Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
We were usually good at being quiet, but sometimes I’d have to put a hand over Kelly’s mouth while I fucked her because she’d get carried away and start to cry out.
Afterward, we’d lay in her bed, damp and breathless, submerged in whatever this was between us.
But we’d stopped talking late at night. Sometimes I even faked falling asleep quickly to avoid a difficult conversation.
We were getting too close to goodbye.
One week after I arrived in Nashville, I woke up and forced myself to face reality—Buckley’s Pub was opening in three days, and I needed to get back. Marius was coming over later to meet Kelly, and if she liked him, he was hired. He would take over from here.
I looked over at her, and my blood warmed at the sight of her sleeping, naked and bed mussed. Immediately I rolled over and curled my body around hers, inhaling her sweet, summery scent. How many more times would I get to do this? What if I walked out of here tomorrow and never saw her again? What if I never met anyone who made me feel this way, like I wanted to keep her close to me all the time? What if I never met anyone who trusted me the way she did? Or whose trust mattered as much as hers did? What if I never found someone who challenged me like she did? Made me laugh like she did? Made me want to drop to my knees just so she didn’t feel so alone?
How was I supposed to go from seeing her and talking to her and hearing her sing or laugh or whisper every single day and night to nothing at all? It would be like having an addiction and quitting cold turkey. I wasn’t sure I could do it.
Suddenly I felt angry. Why the fuck had I let myself fall for her this way? Hadn’t I known better? Hadn’t I always been so careful to keep relationships casual? I’d been so fucking sure of myself, so cocky and carefree. Even when I’d imagined how I’d feel about my future wife, it was nothing like the way Kelly Jo Sullivan had knocked me off my feet. I didn’t know which way was up anymore. I tried to picture my life without her in it, and I didn’t like it at all.
But I didn’t want to love this woman, with her world tours and sold-out shows and rabid fans and social media bullshit and dickhead paparazzi chasing her around. I wanted a laidback, small-town life. I wanted privacy and freedom. I wanted someone who’d belong to me, not the music industry. I didn’t want to share.
And yet . . . here I was. Holding onto her like I was scared the world might end.
A celebrity. A fucking celebrity.
Served me right.
Around noon, I took Kelly’s car—a tiny little BMW convertible I barely fit in, the thing was like a toy—and went out to grab some lunch. Her driver had picked her up earlier for a meeting with someone about a possible film project, and then she was heading to a dress fitting.
I parked in a public lot downtown and walked around until I found a sandwich shop on a quiet side street off Broadway. I ordered a combo, debated taking it to go, but ended up grabbing a table by the window facing the street. When I was done with my sandwich and chips, I gave Austin a call.
“You back?” he asked.
“Not yet,” I said, fighting off guilt. “Soon. I booked a flight for Thursday morning.”
“Cutting it close.”
“I know, sorry. How are things there?”
“All good. Barstools finally arrived today.”
“Fucking finally.” Relief eased some of the tension in my neck and shoulders.
“They look great.”
“Good. Thank you for everything. I owe you guys.”
“Don’t worry about it. That’s what family is for. Veronica is there now if you want to call her.”
“I will. Speaking of Veronica.” I paused. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
Outside the window, a couple walked by, hand in hand. “If she’d gone back to New York, would you have tried to make it work?”
“Yes. But I’d have done everything in my power to convince her not to go.” He paused. “Is this about Kelly?”
“Yeah. I’m just—” I groped for words that would encapsulate how I felt about her. “Struggling with leaving her behind.”
“In Nashville? Or in life?”
“Both,” I admitted. “But I can’t see how it will work. Her career means everything to her. My bar is important to me. Our lives are so far apart.” I frowned. “This is stupid. It won’t work.”
“You haven’t even tried yet.”
“Because what’s the point? Would you want to date someone who lived twelve hours from you?”
“If that’s what it took.”
“It would drive me crazy, Austin, being so far away from her, not knowing what assholes are hanging around her, trying to get a piece of her. I’d worry about her all the time.”