Page 32 of Catastrophically Yours
Thinking love was something I could buy with my voice
But the strongest songs are sung without a stage
Written in the margins of an ordinary page..."
The rest of the room faded until there was only music and truth and the courage to finally say what mattered:
"So I choose the morning coffee and the quiet kind of real
I choose the hand that steadies me when nothing else feels
Like home, like hope, like everything I never knew I'd find
In the space between your heartbeat and mine..."
The last chord hung in the air. Drew looked out at the audience—at Janet wiping away tears, at Brian grinning withobvious pride, at Piper whose careful composure had cracked to reveal something raw and hopeful underneath.
And at Chris, standing near the back with an expression she couldn't quite read. Not anger or disappointment, but something that looked almost like understanding.
Applause filled the café, warm and genuine. Drew set Luna aside and stepped down from the small stage as other musicians took their turns. The benefit continued around her, but she felt suspended in the moment of choice she'd just made public.
Chris approached during the break between sets, moving through the crowd with careful respect for the ongoing event.
"That was beautiful," he said when he reached her, and his voice carried none of its usual calculation. "The song, I mean. Really beautiful."
"Thank you."
"I think..." Chris paused, running a hand through his hair in a gesture she recognized from their most honest moments together. "I think I get it now. What you're choosing. It's not about the music versus stability or any of that. It's about writing your own story instead of fitting into someone else's."
Drew felt something ease in her chest. "Yeah. That's exactly it."
"The label offer—it's still on the table if you change your mind. But I'm not going to push anymore." Chris glanced around the café, taking in the community that had gathered to support a stranger's medical bills. "This is good, Drew. What you've built here. Don't let anyone convince you it's not enough."
He started to leave, then turned back. "For what it's worth, I think you made the right choice. Even if it means I don't get to work with you again."
After he left, Drew stood in the warm chaos of the benefit concert, surrounded by musicians and neighbors and the family that had somehow become hers. Piper caught her eyefrom across the room and smiled—not the careful, controlled expression she usually wore, but something open and wondering and full of possibility.
The evening continued around them, music and laughter and the satisfying weight of money being raised for people who needed it. But Drew felt settled in a way she hadn't in years, anchored by the knowledge that she'd chosen authentically rather than safely.
Some choices were worth the risk of everything. Especially when everything turned out to be exactly what you'd been looking for all along.
FIFTEEN
PERFECT HARMONY
Sunlight filtered through curtains that represented three months of compromise—Drew's flowing emerald fabric panels softened the edges of Piper's precise white blinds, creating patterns that shifted and danced across the hardwood floor. The apartment told the story of their three months together in countless small details: Piper's alarm clock sat beside Drew's scattered guitar picks on the nightstand, while a framed photo of them at last month's farmers market leaned against a small wooden jewelry box Drew had brought from home.
Piper stirred first, as always, her internal clock more reliable than any device. Drew's arm draped across her waist, warm and secure in sleep. Three months ago, Piper would never have imagined waking up grateful for another person's unconscious claim on her space. Now she found herself reluctant to slip away from Drew's embrace, even for her morning routine.
The coffee maker burbled to life in the kitchen as Drew hummed something new—lyrics still forming, melody finding its shape in the quiet morning air. Piper emerged from the bedroom to find Drew swaying slightly as she measured coffee grounds, wearing one of Piper's button-down shirts over sleep shorts, the pale blue fabric bringing out the warm undertones in her skin.
"New song?" Piper asked, settling at the kitchen table where their shared calendar spread across the surface in organized sections.
"Mmm, maybe." Drew glanced over with a smile that still made Piper's chest tighten in the best way. "Or maybe I'm just happy."
The calendar presented a rainbow of careful planning: blue dots for Drew's gigs, green blocks for Piper's client meetings, and purple highlighted squares for their joint activities. What had started as Piper's desperate attempt to create structure around Drew's chaotic schedule had evolved into something neither had expected—a visual representation of their life building together, complete with inside jokes written in margins and Drew's occasional musical note doodles.
"Mrs. Patterson confirmed the album recording budget," Piper said, uncapping her favorite pen. "We can book the studio for four days next month if we want the package deal."
