I splayed my hands wide on the plastered wall, dropping my head between my shoulders as I stared down at the old wooden floor under my feet.

Stage fright, but worse. Because I wasn’t performing for any of the people who’d see this show. I was laying my heart bare for Ella and had no idea how she’d respond.

After fifteen years of marriage, another two of dating, I’d thought I was long-past this point in my life: the fear of rejection, of not being able to read Ella’s emotions or decipher her actions.

“Are you ready?” Angelica asked.

I flinched, yanked from my revelry. “You surprised me.” I placed a hand over my galloping heart and muttered a curse. “No, I’m not sure I’m ready. I’m nervous. Everything’s set, right?”

Angelica nodded, bouncing up and down on her small heels.

“Oh,” she said. “A piece of news I thought you’d want to see.” She tucked her agenda under her arm and pulled out her phone. After pulling up a screen, she handed the device to me. I squinted in the low light, trying to read the words.

I placed the phone back into Angelica’s hand with care because mine shook. “Monique dropped any further claims against me or the label?”

Angelica nodded, beaming up at me.

“You know her,” I said. “She mentioned your history in that email.” I pointed at the screen. Angelica waved her hand, her eyes dropping from mine.

“Irrelevant. All water under the bridge. The important detail is that Monique won’t bother you again.”

I swept Angelica up in my arms and hugged her tight. “Thanks. I still don’t get why you’re helping me but, right now, all the effort you’ve put in . . . it means a lot. If I can help you out, I’ll be there.”

Angelica patted her hair as she put more distance between us. “Oh, I’ll be sure to take you up on that. Sooner rather than later.” Her grin turned cheeky. “Right now, though? Why don’t you get out there and do what you said you wanted to?”

I glanced over Angelica’s head, craning my neck but unable to see most of the crowd. “Is Ella here?” I asked.

“She wasn’t when I was out there.”

Dave said he’d bring Ella, Jeremiah, and Marsha. I should have faith in his word, but . . . after hearing about his and Marsha’s problems, I wasn’t as keen to believe in him as I’d hoped to be.

I nodded, but my stomach tightened and my throat ached. Not a good place to be as a singer. I snagged a bottle of water and chugged it.

I grabbed my guitar and walked toward the small stage.

A pretty young woman stepped in front of me, causing me to halt. “You’re that famous bloke,” she said, eyes wide.