Page 91 of From the Embers
“I swear, if you go into labor and Shawn Hill gets to look up your dress while I’m forced to deliver our child, I’m never forgiving you.”
She let out a quiet laugh. “Great. Well, now you’ve ruined my plan. Everybody knows there is nothing sexier than childbirth.”
No less nervous, I grinned over at her. “I’ve got my eyes on you, Maxwell.”
She laughed again, but it ended with another wince.
“Not regular, huh?”
Clamping her jaw shut, she shook her head. So. Damn. Stubborn.
Only a year earlier, we’d sat at the same awards show with three nominations under my belt for Best New Artist, Song of the Year, and Record of the Year. I hadn’t won any of them, but with my music on every station across the country and a headliner tour selling out as quickly as dates went up, it was hard to feel anything other than grateful.
For Bree and me, having another baby was an easy decision. I’d always wanted a whole herd of kids, and while sometimes it’d felt like just that with the three we already had, the idea of adding another had been more tempting than either of us could resist. With my tour winding down and work already starting on my next album, it was perfect timing.
Though our current predicament was less than stellar.
“And the winner is…” Shawn Hill’s voice boomed, forcing my attention back to the big stage.
After my first loss of the evening, I’d told myself a win didn’t matter. I got to make music for a living. It was a job that more than supported my family, and my career had grown to levels I hadn’t even known to dream about. I had a gorgeous wife who loved and supported me wholly and with her entire being, three beautiful, healthy kids at home and another who, with any luck, would hold tight until we made it to the hospital.
Despite the chaos and tragedy of my past, I had a life I loved. Winning a Grammy wouldn’t change any of that.
But it still sounded like the sweetest melody when I heard, “From the Embers, Eason Maxwell!”
A wave of emotion crashed into me, pinning me to my seat, so I turned into Bree as she threw her arm around my shoulders. The biggest names in the entire industry clapped and cheered. Levee and Sam stood up, shouting my name and patting me on the shoulder, but it was Bree’s voice in my ear that made my throat get thick.
“This is all you. Even when people told you to stop and the world quite literally caught fire around us, you kept going. And you did this, Eason. All of this.”
When all other words failed me, I managed to whisper, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she said before releasing me. “Now, go get your Grammy.”
With shaking hands and breathless lungs, I stood up, pressing a kiss to her lips before heading up to the stage. Shawn handed me my award and I took a moment just to admire it, absorbing the weight of it in my hands. I’d seen them a dozen times in studios and at Levee’s house; there were even replicas sold in gift shops around the city.
But none of those had been mine.
Swallowing hard and praying that my brain found words, I looked out at the crowd. My gaze zeroed in on where Bree and Levee were still on their feet as my producer, Lincoln, joined me on stage. We did the whole handshake-hug-back-pat routine before I passed off the golden gramophone to him and stepped up to the mic.
“I, um, have made a living for the past decade writing lyrics. But I was too worried I’d jinx it if I wrote anything down for tonight.” I rubbed my sweaty palms together, not having the first damn clue what to do with my hands without an instrument to fill them. “I’m kinda regretting that now.”
The crowd laughed and I took the moment to clear my throat.
“I want to start out by thanking my wife. I know a lot of you have heard bits and pieces of our story, but for those who haven’t, I’ll give you the abridged version. Some years back, there was a fire at my house. It was horrific. Lives were lost. Paths were forever changed. But the media reported that I saved the life of that beautiful woman over there.” I locked my eyes on Bree, pouring every ounce of love into my words. “But the truth is: She saved me.”
Tears filled her eyes as she blew me a kiss.
“Without that woman, there would be no Eason Maxwell.” I smiled and swayed my head from side to side. “There might be an Easton Maxwell, but that’s a story for a different day.”
The tears finally escaped her eyes as she laughed.
