Dex came out to Newport to help me pack up and make the move, and we spent our first full night together in my bed. When we woke up the next morning, the sun streaming through my bedroom window, he’d wrapped me in his arms and told me how grateful he was for me, how much he loved me, and how he would do everything he could to be the man I deserved.
I was back at home before Thanksgiving, and since my place had never sold, we were next door neighbors again—although we spent every night he didn’t have the girls in the same bed.
“I definitely agree you guys are the real deal,” Ellie said, reaching for her margarita. “It’s just that I don’t recall any sort of condition on the bet. You swore off men—all men, even soul mates—until Christmas. And I believe it was sometime in October I heard you declaring your love.”
“After everything I’ve done for you, you’re going to make me get up there?” I cried. “I saved you from dealing with brides every day! I rescued you from your mother!”
In a fabulous stroke of luck, Ellie’s parents had decided to go through with their dream of spending extended time in France—which meant Abelard needed a new events manager. When she heard I might be moving back, she called me and asked if I’d be interested in taking over the job. I’d jumped at the chance, not only because it would mean working where Ellie did, but because I’d always loved Abelard Vineyards. It was half the size of Cloverleigh Farms, and much less majestic than The Alexander, but it was intimate and romantic, and my first month there had been a delight.
Ellie pretended to consider this as she sipped her drink. “You did save me from brides, that’s true. And my mother is off my back since you came on board.”
“See?”
“But no.” Her eyes gleamed. “I still want the song.”
I glared at her. “You’ve watched way too many episodes of Friends.”
“True,” she admitted. “But I’m not sorry.”
The previous singer left the stage, and the emcee called my name. Everyone around us shouted and clapped. “Come on, Winnie!” Millie yelled.
“Winnie! Winnie! Winnie!” Hallie and Luna chanted.
“I’ll pay you,” I said desperately.
Ellie laughed and shook her head. “Get up there, MacAllister.”
Dex patted my shoulder. “Break a leg, babe.”
Reluctantly, I stood up. “If I pull the fire alarm, will you still love me?”
He shoved me toward the stage.
My eyes sought out the red EXIT sign over to one side of the room and I honestly considered making a run for it. But instead, I put my shoulders back, held my head up, and mounted the stage.
Taking the mic, I wished for the millionth time I could sing.
Over at his laptop, the emcee looked at me, and even though my knees were knocking, my hands shook, and my mouth felt drier than the Sahara, I nodded.
The music began, and I put the mic to my lips and tried to find the right notes.
“Her name was Lola.”
My family and friends hooted and hollered encouragement, but I wanted to die. My pitch was even worse than usual because I was so nervous.
“She was a showgirl.”
I looked at Ellie, who was laughing so hard, tears were streaming down her face. I caught Dex’s eye, and he winked, stuck his fingers in his mouth, and whistled loudly. Hallie and Luna had jumped out of their chairs and were dancing between the tables. My mother looked mortified for me, but all four of my sisters and my dad were on their feet, cheering me on.
Not because I was good—I was really, really bad—but because they loved me and supported me no matter what. Somehow it was enough to get me through the song, and thankfully, people had started to sing along, so I didn’t feel so alone.
By the end of the tune, I was laughing too, and when it was over, the place erupted with applause—I’m sure many in the room were just happy it was done. I handed the mic back to the emcee and quickly ran back to my seat. Flushed, I sat down and grabbed my margarita for a huge gulp.
“That was everything I wanted it to be,” Ellie said, still wiping tears.
“It wasn’t terrible?” I said in surprise.
“Oh no, it was terrible,” she assured me. “But I loved it.”
“You were very brave,” Dex said, clinking his beer bottle to my glass. “And even though I’m so grateful you went through that for me, I’m going to have to ask you not to gamble anymore. My eardrums can’t take it.”
“No worries.” I held up my hands. “My betting days are over.”