Page 33 of By Any Beans Necessary

"Murder's a strong word," he protested, but there was no heat behind it.

"Fine. Manslaughter." She gave him an impish grin.

"Only because you asked so nicely." He surrendered with a theatrical sigh, letting her lead the way to the karaoke signup sheet.

Twinkling lights hung from the rafters in the back area, casting a warm glow over the mismatched furniture. A microphone stood center stage, beckoning the brave or the foolhardy.

"Remember, you promised to be terrible," she whispered as they queued up.

"Darlin', I'm a man of my word." The twinkle in his eye was as potent as the promise.

"Next up, we have Jeff," Emily, who was acting as host for the night, announced, setting off a scattered applause.

Jeff ambled to the mic, his casual confidence a stark contrast to the quaking first-timer who'd preceded him. He scanned the crowd, his gaze landing on Michelle, who was wearing a grin that said they were in this together.

"All right folks, brace yourselves," he warned good-naturedly, then launched into a rendition of "I Want to Know What Love Is" that was, indeed, fantastically awful.

Michelle clapped over her laughter, pride written across her face. Onstage, Jeff was all flailing limbs and off-key notes, a one-man comedy show. It wasn't just funny—it was endearing, the way he leaned into the performance, fearless and free.

"Give it up for Jeff," Emily reclaimed the mic, while the audience cheered their approval—or maybe their relief.

"See? Terrible." Jeff swaggered back to Michelle, feigning arrogance.

"Adorably terrible." She corrected, standing on tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Your reward," she teased, "for being a good sport."

"Best prize ever," Jeff praised, slipping an arm around her waist.

Later, as the night wound down, they left the laughter and music behind. The outside air was crisp, carrying the scent of impending winter. Jeff's hand found hers, their fingers intertwining naturally as they approached the stairs leading up to her apartment above the Coffee Loft.

"Tonight was...unexpected," he admitted, each step upward bringing them closer to goodbye.

"Unexpectedly perfect," she countered, her voice soft with contentment.

At the top of the stairs, under a sky dusted with stars, they paused. He cupped her face gently, thumbs caressing her cheeks. Their breaths mingled, hearts beating a synchronized rhythm. Then, their lips met—a silent language of shared history and newfound hope.

"Good night, Jeff," she whispered against his lips.

"Good night, Michelle." His voice was raw with emotion.

"See you tomorrow?" Hope tinted her words.

"Tomorrow and every day after that," he confirmed, the finality of their parting sweetened by the certainty of more tomorrows to come.

Neither of them went to move. They lingered in the embrace, a cocoon of warmth on the landing. Her head rested against Jeff's chest, his heartbeat steady beneath her ear. The night hummed with the distant echo of karaoke tunes drifting from below, their laughter still clinging to the cool air.

"Is that what I think it is?" a voice boomed from beneath them. Mrs. Shomacker's silhouette, a broad shape against the dim glow of street lamps, craned upward. A gleam of satisfaction in her eyes as if she'd caught a rom-com playing out live before her. "Does this mean you two are back together?" Her words cut through the quiet, sharp and nosy.

"Shh," Michelle wanted to say, "let us have this moment." Instead, their hearts answered in unison.

"Yes," they exclaimed, voices mingling like their breaths had moments ago.

"Finally," Mrs. Shomacker’s chortle rattled the evening air. "I'll tell the church group."

"Great," Michelle muttered, rolling her eyes.

Jeff squeezed her hand, shared amusement sparking between them. "Nosy, old busybody," he whispered, and Michelle snickered, the sound catching on the wind.

"Quiet, you two. I can hear everything," Mrs. Shomacker called out with a mock sternness that couldn't quite hide her chuckle.

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