Then There Was You Read online

  Now he stood, watching the girl he loved, the ache inside him getting so big that he had to hold himself back from leaping off the stage. He didn’t want to wait another second to tell her that of all the mistakes he’d made in his life, walking away from her was his biggest. And then he’d beg for a second chance.

  But he couldn’t. This was her moment, not his. Grace needed all her attention. Doing anything to throw off her equilibrium, especially when he had no idea what her response would be, would be selfish. Besides, his mother would kill him if he stuffed it up again.

  He would wait. For as long as it took.

  It was halfway through day two and everything ached. Paige slipped off her flats, flexed her toes, then stretched out her feet.

  The first day had been an unmitigated success, with the exception of a couple of blocked toilets. Fortunately, she was well versed in the art of plunging, and had brought multiple changes of clothes with her, prepared for any and all messy incidents that might occur.

  She leaned back in the folding chair she’d placed near the offstage exit, closed her eyes, and allowed her body to relax, just for a second, as she listened to the hum of voices traveling across her headset and around the building. A vehicle blocking a fire exit needed to be moved, a restock of merchandise was being arranged, someone was on the hunt for a misplaced cell phone. The ordinary background chatter of a big event. All was well.

  Behind the buzz, she could hear the rise and fall of the team leading worship, Kellie’s gorgeous voice bringing people together. After this, they had another session, afternoon tea, one final session, and the conference would be done. For the ten thousand people who got to leave.

  Once they were gone, the crew had six hours to strip everything back and return the arena to the empty shell it had been when they arrived.

  The band moved into a new song, Josh’s husky voice taking the lead. Paige opened her eyes, her gaze shifting right, through the wings and out onto the stage, where he stood, shining under the blinding stage lights. The back of his T-shirt stuck to him, the powerful lights cooking the musicians like they were turkeys in a Thanksgiving oven.

  She shoved down the ache that rose within her at the sight of him and allowed the song to roll over her. In a week, her contract at Harvest would be finished. In two weeks she’d be on a plane back home. She wanted to savor every moment of this event. Even the moments that made her wish for something more.

  Especially those moments.

  God, please bless him. Help him find the woman who’s right for his life. She managed to coble the words together in her head and force them out over the strident objections of every neuron in her brain. She couldn’t say she meant them. Not yet. But she was trying.

  She had plenty to be grateful for. Being able to play the violin again without being overtaken by loss. Finding some measure of peace in Christchurch. Flying without needing to breathe into a paper bag the whole time.

  She breathed out, imagining the tendrils unraveling around her soul. She’d gained a lot in the last six months. Josh wasn’t the one, but someone would be. Kat was right. She just needed to trust in a master plan that went beyond the guy in front of her.

  “Paige, are you there?” Her headset crackled with the sound of her food and beverage guy.

  She pressed the button on the radio pack to give her access to the airwaves. “I’m here, Gerry. What’s up?”

  A pause. “We seem to have a bit of a water issue.”

  “What kind?”

  “We seem to be short about three—” The line crackled then broke up. “. . . bottles for the afternoon tea.”

  “Sorry, you broke up, did you say three hundred?” She did the calculations in her head. That would still give them just over six thousand bottles. That should be fine. On average, they went through two bottles per woman per day, and some women accessed the water coolers around the arena to refill bottles rather than grab a new one.

  “Three thousand.”

  Three thousand? She shoved her feet back in her shoes, stumbling to stand. That only left them with four thousand bottles. That wouldn’t be near enough. They’d be at least a thousand short, probably more.

  “Have we misplaced them? Or have we never had them? Have we checked everywhere? Every storeroom?” Stupid bottled water had been the bane of her life this entire job. They had to be somewhere. They had been so meticulous when taking deliveries. She couldn’t believe someone wouldn’t have picked up that only 37,000 bottles arrived when 40,000 had been ordered.

  “Just trying to work that out. Have people looking everywhere, nothing yet.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Catering B.”

  “All right, I’m on my way.” She glanced at her watch. The new session was about to start. They had an hour to find them.

  Josh walked off the stage as fast as he could. He was going to melt if he had to spend another second under those lights. When he met Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in heaven, he was going to tell them they didn’t know how good they had it. At least when they were thrown into the fiery furnace, no one had expected them to perform.

  He placed his guitar on the stand waiting for him just off stage, and moved to follow the rest of the band through the door into the green room.

  Then he stopped, distracted by a flicker of familiar blonde hair slipping through the door leading to the bowels of the arena. He followed.

  He’d spent the last day and a half watching Paige, waiting, desperate to talk to her. Instead of lyrics running through his head, it had been the incessant chant of I love Paige, I love Paige. He was lucky he hadn’t blurted that out halfway through a song. On the flipside, whether accidentally or on purpose, she had yet to come within about fifty feet of him.

  He grabbed the edge of the door as it was about to shut and bolted after her. The conference had gone flawlessly, a perfectly oiled machine. If he had to wait any longer, his heart might give out under the strain.

  She was about twenty feet away and moving fast. “Paige!”

  His voice bounced off the sterile white walls of the tunnel.

  She stopped, then slowly turned. “What?”

  Her voice echoed back at him, tired, yet sassy.

  He took a couple of steps. Her hair had half fallen out of the bun it had been in this morning and now haloed around her face. Her white shirt was rumpled and streaked, and half the hem of the left side of her navy pants had unraveled.

  “What, Josh?”

  “Do you have a moment?”

  She looked at him and tugged a piece of hair behind the black band of her headset. “Do you know where my missing three thousand bottles of water are?”

  What? “No.”

  “Then no, I don’t have a moment. You find me a storeroom with a hundred and fifty boxes of water, and then we can talk.” She rotated and kept walking.

  “Wait.” Wow, that didn’t sound desperate. Not at all.

  She stopped, spun around, and marched right back up to him. “What? What do you want from me?” She punctuated her words with a finger stabbing the middle of his chest. “What can we possibly have left to talk about?”

  His mouth opened, but nothing came out. He was struck dumb by the sheen of tears that brimmed in her eyes.

  She threw her arms up. “Exactly. Nothing!” She spun back around, started to storm away.

  “I love you.” The words spilled out of him. Worst timing in the world, throwing them out when she was in a crisis. But he couldn’t—wouldn’t—take them back.

  She slammed to a stop, but didn’t turn.

  A door opened a few meters up the corridor, and someone stuck their head through. “Paige, there you are. We found the bottles.”

  “Great, good work.” The guy disappeared as quickly as he’d shown up, but Paige didn’t move. She just stood there with her back to him.

  “Paige McAllister. I. Love. You.” The words fell out in jagged spurts and echoed back to him. Why, of all places, had he chosen this sterile
echoing tunnel?

  She turned and stood there, looking at him, tears spilling down her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a jerk. And stupid. And pigheaded.” He took a step toward her.

  “Arrogant.”

  Okay, so she was going to make him work for it. He nodded, took another step. “Unbelievably arrogant.” He had maybe two more steps until he would be close enough to touch her. “And a sanctimonious hypocrite.”

  She gazed at him, the flicker of a smile on her lips, fanning the hope welling inside him. Then she was looking over his shoulder, expression frozen in . . . horror?

  He turned and found himself staring at his mother. His mother?

  What was she doing? She was supposed to be teaching this session, as evidenced by the headset mic perched on her coiffure.

  She stepped toward them, a strange Mona Lisa smile on her face. He widened his eyes, trying to send her the message, Go, go away. Now!

  “Honey, I know I told you to make some kind of grand gesture, but—” Her mouth wobbled, as if she was trying to maintain control. She motioned toward him. “Your mic’s still on.”

  He bit his lip to stop himself from spraying an expletive into the ears of thousands of women and wrenched his battery pack from his belt. He stared down at the flashing green light. How was his mic still on? He was always double micced for events like his, but they had the power to kill it at the sound desk. Why hadn’t they?

  “They tried to kill it at the desk, but either the distance or this—” His mum gestured to the concrete around them. “Meant they couldn’t.”

  Oh.

  “So I’m supposed to be teaching right now, but I’m being outshone by the fact that there are ten thousand women out there who haven’t swooned so much since Patrick Swayze said, No one puts Baby in a corner.”

  A roar suddenly rolled across them, whistling, clapping, foot stomping. Josh could barely unscramble his horrified thoughts above the din.

  “So we have two options. Either we turn that thing off, or we mic up Paige and you two can have my session, since I’m pretty sure no one cares what I have to say right now.”

  The roar hit new heights. The concrete under his feet trembled from the vibrations coming from the main arena.

  He’d lost her. This would be her worse nightmare. He’d completely lost her.

  He turned around, steeling himself for the rejection on her face.

  Paige was shaking her head, crying, and laughing.

  She was laughing so hard, she was clutching her stomach, her whole body shaking as the roar kept going and going and going.

  Suddenly she straightened up and walked toward him, her gaze unwavering on his. She walked until she stood on the ends of his toes, then reached a hand up. Before he knew what she was doing, she’d unwrapped the mic from around his head and was holding it to her lips. She paused, looked up at him, and unleashed a smile that almost took him out at the knees. “Sorry, ladies. He’s all mine.”

  The roof almost came off.

  The sound was deafening. She almost couldn’t think. But it didn’t matter, because all she needed to know was in the gray eyes staring down at her.

  She flicked the button, turning the light from green to red. Then, just to be sure, she pulled the headset out of the radio pack and chucked it on the cement floor.

  Josh shoved the radio pack into his pocket, then tugged her closer, running his fingers down her back, sending sparks flying to her feet. “I can’t believe you did that.”

  The next thing she knew he’d unplugged her headset, untangled it from her hair and thrown it down to join his. He grinned at her. “Do you have somewhere you need to be? I don’t want to distract you.”

  She ran her palms up his chest. “Not right now. Everything is under control.”

  If he kept running his fingers through her hair, she’d lose all sense of reason. She couldn’t, not yet. She had one thing to clear up first.

  “What about Kellie? Is there any chance . . .”

  His fingers paused, and he moved one hand around to tilt her chin so their noses almost touched. “There’s never been anything with Kellie. She’s seeing someone. And how could I ever have anything with Kel when my heart is wrapped around you?” His words were husky, his breath warming her lips.

  Her fingers curled around the top of his T-shirt. “Josh Tyler.”

  “Hmm?”

  “You going to kiss me, or what?”

  He unfurled a dangerous smile at her, tugging her closer until she was melded against his chest. “Demanding much?” One hand stayed in her hair, while the other ran down her back, up her side and along the side of her face. His nose touched hers. Her breath came in spurts.

  He tilted her face and leaned in, millimeter by millimeter, then brushed his lips against hers. Softly. Slowly. Until she couldn’t stand it and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as her world shattered into a thousand pieces.

  If he grinned any more, his face would hurt for a month. Time disappeared while they stood in the tunnel, talking, kissing. Mostly kissing. People walked by carrying on with Grace business, occasionally breaking into their world with a piercing wolf whistle.

  Whatever had remained of Paige’s hairdo had completely unraveled, and it tumbled around her face and over her shoulders in blonde waves.

  “All right, you two lovebirds.” It was Connor, clapping Josh on the back. “This is all very lovely, but we’ve still got one last worship set. You coming?”

  Josh looked down at her. He’d rather stand in this cement tunnel for the rest of his life.

  “Go. I have things to do and I’m certainly not being responsible for the worship leader missing the closing session.” She gave him a shove.

  He smiled at her, his heart overflowing. “No, you’re just responsible for him derailing his mother’s final teaching session.” He let his fingers trail down her arm.

  “Josh Tyler, if you’re not careful you are going to get me into a whole lot of trouble.”

  “Don’t worry, we’re already scheduling chaperones.” Connor cut through the moment.

  Josh grabbed her hand as they walked back toward the stage door. Her fingers fit perfectly in his.

  The other band members were already getting their gear on and starting to walk on stage. He was still in his sweaty T-shirt from the previous session, but there was no time to change. So he tugged Paige to him for a lingering kiss. “I’ll see you soon.”

  She smiled up at him and gave him a push. “Go.”

  He grabbed his guitar off its stand, and slung the strap over his head as he walked toward his mic stand.

  The arena was in full uproar. He plugged his guitar in. Thank goodness the final set was always joyful, lift-the-roof-off praise. He was incapable of singing anything contemplative or reserved right now.

  He glanced down at the monitor in front of him, then behind him to make sure everyone was in place. Connor gave him a wink. Amanda was grinning at him.

  He strummed the opening chord. The noise was insane. Suddenly a word materialized through it all. Paige. Paige. Paige. But it wasn’t in his mind this time. It bounced from the top of the rafters to the front row.

  His mother, his mother, was on her feet yelling it, along with the other guest speakers.

  He turned, looking toward the wings to see if she’d heard it too. She stood just behind the curtain, laughing, shaking her head in a don’t you dare kind of way.

  “Don’t y’all want to worship?”

  “Paige, Paige, Paige.” Feet were stomping. Whistles split the room. Rafters shook.

  He grinned at her. She shook her head faster, her hair bouncing all over the place. “You want to meet the girl I love?”

  The chants got louder.

  He tilted his head at her. “Y’all know she was responsible for pulling this thing together?”

  The response had his ears ringing. The Super Bowl had a quieter crowd than this.

  Paige hated stuff like th
is. Hated the limelight. Josh smiled at her, gesturing her to come out of the wings with a tilt of his head. She would make the worst pastor’s wife in the history of the world.

  But all that mattered as she stepped out of the wings and into the spotlights were the strong, steady gray eyes of the man she loved. What she thought didn’t matter.

  Someone else was managing the logistics of this relationship and He had impeccable credentials.

  Acknowledgements

  After wrestling 85,000 words into submission you’d think it would be easy to spiel off a page of acknowledgements but this part seems to get harder with every book!

  As always, none of this author life could happen without the “real” Josh. Thank you for the many (many) nights that we finally manage to settle the tribe only for you to lose me to my laptop. I’m sorry about all those things you tell me that I don’t even register because I’m distracted pondering the woes of imaginary people while you’re talking. I love you!

  Living on a book deadline while chasing three small benevolent dictators isn’t possible without many helping hands. Kylie Lincoln, Ann-Maree Beard, Fiona Conway, Anna Holmes, Elise Teves, Steph Mowat and Olivia Williams have all stored up extra treasure in heaven for watching my kids, feeding my family and generally being the best author cheerleaders in the Southern Hemisphere.

  Thank you to my family and family-in-love for their unceasing support. Even when I forget to tell them important pieces of information like that I have another book coming out (sorry about that, Dad!). A special thanks to my father-in-law, Steve “Hard Sell” Isaac: Chief Book Buyer of Awesomeness and #1 Word of Mouth Marketing Machine.

  Every book is a whole new adventure and one that isn’t possible without an amazing team. A huge thank you to Halee Matthews who was a developmental editorial ninja and was right 95% of the time, even though I hated admitting it! I’m grateful to Iola Goulton for her copy editing prowess and being close friends with the Chicago Manual of Style so I don’t have to be. And I am forever indebted to Elizabeth Norman, who proof read this baby when I couldn’t face reading my own words yet again and entertained me with many a dramatic Facebook message.