Ooh, he was going to pay for that later.
The chick on the stage singing “Diamonds” wrapped it up, and the place exploded into applause. She’d been decent, but really, the live band made up for a lot of faults. They were really good. I had my fingers crossed that they’d be good enough for me, too.
I was shaking when I climbed the short steps to the stage. When the loud whistles and cheers erupted from our table, I couldn’t help but laugh despite my nervousness. I gripped the mic in its stand and the beat kicked in immediately. The familiar song, one I loved, gave me the boost I needed to start.
Looking at Gideon, I warbled my way through the opening lyrics, telling him he was amazing. Even over the music, I could hear the laughter at my horrible voice. My own table erupted with it, but I had expected that.
I’d chosen “Brave.” I had to be it to sing it—that, or crazy.
I stayed focused on my husband, who wasn’t laughing or smiling. He just stared intently at my face as I told him via Sara Bareilles’s lyrics that I wanted to see him speak up and be brave.
The catchy composition plus the skill of the band backing me began to win over the crowd, who started singing along, more or less. My heart strengthened my voice, giving power to the message meant only for Gideon.
He needed to stop holding his silence. He needed to tell his family the truth. Not for me or for them, but for him.
When the song ended, my friends surged to their feet in applause and I grinned, energized. I gave a lavish bow and laughed when the strangers at the tables in front of the stage joined in the unearned praise. I knew my strengths. My singing voice certainly wasn’t one of them.
“That was fuckin’ awesome!” Shawna shouted when I got back to the table, grabbing me in a fierce hug. “You owned that, girl.”
“Remind me to pay you later,” I said dryly, feeling my face heat as the rest of our party kicked in with praise. “You guys are full of it.”
“Ah, baby girl,” Cary drawled, his green eyes bright with laughter, “you can’t be good at everything. It’s a relief to know you’re flawed like the rest of us.”
I stuck my tongue out at him and picked up the fresh vodka cranberry sitting in front of my spot.
“Your turn, lover boy,” Arash goaded, grinning at Gideon.
My husband nodded, then looked at me. His face held no hint to his thoughts, and I began to worry. There was no softness on his lips or in his eyes, nothing to give me a clue.
And then some idiot started singing “Golden.”
Gideon stiffened, his jaw visibly tightening. Reaching for his hand, I gave it a squeeze and felt a bit of relief when he squeezed back.
He kissed my cheek and headed to the stage, cutting through the crowd with easy command. I watched him go, seeing other women’s heads turn to follow him. I was biased, of course, but knew for a certainty that he was the most striking man in the room.
Seriously, it should be criminal for a man to be that sexy.
I looked at Arash and Arnoldo. “Have either of you heard him sing?”
Arnoldo shook his head.
Arash laughed. “Hell, no. With any luck, he’ll sound like you. Like Cary says, he can’t be good at everything or we’d all have to hate him.”
The guy onstage wrapped it up. A moment later, Gideon walked on. For some reason, my heart started pounding as badly as it had when I was up there. My palms grew clammy and I wiped them on my skirt.
I was afraid of what it would be like to watch Gideon up there. Much as I hated to think it, Brett was a hard act to follow and hearing “Golden,” even sung by someone who shouldn’t ever have access to a microphone, brought those two worlds too close together.