Prologue

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It was happening. Again.

She knew it, even in her sleep. She recognized the scene. She knew how it would end. She could see his patience slip away before her eyes and turn to anger.

"Jane, the guys are waiting. We're supposed to go out!"

"So go out!"

She'd had the dream more times than she could count. More times than she could justify. She knew where it was heading – the words she would say next. She could already taste them in her mouth, cold and hard and bitter.

She told herself to swallow them. Clamp her lips closed and force them down. Even if she bit her tongue. Even if she choked. Anything, anything but speak those words aloud.

But she knew the words were coming. Those words that changed her life. And his. And in some small way, the lives of the unfathomable mass of strangers all around them – out there in the dark, with their earbuds and their instagram and their tickets to his 30-city tours – the strangers listening in on every word he'd ever said to her afterward.

"This is the best night of my life!" he shouted. "How am I supposed to celebrate without you?"

"I don't know, Adam," she heard her dream-self answer once again. "Maybe you should write a song about it. . . . "

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