Page 103 of Two Hit Wonder

"See what?"

"Elijah's article went live the second we hit the stage. Automatically scheduled, the absolute moron." Cam turned the phone so Iona could see the screen. "Look at the headline."

Iona squinted. "'Stage Girls Reunion Implodes at Lakeside: Sources Say Band Finished Before Final Song.'"

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Cam's smile was the smile of someone who was savoring every moment of her revenge. "Except we didn't implode. We triumphed. And now every music journalist in the country is retweeting his article with laughing emojis. His editor's already put out a statement distancing the publication from his 'unverified reporting.'" She made air quotes with her free hand. "He's finished. Completely and utterly finished."

"Cam…" Iona didn't know whether to be impressed or concerned. "You’re a dangerous lady, do you know that?"

"Me?" Cam pressed a hand to her chest in mock offense. "I simply told him what he wanted to hear. It's not my fault he was too stupid to verify his sources." She glanced at her phone again and cackled. "Oh, someone's made a meme. Hold on, I need to screenshot this for posterity."

She disappeared back into the chaos, still cackling.

Iona stood there for a moment, water bottle in hand, trying to process everything that had just happened. The set. The song. The kiss.

The kiss.

Forty thousand people had watched her kiss Maeve MacDonnell. It would be all over the internet by now. Probably already trending. Her mother was going to have opinions about this. Mo was going to have opinions about this. Everyone was going to have opinions about this.

She didn't care.

"Iona."

She turned. Shepherd was standing there, looking slightly rumpled in a way he never usually allowed himself to look. His tie was loosened. His hair was mussed. He'd been in the crowd, she realized. Actually in the crowd, not in some VIP section, watching them play.

"Shepherd."

He stepped closer, and for a moment neither of them said anything. They'd been married for years. They'd raised a daughter together, or tried to. They'd been better friends than spouses, in the end, but they'd been good friends.

"That was something," he said finally.

"It was."

"You were brilliant up there. All of you." He paused. "Maeve especially."

Iona felt her chest tighten. "Shepherd…"

"I was wrong about her." He said it simply, without fanfare. "I thought she'd hurt you again. I thought she was still the same person who walked away fifteen years ago. But she's not, is she?"

"No. She's not."

"Good." He reached out and squeezed her shoulder, brief and warm. "Then I'm happy for you. Genuinely. You deserve someone who looks at you the way she does."

"How does she look at me?"

Shepherd smiled, and it was the smile of a man who had made his peace with something. "Like you're the only person in any room you're in. Like you always have been." He squeezed her shoulder once more and let go. "Be happy, Iona. That's all I've ever wanted for you."

He walked away before she could respond, disappearing into the backstage crowd to find Mo.

And then, suddenly, Maeve was there.

She was sweaty and flushed and her hair was a disaster and yet she was undeniably the most beautiful thing Iona had ever seen. She stood there, guitar still strapped across her back, and looked at Iona like she wasn't quite sure any of this was real.

Iona looked back at her and felt something slot into place. Something that had been missing for fifteen years. Something that felt, finally, complete.

✽✽✽

At first, Maeve had found a quiet corner and called Glinna. It took three rings. Then: "Well?"