Delaney James seemed to have it all-a Manhattan townhouse, a thriving career as a fashion journalist, and a handsome, high-powered husband, but when he announces he's leaving her, Delaney's picture-perfect life unravels. Heartbroken and in need of a...
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I'm standing in a karaoke bar. A freaking karaoke bar. And it's Saturday night, which means it's packed. The bar is crammed with people sipping cocktails and taking shots. Dark, wooden booths line the walls and are bursting with patrons. High-top tables in the center of the room seat couples and groups of friends, and everyone – and I mean everyone – is watching a curvy blonde as she gyrates and attempts to sing Buttonsby The Pussycat Dolls. I don't know what his plan is here, but if Greyson makes me get onstage and sing, I'll die.
"Which song should we choose?" he asks. I tear my eyes away from the stage to find him flipping through a binder filled with laminated pages listing songs. "Don't Go Breaking My Heart? Endless Love? Nah, those are too common. How about Start of Something New from High School Musical? I feel like that song is in my vocal range. Oh! What about that song from the Fifty Shades movie? The one with T-Swift and Zayn! I think I can hit those high notes like he does." He sticks his finger in his ear and closes his eyes as he sings the chorus to "I Don't Wanna Live Forever" in the highest voice I've ever heard come out of his mouth.
I grab the book from his hands and close it. "We don't need to pick a song, because we're not singing."
"Of course, we are." He takes the book back and begins to flip through it again. "Now, help me pick a song we can duet."
"No. I'm not going up there."
"Yes, you are."
"No, I'm not."
He slams the book shut and turns to me, crossing his arms over his chest. "And pray tell, why not?
"Because I'm not getting on stage in front of a room full of people and facing utter and complete humiliation. What if I pee my pants? And because there's singing! I can't sing!" I take a deep breath as my stomach rolls with nausea. "Social media is a real thing, you know. I'll be the girl all over TikTok who can't sing and pissed herself while she did karaoke. I'll go viral! And it'll be out there, in the cloud or wherever things go, forever because once something is on the internet, it's on there for life! Family and friends will see it. Future employers. Oh my, God. I'll never get a job –"
"Okay. Relax, you lunatic," he interrupts. He takes my face in his hands, squeezing my cheeks and squishing them together so I can't talk. "You're not going to piss yourself or go viral, and do you know why? Because I'm going to be up there with you. I'd never let you make a fool of yourself all alone. That's way too much fun and personally, I'd never skip the chance to act like an idiot and make you laugh. At the end of the day, who cares if we embarrass ourselves? Do you know any of the people here tonight?" I shake my head. "Do strangers' opinions matter?" I shake it again. "After all is said and done, do you think you'll remember this moment as being fun, or being scary?"
"Both," I mumble through pinched lips.
"I'll accept that answer." He lets go of my face and hands me the binder. "Now. Pick a song."
