Page 218 of Collide
My fingers brush the smooth neck of my guitar as I settle onto the stool. The dress pools around me, molten and alive.
The mic waits.
I lean in. My voice holds steady—steadier than I feel.
“Hi, everyone.” I smile as the crowd quiets, a few faces beaming back at me. “First of all, thank you. Truly. Thank you for being here tonight, for celebrating with me, for supporting me, and for standing by me in ways I can’t fully put into words.”
Soft murmurs ripple through the rooftop. Gentle applause.
“This album,” I continue, glancing down before lifting my gaze again, “has been a long time coming. It’s…pieces of me I wasn’t always ready to share. Parts of my story I wasn’t sure anyone would want to hear.” I pause. Swallowing the lump that surfaces again. “But I hope tonight—and whenRisecomes out—you hear not just heartbreak. But healing. And maybe even hope.”
Applause swells, louder now. Riley whoops from somewhere in the back, and this time, I laugh for real.
I adjust the strap of my guitar and smile. “So, this is ‘Sparks.’ I hope you love it as much as I loved writing it.”
The first soft chords rise into the night, curling through the rooftop air. Conversation fades into hush.
I begin to sing.
My eyes move through the crowd. Riley sways gently, wine glass in hand, her curls catching the candlelight. Philippa stands tall beside Andrew, pride practically radiating off her. Mark grins wide, like a proud uncle who knew all along I’d get here.
Then, during the second verse, my gaze lands on him.
My father.
He stands near Carole, no longer stiff or guarded. His face is open, watchful. There’s something there I can’t quite name.
Pride? Awe?
I hope maybe he finally sees me. Not the disappointment who chose melodies over mergers.
The weight of it nearly knocks the breath from me. I falter for a beat, but recover.Keep going.
Still no Alex.
By the time I strum the final chord, the note lingers like a held breath, and then the rooftop explodes into applause. Cheers, whistles, people rising to their feet, shouting my name.
I smile—real and wide—but it lands somewhere heavy inside my chest.
I stand. Bow slightly.
Then—
Crack.
A sudden burst behind me splits the night. I turn just as fireworks shoot into the sky, bursting into gold, crimson and silver, the light scattering over the skyline like glitter.
The crowd oohs and ahhs. As their gazes lift toward the night sky.
It should be perfect.
But even as I smile and tilt my face toward the sky, I keep glancing back at the elevator.
Still empty.
The realization creeps in—slow and cold.
Still no Alex.
