Page 57 of Betsy
I wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. I was willing to take that leap. For Asher and for myself.
I hurried out of the bus and made a beeline for Grace First’s entrance. The church’s sound guy had stopped by to offer a hand earlier, and if I was quick enough, maybe I could still catch him before he left. To put my plan into action, I’d need the help of everyone.
I pushed open the glass front door and barreled into the lobby like a bullet shot from a gun. One handled by a horrible marksman as, in my haste, I plowed into a solid chest, teetered, then ricocheted backward, my feet tangling together. Strong hands reached out and gripped my upper arms, steading me.
“For someone who makes it a point to let people know you don’t fall for musicians, I sure have had to catch you from hitting the floor an awful lot.”
My head snapped up at Asher’s teasing voice near my ear.
He smiled, an outward display to accompany his attempt at humor and lightness. To put us on an even footing again after Vegas. But I saw the way sadness and regret weighed down the corners of his lips. There would never be even footing with us. Which could possibly explain why I was always tripping and finding myself in his arms. He skewed my equilibrium. Made me feel unbalanced in the most thrilling way possible.
His head tilted and his brows furrowed. “Is everything okay?”
I tried to school my features, but he could always see past my defenses. While I could fool everyone else, I’d never been able to fool Asher.
I could tell him. Right here, right now. Tell him that none of the things I thought were keeping us apart mattered. That I trusted him. Apologize for ever thinking he would turn out to be anything like Wyatt or other guys I’d worked with in the past at the studio. Tell him that my sister wasn’t a road block at all but that she wanted us to be together.
I could. But would he believe me? Words could be pretty. His lyrics and compositions proved that. But he could’ve told me he was trustworthy until he was blue in the face. It wasn’t until I could see the truth in his actions that I began to believe it.
Asher deserved my truth in action as well. I wouldn’t just tell him how I felt. I’d show him.
I smiled up at him. “I’m fine. Just in a hurry to catch the PA guy. I need to ask him something before he leaves.” I made to walk away, but Asher caught me by the hand.
“Betsy, I…”
His gaze burned as he looked at me. My blood heated in my veins.
Just when I was about to show him my feelings in a different way than planned—sear the truth to his lips with a kiss—the fire banked in his eyes and he dropped my hand.
“Never mind.” He shook his head.
I bit my tongue to keep from saying anything, then turned on my heel in search of everyone I’d need as an accomplice to pull off my plan.
Hours later, the fifteen hundred seats in the worship center full, Asher took to the stage in a pair of faded jeans and a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. I watched from behind the wall that hid the waiting area from the audience’s view. His natural charisma immediately pulled everyone in, making them fall in love with him instantly.
I peered around the corner of the wall and squinted to see out into the crowd. With the house lights dimmed and the spotlights shining onto the stage, it was difficult to see past the first row. Was the representative from the recording label here? Was he sitting somewhere among the shadows? Perhaps the man with the mustache sitting on the end? Or the lady in the lace top?
Asher played the introduction of the first song on his guitar, plucking the strings. It was a number that Tricia and the rest of the band members only sang a minimal backup to. They’d decided to change some of the set arrangements to accommodate not having a female vocal.
Asher’s voice rang out, strong and melodious, growing as the song crescendoed, then pooling sweetly and falling gently as the emotion of the piece evicted a contemplative response. He held the final note until it softly dissipated over the audience’s heads.
Applause followed, some people even rising to their feet.
I gripped the microphone in my hand, wishing I’d rubbed my damp palm along the side of my pants to dry first. My heart pounded in my ears. Jimmy looked over at me as the crowd began to die down. Before Asher could announce the next song, I dipped my chin. Jimmy nodded back, then set his fingers on the keys of his keyboard and played the opening measures of Asher’s hidden song.
My gaze was focused on Asher, so I knew the exact moment the notes clicked in his brain. He jerked, then pivoted.What are you doing?he mouthed. Indecision warred on his face. He couldn’t decide if he should stop Jimmy and make some kind of joke to mask the mistake for the crowd or do nothing.
I raised the microphone to my lips and took a steadying breath. “In the deepest, in the quiet places; I can hear you, a song waiting to be written.”
Asher’s gaze zeroed in on me like a missile locking on to a target. His eyes rounded.
“You sing to me, a symphony, we’d be in perfect harmony.” I nodded toward him and smiled softly as I sang.
Wonder filled his face. He looked stunned. Transfixed. There was so much I wanted to say to him. That I wanted him to know. I hoped he could hear my heart through the words he himself had written. See that I wouldn’t hide anymore—not from him or myself. I hoped my voice projected so that over a thousand people could hear my declaration to Asher. That through this song, he’d know I was falling in love with him.
The part of the song written as a duet approached. Asher gripped the microphone and joined his voice with mine, his gaze never straying from my eyes. His hand lifted, and he reached out, palm up, inviting me to his side.
I didn’t hesitate. Not this time. I stepped out onto the stage, Asher reeling me in with the love pouring out of his gaze and the words his heart had bled onto the page. When I reached him, he interlocked our fingers, and we sang the lyrics to each other, the audience forgotten. While the crowd looked on, we cocooned ourselves in the music. In each other. Every chord was a promise. Each note a declaration. This moment was a chorus we’d be coming back to again and again.
