Page 51 of Catch Yourself a Snowmance
Then she reaches around for her purse and says, “I got you something too.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Yes, I did. It’s Valentine’s. I wanted to celebrate you and to show you how much you’ve come to mean to me.”
She hands me an envelope, and says, “Open it.”
I carefully tear at the paper and shake the contents out into my hand. Two tickets. When I turn them over, they say,Tennessee Trojan Training Camp: Admit One.
“You got me tickets to training camp?”
“You like them?”
“I love it. But there are two tickets here …”
“I thought we’d go together. Unless you want to take one of the guys.”
“You want to go to training camp with me?” This woman. She keeps outdoing herself.
“I thought it would be fun.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “Are you sure you’re real? I didn’t just dream you up?”
She laughs. “I’m far too feisty to be anyone’s dream.”
“Your feistiness is one of my favorite things about you.” I hold the tickets up. “Thank you. I love them.”
“I got up at midnight the day they were dropping so I could secure them.”
“You … ? Wow. Thank you so much.”
The band closes out their last song and the restaurant turns on piped-in music to keep the ambiance alive while Addison and her musician friends pack up their instruments. We’re polishing off the last of the cheesecake when Addison walks down the stairs from the stage and approaches our table. People stop her along the way, thanking her or asking for selfies.
When Addison makes it to our table, she looks from me to Alyssa. “It was great singing with you,” she says to Alyssa.
“It was great for you?” Alyssa’s voice sounds incredulous.
“It was. You’re really good. Do you sing gigs? In a band? Backup?”
“None of the above. The occasional karaoke. Always in the shower. Sometimes in my car.”
“Wow. Well, if you ever want to crash another gig, reach out. I’d love to sing with you again sometime.”
“Are you … serious?” Alyssa looks at me and then back up at Addison.
“I’m dead serious. I don’t offer to share the stage with just anyone either. You’ve got a gift. The world should be allowed to hear it.”
“Wow. Thank you. Thanks so much.”
The fiddle player walks up beside Addison and wraps his arm around her waist.
“Hey, I’m Mike,” he extends his hand to me. “The fiddle player.”
I shake his hand. “Carson.”
“Good to meet you, man.”
“Well, we’ll leave you two to it. Here’s my card,” Addison says to Alyssa.
