphone calling my name. My chin quivers, and I look over to where he’s holding it out to me.

“That was fast.” I do my best to dry my eyes.

“I tipped him twenty bucks.”

The intro saxophone and drum beat for “Good Morning, Baltimore” begins, and I walk forward, taking the mic and losing myself in the song I know by heart.

It’s a song of optimism and defiance, of believing in dreams and not letting anyone hold you down.

I belt it out, losing my sadness in the joyful words, and when I look around, several kids in the crowd are singing along with me. A girl and a few guys stand on the edge of the makeshift stage, doing the dance from the show.

When we get to the chorus, they sing it loud with me, and for a moment, everything fades away like it always did—my mom’s cruel words, Larry’s echoing backup, my powerlessness, the ache of wanting to leave and feeling trapped.

In that song, I’m strong and fierce, and the crowd is behind me. No one can say we’re not good enough.

I sing the final words, and everyone cheers and holds up their hands for high-fives. I’m smiling as I walk off the stage, after handing the mic to the DJ, who gives me a thumbs-up.

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