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“And now, to sing us into the New Year with his upcoming single, ‘Worth the Wait’…” he says.

The woman holds up her hand to point in my direction, and suddenly I’m blinded by the mega-bright stage lights as they blast on. “Kash Murray.”

The man peers down at a piece of paper Barry hands him. “And Paisley Morgan.”

My heart thuds as I blink, trying to clear my vision enough to see. I give Paisley’s hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go so I can play the intro.

“One, hold your horses,

Two, hold the train,

I’m standing out here in the pouring rain.

Three blocks down

Four over from Main

I’m waiting and waiting for you again.”

I look out into the audience, relieved to see people dancing. They might be drunk or overexcited because the countdown is on, but they are moving and grooving. There’s a change in the air, like it’s been charged with energy.

Paisley stands stiff like a statue, and there’s a pained expression on her face. She plucks at the bracelets on her wrist, and I nudge her to get her attention. When our eyes meet, I smile and play the pre-chorus guitar riff. I don’t break eye contact with her as we both step to the mic to sing.

“ ’Cause you’re

One, two, three minutes late…

Four, five, six, then seven and eight.

Other guys, well, they might be irate.”

Paisley gives me a warm smile before she looks out at the audience with wide, worried eyes. Then her eyes are back on mine as we finish the chorus.

“But you—

You’re worth the wait.”

As soon as I can step back from the mic, I signal for the other guitarist to vamp while I check on Paisley.

“Are you doing okay?” I ask.

She forces down a swallow and nods.

“You don’t have to stay out here, you know.”

Paisley looks tempted. But she shakes her head. “I want to see it through.”

Still, her dark, frightened eyes don’t leave mine as we return to center stage and she jumps in to sing the next verse.

“Five o’clock shadow,

Six o’clock news,

Coolin’ my heels, no time to lose.”

Paisley’s warm, breathy voice mixes perfectly with mine. We sing facing each other, ignoring the cameras, the audience, the rest of the world. This moment is ours.

The song finishes to a round of boisterous applause and a few hoots and hollers. We’ve finished the song just in time, because as soon as it quiets, the countdown begins.