Containing the song “It Only Hurts When I’m Breathing” by Shania Twain in its entirety
and a snippet or two of “Faithfully” by Journey

In . . . out . . . in . . . out . . .

Elizabeth tried her best to concentrate on her breathing.

She tried to focus on anything other than the pain that was stabbing at her as she put things in the box lying on the bed.

It had never occurred to her exactly how much of an impact he’d made on her home, how many items had memories of him attached to them.

He was all over the apartment: pictures, clothing, CDs, trinkets that he’d given to her as gifts.

She couldn’t bear to throw them out.

At the same time, she couldn’t bear to look at them anymore.

So, in the box they went.

Her eyes fell on the teddy bear he’d brought her from Hawaii.

Tears began to trickle down her cheeks as she picked it up and pressed her face into its little Hawaiian shirt.

It was almost as if she could smell his cologne on the stuffed animal.

More tears escaped as the memories of their last conversation slammed into her.

His face was serious as he looked at her from the driver’s seat.

“I think we need to spend some time apart.”

She gave him an amazed look. “Spend some time apart? We hardly see each other as it is and you want to spend time apart?”

He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. I think we need to reconsider this . . . us.”

The words slammed around in her mind and she blinked at him for a minute, not sure whether to laugh, cry, scream or just throw up.

“Reconsider us?”

She knew she sounded like a parrot, but this was coming directly out of the blue.

He sighed and fidgeted with the steering wheel. “Beth . . . I just . . . I think we need a break.”

And, like the idiot she was, she’d agreed with him.

She hadn’t argued, she hadn’t fought the way every ounce of her being had been screaming at her to do.

She’d simply agreed.

Because she loved him enough to want for him to be happy.

If he wasn’t happy with her, then . . . she had to let him go.

No matter how much it hurt.

She sighed and dropped the bear into the box.

She reached into her jewelry box and pulled out the charm bracelet he’d given to her.

She ran her fingers over the golden chain, making sure to touch each and every charm.

He’d added charms to it until there wasn’t an open space, picking out little shapes that had meant something to him, no matter how strange they were.

A chicken, for the night they’d met. She laughed out loud at the memory . . .

She walked quickly between the tables, pausing to refill three iced teas and a coffee as she made her way to one of the tables in the corner.

“Liz! Chicken and rice to table four, not table seventeen!”

“Of course it goes to table four. That’s exactly why the cook put it on the tray for table seventeen.” She grumbled as she stopped in her tracks, turning quickly to head back to table four.

As she whipped around, the little boy at the table next to her jumped down from his seat and ran right in front of her, catching her off guard.

The overloaded tray tilted as she side-stepped the child and she fought to keep it upright.

She winced when she saw the small plate slip off the end of the tray, closing her eyes and waiting for the loud crash of a breaking dish.

Her eyes flew open when she heard a loud round of laughter directly in front of her instead.

She held her breath and moved the tray out of the way to see five guys sitting at table twelve, four pointing and laughing as rice rained down from the fifth’s dark hair.

He looked down at the overturned plate in his lap, more rice falling onto his shirt with the movement of his head.

Laughter carried through the dining room and she could feel the blush covering her from head to toe, turning her skin the same deep red as her hair, as she took in the obvious designer labels that had been stained by the damp chicken and rice.

“Oh, my . . . I am so sorry.” Her hand shook as she took the plate he held out to her, putting it back on the tray only to have to set the whole thing down on the vacant table next to her before she dropped it.

“I think these are yours, too.” He held out the pieces of chicken to her, his lips twitching as he tried his hardest not to laugh at her horrified expression.

She took the chicken and tossed it back on the plate, her eyes widening at the spots left on his clothing.

“Oh, my . . . umm, that’s going to stain.” She ran a hand over her face as she stammered. “I mean . . . crap, of course it’s going to stain.”

“Good Lord, I’m a klutz.” She mumbled as she pulled her orders notebook out of her pocket, quickly writing down their table number -- as if she could possibly forget. “I’m sorry about that, sir. We’ll be more than happy to cover the meals for your table.”

She glanced at their order sheet, biting her lip as she estimated how much it was going to set her back, then quickly flipped to a clean page, jotting down her phone number before ripping the page and holding it out to him. “I’ll cover the dry cleaning . . . or the replacement or whatever it is that needs to be done. Just let me know.”

He reached up to take the number from her, a grin spreading across his face as he watched her fidget, chewing her lip and shaking her head in mortification.

She began to dust the rice off of his shoulders, but he grabbed her hand, pulling her down to his level and looking her over with laughing eyes as he read her name badge.

“Elizabeth . . . when I call you, you can bet that it won’t be to collect on the dry cleaning.”

If possible, she turned even redder.

A sudden silence fell over their audience.

All too aware of the amused stares from his friends boring into her, she straightened up, grabbing the tray before turning back to him.

“Sir, I don’t think . . .”

“It’s Chris.”

She blinked. “Okay. Trust me, Chris . . . you couldn’t handle me.”

He looked her up and down, his eyebrow arched playfully. “For some reason, I think I could.”

“You wouldn’t make it past the first hour.” She shook her head and laughed, turning to walk away.

He twisted in his chair, more rice falling to the ground as he moved, to call out after her. “It’ll be fun to find out, won’t it?”

He’d called her the next week . . . and she’d had to admit that he was right. It had been fun to find out that he could not only make it past an hour . . . but that he could completely sweep her off her feet.

Her fingers traveled on around the chain, smiling at several of the small shapes.

A treble clef, not just for his love of music, but for hers as well.

A bowling pin, for the first date that they’d had without a plan or a security guard. They’d wound up at Galaxy Bowling Lanes, bowling by black light and dancing to the seventies music coming from the juke box. They’d been able to let loose and really enjoy each other’s company, without having to worry about anything other than having a good time.

The first half of a golden heart, for when he’d told her that he loved her for the first time. The other half had come a month or so later, when she’d finally been able to say it in return . . .

He pulled back from the kiss, his hands coming up to cup her face.

“Are you sure you can’t come with me?”

She shook her head with a small smile. “You know I have gigs all week. If I could, I’d fly out with you. You know that.”

He smiled and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Yeah, I know.”

He pulled her tightly against him, holding her as though he didn’t want to let her go.

She patted his back with her hand. “You need to get going. You still haven’t packed and your flight leaves at ten in the morning.”

“Yeah, I know.” He leaned back so that he could smile at her.

“Have a safe trip.”

“I always do.” He moved forward to kiss her briefly.

His hands returned to her face, his thumbs moving back and forth under her eyes. “I love you, Beth.”

She smiled at him. “I love you, too.”

His thumbs halted their movement as he went completely still, his eyes searching hers. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

She could hear him exhale and saw his brilliant smile before he leaned his forehead against hers. “Say it again.”

“I love you, Chris.”

He sighed quietly. “It’s about time, Bethy.”

He’d barely gotten the words out when their lips met again.

She sighed, her fingertips moving up to touch her lips before going back to the bracelet.

A tiny airplane, for all the times she’d flown out to see him, and for his wish that he could just fly home to see her whenever he wanted.

The last charm was a gold circle, almost like a ring but she really wasn’t sure. Of all the charms, it was the oddest. Six months ago, he’d given it to her with no explanation, just a kiss and a promise to explain it later.

But he hadn’t gotten around to it.

And she still didn’t understand it.

She sighed and dropped the bracelet back into the jewelry box, unable to add it to the pile on the bed.

She looked around the room again, taking in all of the boxes on the floor, some full and some just starting to be filled.

It’d been a month since she’d last seen him and she was just now strong enough to start closing that chapter, to begin the small steps of moving forward again.

She knew she’d been hoping that he’d come to his senses and pick up the phone to say “Hey, I screwed up, I’m sorry.”

She’d felt her heart stop every time she’d answered the phone . . . but it had never been him.

And her world had slowly shattered into a million pieces.

Now, she had to learn how to live again.

She jumped when the phone on the table next to her rang shrilly.

She wiped the last trails of her tears from her cheeks, then reached out and grabbed it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Liz. It’s Jason.”

“Hey, Jase. What’s going on?”

“I need a favor.”

“What’s up?”

“Carlos broke two of his fingers and I need an act for tonight. I know Tuesday was supposed to be your last show, but if I don’t have music on a Friday night . . . well, we might not recover the lost business.”

“Okay.” Her mind raced through her material. “Special theme on Fridays?”

“Nothing special. It’s buy one, get one at the bar, but other than that, nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? You’re in?”

“Yeah, I’m in.” She checked her watch and sighed. “Let me get cleaned up and I’ll see you in an hour and a half.”

“You rock so hard, Lizzie.”

She laughed. “I know, I know. I’m saving your butt yet again.”

“Go get yourself all prettied up. I’ll see you later.”

“See ya.”

She clicked the phone off and walked quickly over to the closet to rustle through her nicest show clothes.

Out of all her clubs, Deep Blue was the trendiest, so the patrons expected high fashion all the way. It was a club that really functioned as a restaurant. The dance floor was only open on Saturdays and Wednesdays and they provided top notch entertainment, mostly geared to jazz, pop and the classics.

It catered to an adult audience. No head-bangers or mosh pits at Deep Blue.

So, she needed something that was classy, yet comfortable.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and groaned when she saw her coloring.

Pale skin and dark red hair meant two things . . . a black dress and a good make-up job.

She grabbed her strapless black performance dress off the rack. Perfect. Tight bodice, but the skirt was loose enough for the piano.

And maybe the sequins would draw the attention away from her pale cheeks.

She laid the dress out in a clear spot on the bed and set out her black heels.

Okay, so it was Deep Blue tonight.

Next week . . . the Vegas club scene.

She was moving on . . . and she was going to live again.

---------------------------------------------------------

In . . . out . . . in . . . out . . .

Chris took deep, concentrated breaths as he looked around the club.

He shook his head, irritated at his own stupidity. He’d known this place held too many memories.

But he was a glutton for punishment.

“Tell me again why I agreed to come here with you guys?” He swirled the water around in the bottom of his glass.

“Because they have the best crowd and you weren’t going to stay home and pout for another Friday night.” Justin spoke up, his nose buried in the menu. “And the food here is awesome.”

“And they have the best club acts around. I think tonight it’s Carlos Sanchez. He’s awesome.” Lance looked up with a smile as a waitress walked by to refill their drinks.

“Yeah, I’ve heard about him.” Chris picked up his menu and let his eyes travel over the listings before focusing in on his selection. “Guitar player. Kind of a jazzy-salsa style. Cool.”

The waitress stopped back at the table and they placed their orders.

“Do you guys always sit this far back?” Chris looked around at all the tables between theirs and the stage.

“Yeah. There’s a back entrance down this hallway, so if things get crazy we can duck out pretty easily.” Lance motioned over his shoulder to the hallway hidden behind a curtain hanging against the wall. “And the view is great. The back of the room is raised so that you get a better angle on the stage.”

He knew that. He’d been here enough to know all the details about the place.

But he usually sat front and center. She’d always liked for him to be in the front.

No matter how many times she got up on the stage to do her thing, she still got jitters every time. Having him close had comforted her until she found her groove.

Not that he’d complained. He’d loved to watch her perform.

He still did.

There was just something about watching her lose herself in a song. She was already a naturally beautiful woman, but when she put everything she had into her performance, she became . . . exquisite.

He missed seeing that.

He missed everything about her. Her smile. The way her green eyes lit up when she laughed. The way she blushed from head to toe when she was embarrassed. How she was more than willing to be crazy and have fun with him, no matter how juvenile it might be. The way her hand automatically found its way into his. The way she liked to dance through her kitchen in her socks and pajamas, all that red hair moving around her. How she would turn in her sleep to curl up against his chest, her head tucked under his chin and her arm around his waist, pulling him closer.

How she fit perfectly into his arms, as if she’d been molded just for him.

The way she’d sigh contentedly right before he kissed her.

The way she’d stare into his eyes for what seemed like hours before saying “I love you”.

Yeah, he missed her.

But he’d let her go.

He’d had to. It had made him miserable to be away from her. It had killed him to know that he couldn’t see her or talk to her whenever he wanted, that he couldn’t just take her wherever he wanted without security.

Of course, she’d never said a negative word. She’d been perfectly content to stay in, order pizza or Chinese and watch a movie. He’d apologized for it and she’d arched an eyebrow and given him that perfect grin, saying that she could cuddle with him a lot easier on her couch than she could in any theater or restaurant.

He’d never been much of a cuddler, but he’d come to long for the feel of her curled up against him, her arms around him and her head on his shoulder.

He hadn’t been able to take her to a fancy restaurant or dancing all that often, but she’d made up for it by coming up with several out-of-the-way, off-the-wall places to go. They’d discovered poetry readings, open mic nights and other stuff at little coffee shops where you sat in bean bag chairs on the floor and enjoyed the show. A movie theater that played classic eighties movies and only charged a dollar to get in. A bowling alley that offered black-light bowling and karaoke every night.

He’d loved every second that he was with her.

He’d loved her.

But the distance had been driving him crazy and he knew it had to have been getting to her as well.

So he’d offered her an out, hoping that she’d give him that exasperated look and tell him that he was crazy, that she didn’t want to see anybody else, that they’d work something out.

But she hadn’t fought it. She’d just studied him for several minutes before telling him that if that was what he wanted, then okay.

She’d leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, then sat back with a sad smile that dimmed the happy gleam that was always in her eyes.

“Whatever you want, Chris. You know that. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

She’d given him one last look and he could have sworn there were tears in her eyes, but that was impossible. She never cried.

She’d told him to be happy, then climbed out of the car, shut the door and walked away.

It was over. Just like that.

Just thinking about it brought the misery slamming back down on him.

“So, how’ve you been, Chris?”

Justin’s voice pulled him back from his thoughts.

He took a drink. “You just saw me two days ago, Curly.”

“Oh. Right. I guess I’m still used to seeing you guys every day.” He looked over at Chris expectantly. “So . . . how’ve you been?”

Chris sighed. “Same old, same old, I guess.” He looked toward the stage with a sad smile. “Still missing her. I actually went to see her show at Michael’s Monday night and sat in the back so she wouldn’t see me.” He met his younger friends’ eyes. “How pathetic is that?”

Justin grinned. “Not very. Man, if I was missing Lizzie, I’d be stalking her, too.”

“I’m not stalking her. Just . . . watching her.”

Justin’s eyes widened sarcastically. “Now that sounds much better, Chris.”

Lance rolled his eyes at him, then turned to Chris. “How is she?”

“She looks like she’s got everything under control. Typical Beth.”

“Chris, you know that she likes to try and keep everything to herself. No one can hide right in front of you better than Liz.”

He sat quietly for a moment. “She looked pale. And I think she’s lost a couple of pounds.”

Justin shook his head. “You should call her, man. She needs you.”

Lance’s eyebrows rose as he took in the dark circles under his friend’s eyes and the loose fabric of his shirt. “And you need her.”

Chris ran a hand over his face. “Right. Call her. And say what, exactly? I gave her an out if she wanted it . . . and she took it. I think that says plenty.”

Justin stared at him. “Chris, you told her that it was what you wanted and she went with it. What did you expect? She’s always given you what you wanted, no questions asked, no matter what it cost her. You can’t hold that against her, man.”

“I’m not holding anything against her. I’m just feeling like an idiot for letting it get out of hand.”

Lance grinned and took his plate from the waitress. “So call her. Apologize. Tell her that you’re an idiot. Get down on your knees and beg if you have to.”

Chris took a deep breath. “You think that would work?”

“It’s definitely a good place to start.”

Justin pointed at him with his fork. “Do it soon. Like, tonight. We need the old Chris back. This new you is . . . well, it’s depressing.”

“Okay, I’ll call her.”

The lights overhead dimmed and the stage lights came up.

“Later.”

----------------------------------------------------------

She checked her appearance once more in the mirror and a small smile spread across her face.

Her hair wasn’t the frizzy mess that it usually was. Tonight, she’d managed a sleek, wavy style that she’d pulled back with a gold clasp so that it hung in a loose ponytail to the middle of her back, with a few of the shorter strands curled and hanging loose, framing her face.

The light make-up she’d applied blended her red hair, green eyes and pale skin perfectly.

And the dress looked gorgeous.

She shook her head when she thought of how spritely she looked in her casual clothing.

At five feet and five inches, her petite frame was already childish and immature, but add to it the dark red hair and her deep green eyes and she looked like a modern-day leprechaun.

But not tonight.

Tonight, she was dressed to impress.

She grabbed up her folio of music, even though she would only be playing for one or two songs. The house band was an awesome one and they knew all of her usual set list by heart.

Tonight, however . . . would be special.

She made her way carefully down the back hallway and climbed the stairs to wait behind the curtain for her introduction.

Jason’s voice came over the loudspeakers. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’d like to welcome you out to Deep Blue tonight and hope that you’re ready for some high class entertainment. Our advertised act, Carlos Sanchez, was unable to be with us tonight due to a nasty run-in with a van door.”

Liz could feel the shift in the atmosphere of the room. The crowd had suddenly become uneasy, sounds of disappointment moving around the club.

The usual nerves started to kick in and she concentrated on steadying her breathing.

In . . . out . . . in . . . out . . .

Jason continued. “I know, folks. It’s a shame, but broken fingers do not a happy guitarist make. We’re making it up to you in a big way, with a very special lady. Please make welcome . . . Ms. Elizabeth Scott.”

The unease in the room dissipated immediately, applause thundering in the space, a few whistles making her grin.

She made sure that the band was in place, then walked out and up to the mic, launching right into the first number.

An hour passed in a blur as she went through several jazz numbers, a few of the classics and some current pop covers, putting everything she had into each and every song.

As the music from the last song of the set died away, she stayed to speak to the crowd.

“We’re going to take a short break, probably about twenty minutes or so, and when we come back, we’re going to do things a little differently. The next set is going to be solely audience requests. This house band is a good one, and I want to put them to the test. So write down a song and the artist on a piece of paper, hand it to your waiter and we’ll pick the numbers for the next set from a hat or a jar or whatever we can wrestle up. Thanks guys!”

She flashed a quick grin to the cheering audience and moved quickly away from the stage and down the stairs, ready for a cool drink and a few minutes out of her heels.

---------------------------------------------------------

“Please make welcome . . . Ms. Elizabeth Scott.”

He’d been shocked when her name had been announced, and when she’d walked out on the stage to start the first set, he’d had to fight for breath.

He glanced quickly between the two younger guys, but their expressions were just as surprised as his had been.

This wasn’t a set up. They honestly hadn’t known that she would be here.

Her voice floated through the room, through him, and all the tension slowly left his body.

He relaxed, moving his plate aside so that he could rest his elbow on the table and prop his chin in his hand as he watched her.

His eyes started at the top of her head and worked down.

That red hair he loved to run his fingers through.

The green eyes that he could stare into for hours.

The full lips that trembled until his own were steadying them.

The arms that fit perfectly around him.

The hands that fit perfectly in his.

The knees that he’d made weak more than once.

The entire package was the woman that had been created for him.

His Bethy.

No matter how long it had been, he still thought of her as his.

He still loved her . . . he’d never stopped.

She brought her hands up to the mic and the stage lights flashed off of her jewelry.

His eyes focused on her wrist and his heart jumped.

She was wearing his charm bracelet.

It was such a small thing, but it meant so much.

His eyes went back up to her face.

Her eyes were closed, her expression relaxed as she breezed through a Whitney cover.

And his confidence level tripled.

He was going to get her back.

Tonight.

A genuine smile spread across his face for the first time in a month and he picked up his fork, the appetite that had been absent returning with full force.

Several songs later, she was calling for the break and announcing the crowd’s choice for the next set before running backstage.

He flagged down one of the waiters and asked for a pen and some paper.

Justin looked over as he scribbled quickly on the slip of paper and handed it back to the waiter.

“What are you doing?”

Chris just smiled. “Getting her back.”

---------------------------------------------------------

She was just debating over whether or not she could get away with going back out there barefooted when Jason stuck his head through the door.

“Feeling adventurous tonight?” He asked with a grin.

“Nah. Just wanted something different for my last show.” She patted the couch next to her in invitation as she flexed her feet. “Think I could get away with losing the heels? My feet are killing me.”

He sat down next to her. “Stand up.”

She stood, and his eyes looked down at her feet.

“Your dress is long enough to come down to the floor, so lose the shoes. Just be careful when you’re walking.”

She sighed. “Great. You have no idea how distracting pinched toes are.”

He patted her leg and stood to leave. “Have fun out there.”

She grinned up at him. “I always do.”

“Two minutes!”

The call came through the door as he opened it, and she got up to grab a bottle of water and head down the hall to where the band was already taking the stage.

She waited for the house lights to come back down, then walked out onto the lit stage and pulled a stool up to the mic stand.

She looked over at the fish bowl that had been placed within arms reach and her eyes widened at the slips of paper.

“Wow. I don’t know if we’ll get to them all, but we’re going to do our best.”

The band successfully made it through fifteen songs, mostly slower pop numbers, before they hit a snag.

“Who in their right mind would want a club band to do ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’? Sorry, kids, but that’s not happening.”

She crumpled the slip of paper and dropped it into the discard pile before reaching for another one.

Her eyes trailed over the scribbled title and her blood froze, her stomach sinking in dread.

She closed her eyes and fought to fill her lungs with air.

She had to have been seeing things.

She looked at the slip again, but the song hadn’t changed.

And then she focused on the handwriting.

The very familiar handwriting.

She quickly scanned the few tables that she could see, but he wasn’t there.

Of course he wasn’t there. There wasn’t a reason for him to be there.

She got herself together and turned to show the slip to the band leader, who nodded.

She’d come up with this idea and she was going to see it through.

The opening bars of Journey’s ‘Faithfully’ came from the piano and she stood at the mic, her eyes sliding closed as she lost herself in the familiar tune, her body swaying with the lyrics.

Right down the line it's been you and me
And lovin' a music man ain't always what it's supposed to be
Oh, you stand by me
I'm forever yours
Faithfully

It was their song.

It had been more than two years ago, but she could still remember the night they’d first danced to it.

There, in his living room, in front of his fire place.

He’d turned the radio on and set the track to playing.

Then he’d pulled her into his arms and they’d swayed to the slow melody, his forehead against hers, their arms tight around each other, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair.

His eyes had been smiling as he’d leaned down to kiss her, whispering that he loved her.

In his arms, she’d felt loved . . . cherished.

His kiss . . . his kiss had made her feel complete.

As her hands had moved up from the back of his neck so that her fingers could slide into his hair, pulling him closer, she’d known that she was completely lost to him.

And being apart ain't easy on this love affair
Two strangers learn to fall in love again
I get the joy of rediscovering you
Oh, you stand by me
I'm forever yours
Faithfully

Her eyes opened and she stared out into the darkness of the club, the vision of the two of them dancing imprinted against the blackness.

Her hand came up and reached out as she sang the free-style ending, her fingers aching to touch the mirage.

Her eyes focused on her bracelet, on the charms that he’d picked out for her.

And then a tear escaped and trailed down her cheek.

The music ended and she stood there for a minute with her eyes closed as the club remained quiet for only a second before erupting with applause.

She forced a smile to her face and opened her eyes, releasing another tear.

She reached up to wipe the damp tracks away and took a deep breath.

“Sorry guys. Obviously, that song means something to me.”

She moved over to stand beside the piano.

“Let’s just say that I’ll never understand men and leave it at that.”

Light laughter sprinkled around the crowd.

She tapped the guy sitting at the piano on the shoulder.

“Hop up, Ben. I’ve got the last song.”

She situated herself on the piano bench, adjusting her long skirt so that her feet could touch the pedals without tangling in the fabric.

“I want to thank you guys for coming out tonight. As most of you know, this is my last show for Deep Blue.”

She paused when a rustle of sound traveled around the audience.

“Actually, it’s my last show here in Orlando. As much as I love O-Town . . . there’s too much history attached to it. I lost myself along the way. I need to get the me I once knew back. I need a fresh start.” She swallowed hard, fighting to keep the tears at bay. “I’m finally strong enough to make the move. So . . . I guess you could say that I’m moving on to greener pastures.”

She sighed and let a shaky smile spread across her face.

“Or brighter pastures, anyway. Vegas is calling my name. Maybe I’ll find myself somewhere in the bright lights.” She looked down at the music folio in front of her. “Anyway, I wanted to make this show special.”

She flipped through the sheet music as she spoke, looking for one song in particular.

“Over the last couple of years, I’ve brought out quite a few of my original songs. I’ve always equated the songs I write with one of my many nicknames, whichever one I think best fits it. I’ve introduced some Liz originals, some Lizzie originals and even a few Beth originals.”

She finally found the pages she was looking for and pulled them out.

“Tonight, I’m bringing material that comes from the part of me that only one person has ever seen.”

She put her fingers on the keys and began playing the opening melodies.

“This is a Bethy original and it goes out to Christopher, wherever he is tonight.”

Hope life's been good to you since you've been gone
I'm doin' fine now, I've finally moved on
It's not so bad, I'm not that sad

I'm not surprised just how well I survived
I'm over the worst and I feel so alive
I can't complain, I'm free again

And it only hurts when I'm breathing
My heart only breaks when it's beating
My dreams only die when I'm dreaming
So, I hold my breath to forget

Don't think I'm lyin' 'round cryin' at night
There's no need to worry, I'm really all right
I've never looked back, as a matter of fact

And it only hurts when I'm breathing
My heart only breaks when it's beating
My dreams only die when I'm dreaming
So, I hold my breath to forget

It only hurts when I breathe

Mmm, no, I've never looked back, as a matter fact

And it only hurts when I'm breathing
My heart only breaks when it's beating
My dreams only die when I'm dreaming
So, I hold my breath to forget

Hurts when I'm breathing
Breaks when it's beating
Die when I'm dreaming

It only hurts when I breathe

She sat there for a minute, her eyes closed and her head bowed as the final chord resonated and faded away. Then she lifted her head and smiled at the crowd.

“You guys have been a dream. Be safe. Be happy. And look me up if you’re ever in Vegas.”

She stood, gathered up her pages and took a bow as she heard the crowd rise to its feet, applauding and cheering.

“Good night!”

She gave one final wave, then turned and quickly left the stage.

She raced down the back hall and into the dressing room, slamming the door and leaning against it before allowing herself to dissolve into helpless tears.

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“. . . look me up if you’re ever in Vegas.”

He was frozen, his feet refusing to move.

She was leaving?

Her words were ricocheting around in his head and he had to shake his head to get past them.

“Hey, don’t space out now, man.”

He looked over at Justin, who was pushing on his shoulder.

“Go after her.”

“But . . .”

“No buts.” Lance interrupted him. “When the whole mess went down, she told you to be happy. You know what makes you happy, Chris. All you’ve got to do now is go and get it.”

“She’s leaving.”

“Right.” Justin pushed him harder. “She thinks it’s what she needs to do. But you and I both know that if anyone can make her stay, it’s you. She loves you, Chris. She needs you.”

“Go, Chris.” Lance pointed to the side of the stage. “Don’t make us drag you back there.”

Chris took a deep breath and took off at a jog, pushing his way through the crowd and into the backstage area.

He was halfway down the hall when a body stepped in front of him, making him stop in his tracks.

“Whoa. Hey, man, you aren’t supposed to be . . .” Jason’s eyes widened in recognition. “Oh, my Lord. When she sees you, she’s going to . . . well, I don’t really know what she’s going to do.”

Chris offered him a grin as he inched past. “Hey, Jason. How’s it going?”

Jason reached out and grabbed his arm, holding him still. “It’s been . . . difficult lately. What are you doing here, Chris?”

“I think it’s pretty obvious as to why I’m here.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea, man. Maybe you should leave.”

“No. I’m not leaving.” He looked down where Jason’s hand gripped his arm. “Let me go.”

Jason reluctantly released him. “You really hurt her, Chris . . .”

“Jason, there’s no way that you can make me feel any worse about the whole thing than I already do.” Chris looked down the hallway, his eyes freezing on the familiar door. “I screwed up. I threw away the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I know that.” He shook his head. “But I have to fix it. I have to set everything right again.”

Jason stood firm, his arms crossing over his chest. “Why?”

“Because I love her. And I can’t let her go. Not again.”

A relieved smile spread across Jason’s face. “Well, then . . . what are you standing around here for?” He motioned down the hallway. “Get moving.”

“Thanks.”

He’d started moving on down the hall when Jason’s voice stopped him again.

“Chris . . . make her happy.”

He turned back with a smile. “That’s the plan. That was always the plan.”

He stopped outside her door and raised his hand to knock, but let it drop back down to his side.

He leaned his head back taking deep breaths as he tried to gather his thoughts.

In . . . out . . . in . . . out . . .

He groaned, his hands coming up to cover his face.

Here he was, standing just a few feet away from the woman who meant more than anything to him, separated by nothing more than a door.

And he had absolutely no idea what to say to get her back.

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In . . . out . . . in . . . out . . .

Whoever it was that said that deep breathing was a relaxation technique should be dragged out into the street and shot.

The only good it was doing her was making her feel hyperventilated.

Frustrated, she wiped away the tears and stepped away from the door.

She looked down and her eyes fell on a piece of paper that was clinging to the sequins of her dress.

She reached down and pulled it away from the fabric, her fingers trembling as she saw the familiar handwriting again.

She looked more closely at the note and flipped it over to read the scribbling on the back.

Do you remember, Bethy? Please tell me you remember.

Her heart stopped for a second.

It had been him.

He’d been there. In the crowd.

She shook her head.

He’d been in the crowd, might even still be in the building . . . and she was standing here doing absolutely nothing about it.

She looked back at the note.

Please tell me you remember.

Of course she remembered. She remembered all too well.

She’d given him what he wanted.

“But what about what I want?” She spoke aloud to the empty room.

She knew the answer to that as surely as she knew her own name.

Forget Vegas. Forget the opportunities out there in the bright lights. Forget that she’d already broken the lease on her apartment.

She wanted him.

If he’d just hold her again, she’d gladly forget all of it.

She’d stay . . . with him.

Please tell me you remember.

The words gave her confidence and she made up her mind.

She was going to get him back.

She gathered up her skirt so that she could move quickly and headed for the door, her new-found determination making her hurry.

The only thing she wasn’t sure of was what she would do first when she found him.

It was pretty much narrowed down to either hugging him or punching his lights out.

Either way, she’d make sure that he did a fair amount of groveling before the kissing and making up began.

Or maybe she’d just skip directly to the kissing and making up.

She could hear her mother’s nagging voice now, scolding her for making it so easy for him.

That thought brought a smile to her lips as she pulled the door open, ready to bolt down the hall and into the dining area.

But her path was blocked.

By him.

The smile fell from her face as she halted her steps, her skirt falling back down around her feet as her grip loosened.

They stood there, staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity.

His black pants and blue dress shirt hung loosely on him, his belt pulled a notch or two tighter than usual . . . painful evidence that he’d been faring about as well as she had.

He was . . . beautiful.

She crossed her arms over her chest as she tilted her head, just listening to him breathe.

In . . . out . . . in . . . out . . .

The soft sound brought back memories of watching movies on her couch and falling asleep in his arms, of slow dances, and of those kisses that told her more than he ever could with words alone.

She watched him as his eyes moved over her from head to toe and back again.

“Well?” She arched an eyebrow at him, breaking the silence. “Are you going to come in or are you just going to stand there and gawk at me?”

He stepped forward and into the room, his lips twitching as he tried not to smile.

She closed the door behind him, then crossed her arms again, his note still clutched in her right hand.

“Beth, I . . .” At a loss for what to say, his voice trailed off.

A small smile curved her lips. “You have no idea what to say, do you?”

His eyes were pleading with her. “There’s so much I need to say, but I don’t have a clue where to start.”

“How about something along the lines of ‘I was an idiot and I’m sorry’ for starters?”

“I was an idiot and I am sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But Beth . . . that’s just the beginning.”

“Never mind all that.”

“But . . .”

“Chris, if you feel that you need to explain it to me, then I’ll let you . . . but all I really need is an apology.”

He shook his head. “That’s not good enough for me, though. I want . . .”

She stepped forward and brought her hands up to his face, pulling him down to silence him with her lips.

He inhaled sharply, then relaxed, his arms going around her, holding her tightly to him as he put everything he had into the kiss, telling her without words how sorry he was, how much he missed her.

She pulled away slowly, her eyes opening to meet his.

He kept his arms around her, a small smile forming on his lips.

“I’ve been dreaming about that for weeks.”

She smiled, her hands moving around so that her fingers could play with the short hair above his collar. “All you had to do was call, Chris.”

He sighed, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers. “I didn’t think it would be that easy.” He shook his head, making her move as well. “I don’t deserve to have you go easy on me, Beth.”

“Maybe not.” She grinned. “But the way I figure it, there’s no point in being mad or making you work for it when we could save so much time and energy by just letting it be.”

His eyes widened playfully. “I can just hear your mom now . . .”

She laughed. “Yeah, me too. Besides, you’re going to have plenty of chances to make it up to me.”

His eyes turned serious. “Whatever you want, Bethy. Name it and it’s yours.”

She arched an eyebrow at him playfully. “Well, kissing me again would be a good start.”

He grinned, then gladly obliged, kissing her deeply, his heart skipping a beat when he heard that familiar sigh.

His fingers combed through her ponytail as she laid her head on his shoulder, her arms moving down to wrap around his waist.

“Holding me is a good thing, too.”

He could feel her smile against his neck. “No problem, babe. I think I’ve got that one covered.”

“But later . . . you’ll have to help me find an apartment.”

She could feel him tense up before he responded.

“Right. An apartment. In Vegas.” He took a deep breath. “We kinda need to talk about that, don’t we?”

“Wait. Chris . . .”

“I know . . . you’ve already got plans.” He pulled back to smile at her, his eyes sad. “I can deal. It’ll take some getting used to, but it shouldn’t be much different than what we already have going, right?”

She stepped away from him. “I’m not . . .”

“I mean . . . I’m already gone quite a bit, so I’ll just have to make sure that we get stops scheduled out there.”

He stopped when she raised an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms.

“What?”

“I’m not going to Vegas, Chris.”

She could see the relief on his face. “You’re not?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m not.”

“But what about . . . when did you change your mind?”

“When I read your note . . .” Her voice trailed off as she looked around for the piece of paper. “Wherever it got to.”

“It doesn’t matter.” His hand came up to play with a loose strand of her hair as he smiled at her. “Nothing matters except that you’re staying . . . and things are right again.”

“Things might be right again, but I’m still going to have to find a place to live, Chris.”

“What’s wrong with the apartment you’re in now?”

She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Smart me was set on leaving Monday, so I went ahead and broke my lease. The new renters move in on Wednesday, so I definitely have to be out by Tuesday.” She grinned. “What can I say? I’m a genius.”

He looked down, his hand moving so that his fingers could play with her bracelet, smiling at the shapes. “Forget the apartment. Just move in with me.”

She froze in surprise. “Move in with you?”

His fingers stopped on the circle charm and he grinned, his eyes coming up to meet hers. “Yeah. I’ve got plenty of room. We were going to get to that point anyway.”

Her eyebrows arched. “We were?”

He brought her wrist up so that she could see her bracelet, letting his fingers lace through hers. “No matter what happens, it all comes back to you. To you and me. Everything comes around full circle, and it ends up back at us.” He smiled as he brought up his other hand to flick at the circle charm. “Six months ago, I was already to a point where I couldn’t think about the future without seeing you there. I started thinking about forever.”

He laughed softly when her eyes widened.

“Yeah, it was a scary thought . . . at first. But then it became second nature to think that way.” He turned her hand so that he could kiss the back of her fingers. “Six months ago . . . I knew it wouldn’t be fair to you if I tried to take that step. We were in the middle of a tour and life was nuts. Now we’re in the middle of recording, so things are still crazy. I know that it’s unfair to do anything about it even now. But one day . . . it’s going to calm down. The fame is going to die down and we won’t be expected to be in twelve different places at once.”

She took a deep breath. “But Chris, we just . . .”

“I wanted to be fair to you, Beth. That’s why I did it. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that, even though having you was what made me happy, it was selfish thinking on my part. I needed to give you the opportunity to go for something different . . . to try out other things. It broke my heart . . . it absolutely killed me to do it, but I had to be fair to you.” He ran a finger over the dark circles under her eyes and down her pale cheek. “From the looks of it, I’d say neither of us fared too well.”

She smiled as she plucked at his loose clothing with her free hand. “Yeah . . . it looks that way.”

“When it dies down . . . when the fame is over, when the crazy schedules end, when I’m not running around in circles . . . I want you to be there, Beth.” He took hold of her free hand, so their fingers were laced there as well. “I really don’t think I’d make it if you weren’t there.”

She looked at their hands for a moment before raising her eyes to his. “Chris . . . are you asking me to marry you?”

“Not right now, no. Although, if you were willing and I was able, I’d get down on one knee right now and marry you tomorrow.”

“And if I was willing?”

He laughed at her arched eyebrow. “If you were willing, I still wouldn’t be able.” He sighed. “Things are just starting to swing up again. We’re deep in the recording. We’ll finalize and release the album, plan at least two tours, and work on promoting. We’re going to be tied up for at least a year and a half. No, it wouldn’t be fair for me to make you wait that long to make it official.”

She tilted her head, her eyebrow still raised. “So . . . what are you doing, exactly?”

“I’m making you a promise. I’m promising that one day I’m going to put a larger version of that charm on your finger.” He released her hands so that he could put his arms around her. “I’m going to make you mine.”

She smiled and hugged her arms around his neck. “I’m already yours.”

He smiled and met her eyes. “I’m going to make you mine, Beth. Legally, emotionally, physically and any other way possible. I’ll give you my name and everything else that comes with it. We’ll have the proverbial white picket fence and two-point-five kids.”

Her eyes widened again. “You want kids?”

He ran a finger down the side of her face, his expression serious. “Only if I can share them with you.”

Her face softened into a dreamy smile at the thought. “You’ll be a great dad, Chris.”

“And you’ll be a great mom.” He grinned at her expression, his hand coming to rest at the side of her neck. “But we’re getting ahead of ourselves here.”

“Right.” She tried to gather her thoughts. “Where were we?”

He laughed quietly. “We were at my getting you to move in with me.”

“Oh, right.” She paused for a moment, an evil grin spreading across her face. “How persuasive are you willing to be?”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “As persuasive as I have to be.”

He leaned down, his thumb moving back and forth along her jaw, letting himself get lost in her eyes before covering her lips with his, pulling her as close as he possibly could.

As her hands moved up and into his hair, the only things existing in the room were the two of them . . .

And this moment of joined, shared breathing.

In . . . out . . .