I wouldn’t expect anything else in Nashville. They bled good music around here.

“You’re supposed to talk to that lady over there!” Camden called over the din, pointing to someone near the stage.

I nodded once and handed over two bags for him, one of which had his bunny.

Camden smiled curiously. “You’re not nervous or mad?”

I dipped down to kiss his temple. “Music is easier than breathing.”

“I mean, you’re wrong, but I’m glad you think so. I can’t wait to see you!”

I laughed. “All right, see you soon.”

I left Camden between two tables seconds before August joined him, and I went over to talk to the woman in charge. I had to press a finger to my ear closest to the stage in order to hear what she said, and I got the gist. Open-mic setup, festival edition; if I had sheet music or a lead sheet, I was to deliver it to the accompanying band right away.

I didn’t have either of those on me, but I had both on my phone.

She said she could have her assistant run over to the office and print it out.

Then I signed a waiver where I solemnly swore to compensate their company if I broke the guitar I was gonna borrow.

“You’re on in twenty minutes—give or take,” she hollered over the music. “There’re two more musicians after him.” She nodded at the guy on stage. “If you have the legalities in order, go talk to Lance with 105.1 WNXF next to the bar. If you’re good enough, they’ll play it on the air.”

If I’m good enough.

“Got it.”

Ten minutes later, I found August and Camden at a table where they’d managed to steal a single spot closest to the stage. Camden was perched on August’s lap, and two beers and a soda were on the table in front of them.

“You’re actually gonna play for us?” August asked in surprise.

“Looks like it.” I squatted down at the head of the table, and I gave Camden’s knee a squeeze. “This one calls himself an evil genius for a reason, I guess.”

Camden grinned in triumph. “It’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission sometimes.”

I barked out a laugh.

August groaned and pressed his forehead to Camden’s neck. “It’s definitely not, boy.”

“It totally is!” Camden argued with his goofy grin. “Here, Daddy got you a gross beer.”

I accepted the bottle and took a long swig. It was anything but gross. Just like the rest of this day, it was perfect.