Page 113 of So Not My Thing
As the verse built to the chorus, the last of the tension slipped from my body. This was good. This was right. And whatever else might happen next, I had given Miles my truth.
I sang the chorus and the third verse, and as the melody transitioned toward the bridge, giving me a short break from vocals, I turned to beam at Jordan, so thankful he was backing me. I hoped he still felt good about giving me this chance.
But it wasn’t Jordan at the piano. It was Miles.
He smiled at me, his expression soft and gentle. I stared at him, frozen, not noticing that I had missed the entrance for the final chorus until he sang it like he’d meant to do it all along.
“You make me new, I’m whole with you,” he sang. “You’re all I’ll ever want or need...”
“We’re the love story I want to read,” I sang with him on the last line. Our voices blended as effortlessly as they had all the nights it had been the two of us in here, playing together like the rest of the world didn’t exist.
He played an outro and let the last notes fade. I hadn’t turned to face the audience since I’d realized he was there. It was quiet, as if they knew we were all holding our breaths together.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Miles said into the mic, never taking his eyes from me, “this is Miss Elle. My Ellie. And every song I’ve sung for the last three months has been to her, for her, and about her. But I’ve never actually said to her that I love her.”
My heart starting kicking snare triplets.
“Ellie Jones, I love you.”
A huge grin split my face, and he pushed back from the piano only to climb on top of the piano bench. He threw his head back and shouted, “I love Ellie Jones!”
The audience lost it. They broke into hoots and hollers and suddenly Jordan was onstage again, this time on the snare, tapping out a drumroll. The hoots grew louder, and then over them, Chloe’s voice, clear as bell. “Kiss her!”
Miles didn’t need to be told twice. He jumped down from the bench, sweeping me into his arms and dipping me like an old-time sailor returning from sea. “I love you, Ellie Jones.”
“Prove it,” I said, grinning up at him.
His kiss made the whole world spin away, and when he set me back on my feet again, the audience was on theirs, catcalling and applauding.
“Now that’s what I call a turnaround,” I said, close to his ear.
“Better give them an encore,” he said.
And we did.
