Once Upon A Sure Thing

by Blakely, Lauren

  “Is he not allowed to have Goldfish and milk?” I ask, scratching my jaw. “That’s kind of harsh.”

  “It’s so harsh,” Ben says, stomping his foot.

  Miles huffs and answers both of us. “He’s allowed to have milk and Goldfish. He’s not allowed to order them from room service without my permission.”

  My hand flies to my belly, and I crack up. “You called room service to order milk and Goldfish crackers?”

  “Daddy was in the shower. I was super hungry. Haven’t you ever been super hungry before?”

  “Little dude, I’m super hungry all the time.” I bend to one knee and ruffle his hair, then turn to my brother. “If you have a five-year-old who already knows how to call room service, your life is a good life.”

  Miles relents somewhat. “I know. It’s not a big deal. But I have to have some rules. Some expectations, you know?”

  I nod. “Sure. I hear you.”

  Miles sets a big hand on Ben’s small shoulder. “Of course you’re going to be super hungry at times, and I don’t even mind if you call room service. But you know the rules. You just have to ask me first.”

  Ben’s bottom lip quivers. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’ll ask you next time.”

  Miles beams. “I love you, little man, and that’s why I have rules for you.”

  “I’ll do a better job following them. I promise.”

  “I know you will.”

  Ben offers his hand to shake. “It’s a deal.”

  “I accept your deal.” Miles takes Ben’s hand and yanks him in for a hug. Seeing my little brother so affectionate with his son, as he’s always been, makes my heart kick. He’s done everything for his boy, all with no mom on the scene.

  “I love you to Pluto and back,” Miles says.

  “I love you to infinity and beyond.”

  “I love you to the depths of the oceans and all the way to the sky.”

  It’s too sweet, and I need some of that loving. I need a contact high. “What am I? Chopped liver? Give me some of that sugar.”

  Ben rushes over and hugs my waist. “I love you, Uncle Miller. I’m going to miss you when we’re in London, but I know I’ll see you again soon. The tour is only a few weeks.”

  “You’ll see me soon. That’s a promise, and I love you too. I love you like crazy.”

  Miles chuckles.

  I meet his gaze. “And I love you too, Dodgeball. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

  As his suite at the Luxe becomes a gigantic lovefest, an idea knocks on my skull. A little tap at first, then louder, more insistent. It’s fueled by these two knuckleheads and the way they love.

  All I need now is a plan.

  Fortunately, there’s a date on my calendar that feels perfect for a target.

  Chapter 31

  Miller

  Part of the plan is making sure Ally knows I’ll always be her friend, first and foremost. Even if we never become anything more, I want her to feel the same certainty with me that Ben feels with his dad.

  I want her to feel safe and confident.

  I text her that night.

  Miller: At the end of time, is it best to be aligned with robots or zombies?

  Ally: Talk about a hard question . . . Battling both was exhausting. Ultimately, zombies are the worst. (PS: I was just about to text you.)

  Miller: PS: Mind meld. Also, zombies are absolutely the worst.

  Ally: But robots are quite totalitarian. So pick your poison.

  Miller: I’ll take door number three, please.

  Ally: Good choice. Also, it’s really nice to hear from you.

  Miller: Did you think I would disappear?

  Ally: Honestly?

  Miller: Why would I want you to be anything but honest?

  Inside, though, I’m a coiled ball of tension. I hope to God she knew I’d text—just because our benefits arrangement ended, it wouldn’t change my role in her life. I need her to know I’m not simply fun-and-games Miller. That I’m the guy she can depend on.

  Ally: Honestly, I never doubted it. Or you. But I also still LOVE it.

  She didn’t say she loves me. But loving it—hearing from me—is a good start.

  Miller: I’m glad you know you can depend on me. Also, I have big news here at Casa Hart!

  Ally: Tell me, tell me!

  Miller: I scored a foosball table.

  Ally: Finally! Can’t wait to play it.

  Miller: You have an open invite.

  Ally: And did you say goodbye to Miles and Ben?

  Miller: Yeah, and I miss them already.

  Ally: Aww. Hopefully, they can visit again soon. Also, I want to tell you something.

  Miller: Speak now, please. :)

  Ally: I like being friends with you. I was sad today, missing what we’d had. But I’m glad to know we can still talk like this.

  Miller: You can count on me, Ally.

  Ally: Same here. You can count on me, Miller.

  I slump into my couch pillows, a little pang in my chest over the prospect of being just friends with her. But I sit up again, because I need to be happy with just friends. We might only ever be friends. And I’m going to be fine with that, even though I want more. For now, I start to tap out goodnight, but another message from her pops up.

  Ally: OMG, did you see this?

  Miller: See what?

  Ally: Gah! This is the cutest thing ever!

  I wait for her reply, willing it to come faster. What is she talking about? Otters holding paws? A cat playing the piano? Come to think of it, that would be impressive.

  I swipe my thumb over the dial pad to call her when a video appears in my text.

  The thumbnail looks like it’s from a coffee shop. I hit play, and I’m transported back to the day Campbell and I listened to auditions at Dr. Insomnia’s before playing an impromptu number that the woman who wore the maroon hat caught on camera. She’d said she wouldn’t post it, but I guess she caved.

  As I watch, I smile, because Ally and I are going to sing that song in two nights at our gig. I let my mind replay all the times we’ve sung it before. All the times we’ve sung other songs, both covers and originals. There’s something there. Something more than chemistry. More than an itch that needed to be scratched.

  I go to YouTube, and I look up one of Ally’s most famous videos—when she and Kirby sang “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” mashed up with “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”

  What if we could be a mash-up—friends and lovers?

  There’s only one way to find out.

  Chapter 32

  Ally

  I reread the texts the next morning.

  They’re just texts, but they’re also so much more.

  They’re Miller and me being, well, Miller and me.

  They tell me we can go back to the way we were.

  But when I shower, I remember Miller’s hands in my hair, and when Chloe and I board the subway, I recall every time I’ve taken the train with him. When we walk toward Bryant Park, and I think of all the times Miller has met me here, there, and everywhere in this city, I know my brother was right.

  Miller’s committed, and so am I. Sure, our singing agreement might have a deadline, but our friendship never has. We never have. And if I don’t let him know I want this new us, we’ll never get the chance to work out if Miller and Ally could be a couple with no deadline.

  But how the heck do I tell him?

  Do I send him a letter? Knock on his door? Do a tap dance?

  I push the thoughts aside to zero in on Chloe’s project.

  “I think the lion is going to be perfect,” Chloe says, as she angles closer to the statues guarding the building entrance and snaps a photo. She shows it to me on the screen on the back of her camera.

  I give her a thumbs-up. “I heartily approve.”

  We’re at the New York Public Library because she wanted to take pictures of it for her photography class, and because she wants to check out a book.

 
; She grabs my hand as we head up the steps. “Can you recommend a good young adult story? You might know one or two.”

  “Just a few.” I chuckle. “What are you in the mood for? Dystopian tales? Space battles? Epic sagas of magic and vengeance? Contemporary teens dealing with everyday loss and love?”

  Her green eyes twinkle. “The last one. Ideally with a heroine cool like you.”

  “Ooh, cool like me.”

  “I speak the truth.”

  “Keep speaking it,” I say, and as we head inside, Chloe takes more photos.

  Once we check out several books, we wander down Fifth Avenue, passing a Christmas display at a boutique.

  “Do you know what you’re getting Miller for Christmas?” she asks.

  “Nope. Any ideas?”

  “You could always get him Skittles. You could get him a lifetime supply of hot chocolate. Or you could get him a new version of Bananagrams, since he likes all those things.”

  “Santa could hire you as an elf.”

  “Or you could get him something else. What’s the thing he wants most in the world?” she asks as we stop at a light.

  Instantly, I know the answer.

  * * *

  I do some research to confirm my theory. I want to be certain. I also want to be armed. Like a lawyer, I prep to make a case before the jury of one. I gather my evidence. I call upon my best witnesses.

  The first order of business is to visit Mackenzie.

  She’s not even surprised when I tell her my idea. “It’s brilliant,” she declares.

  But she’s not the only one I need on board.

  Fortunately, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from all the books I’ve narrated, it’s that a heroine must line up her troops. We head across town to Murray Hill—Chloe, Mackenzie, and me. Campbell is teaching a violin lesson, but Samantha is home. She’s making cherry jam cookies for her Instagram show, and they smell mouthwateringly good.

  I tell her my idea.

  She claps and practically bounces to the ceiling, like a spring-loaded Tigger.

  Then we execute the plan, and if this works, there’s a certain person who’s going to be out of his mind with happiness tomorrow night.

  * * *

  When I kiss Chloe goodnight, she’s still a little giddy from our secret plans. “I love your idea, Ally. Will you text me as soon as it happens? Unless you’ve changed your mind and I can come to the show?”

  “Sorry, Monkey. You’ll have fun at Hailey’s. I’ll text you, though, as soon as it happens.”

  She hugs me, and I feel a sense of peace. I can’t save her from the world, but I can make sure her world with me is safe.

  I’ve decided to stop worrying about my ability to take care of her. I’m doing a fierce and fabulous job as her parent.

  And nothing and no one will ever change that.

  Chapter 33

  Miller

  At the club the next night, I smooth a hand over my T-shirt in front of the mirror in the men’s room.

  “Shoulda worn a sweet suit, man,” Jackson says, sweeping his eyes over me.

  “I’m a T-shirt kind of guy.”

  “I know, but sometimes you need to break out the swank. A silver blazer and sleek black pants.”

  “I would think that’d make it obvious. I want some subtlety.”

  “Fair enough. You are one subtle rocker, then, and you rock a T-shirt.”

  He’s seventeen so he shouldn’t be here, but the owner made an exception for his documentary, and has required Jackson to wear a plastic bracelet so no one serves him as he shoots videos.

  I looked down at my outfit. Jeans, motorcycle boots, and a T-shirt. It’s how I dress. I want to be myself. I want to be the guy that I hope Ally wants.

  When she arrives, she’s Honey Lavender. Blonde glam wig. Luscious top. Pouty lips and dark eyes.

  But it didn’t take her dressing as Honey for me to fall in love with her. It took her convincing me to sing with her. It took getting close to her like that to make me realize she’s the one I’ve wanted all along.

  I feel like I’ve drunk ten cups of coffee, and I don’t like the stuff. But I’m amped up and jittery, hoping she wants all the same things I do. Hoping I’m not wrong in thinking she might.

  As we head to the stage, I whisper, “We have a crowd.”

  She nods nervously, wringing her hands.

  “Hey,” I say softly, reaching for her arm. “It’s going to be great.”

  “It is,” she says, as if she’s reassuring herself.

  We head onstage, and I introduce us quickly. “I’m Miller Hart and this is Ally Zimmerman, and together we’re Hot Stuff. And this is our first number.”

  We slide into our original tune, “Maybe.” We sing it like we did at the studio, like it’s only us. We sing like Virtue and Moir skate, like we want each other. Based on the cheers and hollers, the audience likes us as much here as they do online, and I’m stoked.

  My eyes take a most enjoyable stroll up and down Ally’s body, savoring the chance to drink her in. I stop at her waist, and blink—she wasn’t wearing that before. The red polka-dot ribbon I tied her up with the other night is playing the role of a belt.

  Kill me now.

  I move closer and wrap a hand around her hip, fingering the silky fabric of the ribbon. Tugging her near to me, I brush my lips along her neck, and the audience goes crazy. They love how we are together.

  I love how we are together.

  And I hope to heaven and back that she feels all the same things. I pray that the way she trembles in my arms isn’t simply because the song is sexy, but because we are sexy together.

  And because we should be together.

  As soon as the song nears the end, I’m ready to lay out my heart. To tell her before the whole crowd that I want to go all in. I want her and Chloe, a package deal. All strings attached. I want rules and expectations. She doesn’t think friends with benefits is a good idea, and neither do I. I want more, and by showing her this way, by declaring it in front of the world, I hope she sees that I’m a risk worth taking. That we’re more than benefits.

  We’re a sure thing.

  But when the music ends, she walks offstage.

  Chapter 34

  Ally

  My heart pounds in my throat. Nerves speed through the freeways of my body as I dart from the stage like a runaway singer. Mackenzie waits for me in the wings and takes my hand. Her smile is radiant.

  “Did Miller look shocked?” I ask.

  “Completely.”

  “And what about . . .?”

  “He feels great. I think seeing Miller sing with you has dredged up memories of how good it can be when you find your perfect singing partner. He was missing this kind of chance. You’ve given it to him.”

  My heart beats a million miles an hour, and I want so badly for Miller to understand that I’m not walking away from the band.

  Even though I am.

  What I’m really doing is giving him his heart’s true desire.

  When I watched the video from the coffee shop, and the one from the recording studio earlier in the week, and then my mental replay of how the brothers sang together at Campbell’s apartment, I knew that this is what Miller truly wants.

  Mackenzie and I reach the dance floor in seconds, as Campbell strides onto the stage. Taking my place, he strums the most familiar opening chords in the history of the Heartbreakers.

  Miller’s smile isn’t the toothpaste variety now, and it’s not the naughty one I’ve seen after-hours. It’s the blue sky on a crystal-clear afternoon. His face is a thousand sunny days.

  I practically jump for joy, loving that the happiest guy I’ve ever known is now even happier.

  My own smile spreads to the moon and back as I cheer so loud my voice will be hoarse tomorrow. I’m not alone. Everyone is shouting and screaming. This is what it means when a crowd goes wild.

  They might have liked Miller and me. But this is true love. This is when music is m
agic and a love that lasts through all the years.

  Chapter 35

  Miller

  It’s happened. Science fiction has warped with reality, and I’ve entered an alternate universe.

  One where my brother Campbell is jamming onstage with me.

  Not in front of the kids at Christmas, but before a motherfucking audience. What the hell is happening?

  He flashes me a grin. I have no clue what’s going on. But I go with it, because that’s what you do when you perform. We do it in style, belting out “Love Me Like Crazy.”

  The audience hollers, and their energy is bigger and brighter than it was when I was here with Ally minutes ago. This is an epic cry of excitement. Of pure glee.

  I have no idea why Campbell’s here, but I’m having a blast singing the tune we wrote when we were sixteen and seventeen, jamming in our garage at our home in Jersey after convincing our parents they should let us be a band.

  We don’t sing it to each other, all sexy and hot like Ally and I do. Please.

  We sing it to the crowd, like we’ve always done. That’s what they want. That’s what I want too. There’s something special in the air. When I play with Campbell, the magic isn’t in how we look at each other. It’s in the music, and how we make the music together. It’s coming home.