by Layne, Sandi
LeeAnn nodded. “Always good to keep the men on their toes.”
Bethany laughed a little, as if unsure if she would be allowed to participate in the discussion. Then, after Mac nodded at her, she said, “Mike likes to think he’s the most capable guy anywhere, like a superhero without a cape. Like his crazy schedule gives him a good reason to be weird. I just ask him to pick me up some ice cream if he’s on his way to me from, like, anywhere. I always ask for the most outlandish flavor, too.” Bethany darted a glance toward Mac. “You ever do that?”
“I’d never get away with it. I’ll have to give it some thought to trying it, now!”
After another round of drinks, Mac got up. “I’m gonna see what’s taking the meat so long. Be right back.”
Behind her, she heard a sudden increase in conversation and almost turned back to ask the women what they had to say that had to wait until she was gone. Gossip? About her? That offended her, but she kept her frown hidden as she crossed to the grill where the men were.
Only to find they, too, were talking, with her dad nearly shouting, “What?” just before she could get close enough to hear what they were saying.
I could swear it was my birthday or something, she mused, irritated. She tossed her head to look once more at the Girl Table, only to see all of them beaming at her and, it seemed, at Derek and Mac figured she had a handle on what that was all about. Okay, so everyone’s all happy for us. Fair enough. I know the girls have given me enough teasing.
“Dad! Shhh!” Micah hissed, loudly enough for even the neighbors to hear. “Hey, Bambi! What’s up?”
“That’s what I wanna know. But, seriously, where’s dinner?”
Andrew made a big show out of presenting a plate filled with assorted pieces of steaming meat, while Derek offered her grilled vegetables. “Like it?” Derek asked, his eyes brimming with mischief and his voice a bit too loud, as if he were trying to redirect someone at a meeting.
She ignored it for the moment, happy enough to see that dinner was, at long last, ready. “I do! C’mon, let’s eat!”
She’d endeavored to mix up the seating, so that the different families were mingled. It hadn’t been easy, but she and Derek figured that tossing them all in like a salad would work. She met his eyes over the space of two tables and shared a smile with him. His dad was talking to hers and LeeAnn had basically monopolized her mother—it seemed they had some acquaintances in common. Andrew joined in with Blake, and Micah and Bethany scooted their chairs back and forth between her and Derek, stopping in tandem to talk to folks in the other groups.
Mac sighed for a bit of quiet at one point, finishing off her grilled asparagus with a satisfactory crunch. Her back ached, her head ached, her feet—encased in the new boots she’d be wearing on Saturday—ached. Every single muscle of her face was exhausted, as if she’d emerged from a marathon interview or something. Smiles, smiles, smiles.
Still, Mac relished the contentment that settled over her. Despite all the strange edges and unanswered concerns, she felt at peace. Happy, even. And it was all because of that man over there with the impossibly red hair and classic, casual clothes. He turned, then, perhaps feeling her eyes on him. You okay? he asked silently, mouthing the words and lifting dark red brows.
She nodded and then decided to surprise him, right there in front of everyone . . . even if they weren’t watching. With the same silence, she formed the words I love you.
He blinked and rose slowly to his feet, not even seeming to care that everyone developed a sudden case of laryngitis. “What did you say?” he demanded quietly, deep brown eyes focused on hers, alight with something that she felt already and was more than thrilled—skin-hummingly thrilled—to see.
“No sounds passed my lips,” she murmured as he took her hands.
A soft gasp rose from one of their guests, but she ignored it.
Confusion shuttered his gaze for a moment before he smiled and pulled her right up against him. “I do read lips, you know.”
“Convenient.”
Then, he bent forward to her ear and whispered, “I love you, too.”
INTERLUDE XII
Mac & Derek
Mac: You up for London? Passport and everything?
Derek: Oh, wait. The wedding.
Mac: THE wedding! Wanna be my plus one?
Derek: So long as you promise to dance with me.
Mac: Thought you’d never ask
Derek: By the way, thank you. I know your mom says you’re impetuous, but—
Mac: Ugh! Can we not with her, please? She still refuses to come to the concert Saturday. :-
Derek: I know. I’m sorry. My mom’ll be fan enough for two moms, though, if you think about it.
Mac: Did you give her the t-shirt the girls signed?
Derek: She promised to wear it
Mac: Excellent.
Derek: So, thank you, anyway. I love you being impetuous.
Mac: I love you being all grateful.
Derek: I love you being all deflective of compliments.
Mac: Deflective. Is that even a word?
Derek: Autocorrect thinks so.
Mac: Fine. You’re welcome, okay?
Derek: Lunch tomorrow?
Mac: We’re taping an interview. Dinner?
Derek: I’ve got leftovers. Want some?
Mac: Yes! Any more asparagus?
Derek: Oh yeah. Only you and Bethany actually liked it.
Mac: Bring it all!
Derek: Goodnight, hon. Love you.
Mac: Love you, too.
13
“Andy was certain you were going to ask Mac at your barbecue,” Mike Cunningham remarked as they set off to the Chevy Riverfront Stage on Saturday afternoon. “He was kind of disappointed.”
It was the third day of the CMA Fest, the sky was faintly overcast, and the weather was cooler than it had been the day before, due to an early morning thunderstorm. With less than two miles for a walking route and the sure knowledge of parking concerns leading to the venue, it was too easy to leave the cars at Mike and Mac’s place to hoof it, as one of Derek’s grandfathers had said when Derek was a kid.
“Well, you know different, right?” Nerves buzzed in his stomach and he tugged at his unbuttoned collar. He’d been wearing his new boots at home over the past few days, to get accustomed to them, and they had made it through one full workday, so he was hoping he wouldn’t regret wearing them to see the Lipstick Outlaws. “I just hope she likes the ring.”
“Heck, I’m still kind of surprised you bought one,” the younger man confessed as they paused at a corner to wait for traffic. “Still feels kinda sudden from where I sit.”
“You're standing,” Derek reminded him, nodding when the light changed.
Mike grinned at him. “But then you say stupid stuff like that, and I think, Yep, they’re perfect.”
The men shared a laugh and continued on their way. “Where’s Bethany?” Derek asked after about half a silent block. Even though he and Micah Cunningham were on good terms and Derek knew he had the official consent and so on from Mac’s family, he was still on edge about the whole marriage proposal gig. “I thought your other half was joining us today.”
“Oh, she’ll be there. She just wanted to make sure someone,” he said before coughing sarcastically, “had a ride home. Just in case, you know?”
“The streets’ll be insane, though, between the free shows during the day at the Riverfront and the evening concert in the stadium.” The Biggest Names in Country Music (Derek’s label, not the official one) would be performing at the Nissan Stadium for evening concerts that one did indeed have to buy tickets for.
“Beth and I are staying for the show tonight,” Mike assured him. “Not sure what Mac’s gonna do, though. You plan on asking her at the concert? Behind the stage?”
“Yeah. That’s the plan. After their set, though, so she isn’t thrown off her game. I don’t want to ruin this for anyone.”
Mike maneuvered around a c
ouple walking an Irish Setter and had to step off and on the sidewalk before they could resume their discussion. They were nearing the State Park and the crowds were huge, out to take advantage of a nearly perfect day, even if they weren’t going to the day-long run of concerts. Each band, Mac had said, would have half an hour onstage with fifteen-minute breaks. “At least we don’t have to find a seat. You’re sure Val’s with you on this?”
Derek smiled, remembering how that conversation went as he and Mike continued to follow Mike’s GPS-approved route to the concert venue.
“Hey, Val? It’s Derek Blakemore, Mac’s boyfriend.” His hands had been sweating when he’d made the call. For all he could manage fundraisers and getting folks to help the less fortunate, this kind of call was entirely new to him.
“Oh, honey. I heard about your little family dinner party.”
He blushed. “Yeah. Next time, we’ll make it for the band, all right? We just wanted to have a meet-the-family thing, you know?”
“Oh, I know,” the Outlaws’ manager had responded with knowing humor. “So, what can I do for you? Wanting to join the rest of us behind stage or something? Hmm?”
“You’re psychic, right?”
The older woman laughed a little. “Just really good at reading folks. That’s why I do what I do.”
“And you do it so well. Yeah, Val. I do.”
“Does she know?”
“Well, if she doesn’t, she still won’t be too surprised.”
“All right, then. Call me when you’re, like, five minutes out and I’ll make sure to be there for you, or maybe one of the roadies, okay?”
“You’re the best, Val.”
“That’s what they tell me!”
Derek was still smiling about it as they reached Broadway. No lingering in one’s own memories while walking on that street during the CMA Fest, for sure. Music rolled out from windows. Event-wear was visible all over, from the babies to the grandparents and on every age in between.
Mike slapped his arm lightly. “Hey! You! Wake up! You hungry?”
“Honestly? No. Nervous, though.” He took a deep breath and could smell all kinds of aromatic cooking. “I think I’ll just wait. Maybe we can all go celebrate later?”
“Confident, aren’t you?” Mike spoke up over the concert music they could now hear full force coming up the street from the bank of the Cumberland River.
“Optimistic would be a better word. Way too nervous to be confident.”
“If this works out, and we’re twin-laws or something? I am so going to remind you of today.”
Derek angled the other man a glance as they both picked up their pace a bit. “If this works out? I won’t even mind.” His heart was thumping at that point, and a part of him wanted to plow through the crowd—just like he was on his way to do, but without consideration for anyone’s toes—find Mac, drag her off behind one of the big speakers he could see, and . . . and just ask her already.
“You look like you’re plotting someone’s demise, there, bro,” Mike called from behind him. “Slow down. We’ll get there.”
The voices around him didn’t mean a thing. Just a background rumble surrounding them. He finally remembered to text Val, who gave him a hint or two on how to get to where he was going. Mike’s laughter brought him up short just as they reached the barrier that seemed as if it were keeping him from everything that mattered, just then.
“You have a plan,” he muttered to himself. “Stick to it.”
Micah Cunningham nudged him. “There’s Val. We should send her on a spa weekend, you know? She’s been great.”
“Absolutely.”
Val cut through the shifting crowd beyond the barrier like the force of musical nature that she was. Her smile was brief and harried, but it was sincere as she got them past the security people and ushered them back to where they would see their band. “Glad you made it. You can make yourselves useful. Ty broke his wrist getting the drum kit off the truck.”
“Sure. Whatever you need.”
A man strode up, also wearing a Lipstick Outlaws t-shirt. “Hey, Mom! Rissa wanted to—” He broke off and made a sharp Who are they? gesture.
Derek, though he really wanted to get to Mac, managed a polite smile and nod as Val huffed out a breath. “Right. Derek, this is my son, Jake McCann. Jake, this is Derek Blakemore and Micah Cunningham. Here to see Mac.”
“I’m Rissa Walker’s boyfriend,” McCann asserted, stepping forward to shake hands.
From the stage, he could hear, “And thank you, Nashville!” as the current artist finished their half-hour.
“Nice to meet you,” Derek said, now needing to rush. “But I’ve gotta get to Mac.”
“Get on with you,” Val said, shooing them all off. “You, too, Jake. Did Ty see a medic or anything?”
Applause surged over the crowd, overwhelming in its intensity, and Derek felt a brief spasm of nerves that had nothing to do with his hoped-for goal, that afternoon. He was briefly, nervously hopeful that the Lipstick Outlaws would be equally appreciated after their set. They were still fairly new on the scene and—
“And just make sure not to touch Mac’s Ibanez unless you’ve had the lecture,” Mike interrupted his private musing with a breathless laugh as they wove through the music professionals. “Even if she’s desperately in love with you—”
“Hey!”
“—She will kick your butt.”
“Derek!”
Yellow backdrops, blue letters, neon-vested officials, cowboy boots. Bandanas, lanyards, guitar necks. Sunlight glancing off sunglasses. The deafening sound of people shifting during an intermission. Public notices over the PA system. Still, her voice reached his ear and he grinned in a sudden immersion into happiness and relief to hear it and to see her. He grinned and clapped one hand on Val McCann’s shoulder. “Thank you, Val.”
The band’s manager patted his arm, hurried up to Mac to tell her something, and half-jogged to her next destination. “Hey, honey,” Derek called to Mac. “We made it.”
“You have about two minutes before we need that drum kit,” Mike said, reaching to hug his twin at the same time as he spoke. “I’ll hurry after Val. With an emphasis on hurry, you two.”
Derek caught his girlfriend up into his arms, brushing his lips against her temple. “I know. No kissing until later,” he said as he put her down again. “Hey, you’re wearing that skirt!” She grinned up at him and he carefully set her back on her feet to take in the full effect of her new boots, denim skirt and the red top that matched the suede in her new boots. Her hair was curled and styled and hardly seemed to move as she wrapped her arms around him and guided him back to where they had to be as they prepped for their set. “I can walk, you know,” he teased.
“Oh, I know. I just wanted to get you to myself for one little minute.”
And, as if she’d read his mind, she hauled him up behind one of the big speakers that faced the audience on the concrete and grass slope just in front of the stage. Hazel eyes alight with anticipation, she pursed her lips and then said, “Derek Blakemore. I love you. I can’t imagine spending the rest of my crazy life with anyone else. I know we haven’t had a lot of time, and I’m afraid I don’t have a lot of time now, but I want you to think . . . during our set . . . if you would maybe consider marrying me.”
* * *
“Are you . . . proposing?”
“Yep.” Derek’s deep brown eyes were wide with shock and Mac rolled up on the toes of her new boots as she waited for his answer. “But you can think about it, like I said. I know—”
All at once, his whole body seemed to relax, and she was briefly concerned he was going to fall right back against the Yamaha speaker array. His smile lit up the entire staging area, and for a breathless moment, Mac didn’t even think about the CMA Fest, the band, or even the cresting sounds that pressed in all around them. All she could do was gaze at his face, the amazed, genuinely glad light in his eyes, the warmth of his smile. At last, he tugged on her ha
nds and pulled her right up against the firm length of his body. “Stinks that we just got engaged and I can’t even kiss you.”
“Is that a yes?”
In answer, he let go of her with one hand, dug into his pocket, and pulled out a small square box. “It’s a definite yes.”
His fingers trembled a bit, just as hers did, but he opened the small box and revealed a sizable diamond solitaire. She blew out a breath, letting some of her tension drain from her body as she did so. “That’s a definite yes,” she agreed as he put the ring on her finger. “And it’s a definite fit! How did you do that?”
“I won’t reveal my sources,” he said into her ear as she stared at the princess cut solitaire in a setting that looked like the diamond was nestled in a supportive network of gold. “I was all set to ask you today, too.” Then, he seemed to suddenly be aware of their surroundings and C.C. hurried to her side.
“Mac! I thanked your brother for his help with the drums! C’mon—oh, my.” Her best friend grabbed her hand and stared, hard, at the ring. “He asked first?”
“No, I did!” Mac all but shouted, laughing in heart-releasing glee.
C.C. was beaming fit to split her face as she turned to Derek. “You—I like you. But we’ve got a show to do.”
“I know!” Mac said, letting the drummer pull her away. “Don’t go anywhere,” she yelled back over her shoulder as C.C. corralled her to the rest of the band.
“I got her. She’s got new hardware, ladies,” Cecilia declared, holding up Mac’s left hand.
The others were, Mac knew, very happy for her, but they did have a show to do and, after some quick hugs, they held hands to pray, as they always did.
“Lord, we ask your blessing on us today,” Val began. “And thank you for the blessings you’ve given us so far. Thanks for each and every one of these ladies and be with them as they sing.”
“Amen!”
The transition time was over, and it was their turn on the stage.
“This is huge, Ceece,” Mac said as they emerged on the public side of this most public venue for their industry. It wasn’t the Nissan Stage, but Mac thought that, maybe, someday, if they worked hard . . .
