Page 29 of Every Shattered Note
He starts strumming the guitar and I’m almost hypnotized, which should be completely wrong, but here we are.
The two men who were helping him step offstage quietly, exchanging looks that say they know exactly what’s about to happen.It’s just him now—center stage, bathed in the faint glow of an old spotlight that hums faintly overhead.
I cross my arms.“Where’s your band?”
“You said it was okay if I was my own band.”He shrugs, adjusting his mic.“So here we are.”
Of course I said that.And of course, he remembered.
“Right,” I murmur.“Then show me.”
His lips twitch, like he’s fighting back a smile.“You got it, wedding planner.”
The first note hits, and I feel it before I register it.
It’s “At Last” again—but it doesn’t sound like a cover.It’s slower, darker around the edges.He’s pulled it apart, stripped it clean, and rebuilt it in his voice—less Etta, more velvet laced with smoke and longing.It should feel sacrilegious.It doesn’t.It feels like warm hands on bare skin.Like something stolen and whispered back.Romantic in a way that ruins you a little.
This should be illegal.I mean, what happens if the bride falls at his feet and ruins the entire wedding?I can’t have that, right?
Pay attention and stop fantasizing,I order myself.
The melody moves through the room like smoke curling through candlelight, wrapping around every chair, every corner.Even Jules stops talking.That’s a miracle in itself.
This time, his voice—rougher than I expected, like he’s sanded the edges down from something that once shined too bright.There’s heartbreak in it.It’s like whatever arrangement he did is to fit his voice in an unexpected way.
For a split second, I forget that this is supposed to be work.I’m just being serenaded by a man who I thought wouldn’t be able to keep up with the band last week and now ...
He’s good.Infuriatingly good.
Jules mutters something that sounds suspiciously like holy shit under her breath.
Rafe closes his eyes mid-verse, and it hits me—that tiny pull in my chest I haven’t felt since ...
Since before I decided feelings were a liability in this business.Since before everything became a checklist.
He finishes the song with a small exhale, like it cost him something.
Silence fills the space after the last note fades, thick enough to feel tangible.Even the chandeliers seem to hum with it.
When he looks up again, it’s right at me.
That same half-smile.Knowing.Quietly arrogant.
It’s not even a smile, really.More like an acknowledgment.
You hear it too, don’t you?
I hate that I do.
“Thoughts?”he asks, breaking the spell.
I clear my throat, force my voice to stay businesslike.“That was ...decent.”
Jules chokes on her coffee beside me.“Decent?Alyssa, he just made Etta James roll over in her grave—in a good way.”
“Don’t encourage him,” I hiss.“He already thinks he’s auditioning for something bigger.”
He laughs softly from the stage, catching every word.“You wound me, Ms.Stone.”
