Asking if I wanted him was the equivalent of asking if I needed oxygen. The answer, however, was a bit more complex. “It’s not that simple. There are logistical issues, my promotion coming up…and besides, how do you know after three or four days with someone if you’re willing to throw everything away and take a chance that maybe this time, he might not break your heart? He smashed it the first time. How do I know he won’t do it again?”
“You don’t. And you’ll never know. That’s the kicker.” Addison’s temperament had taken a mild and balmy quality to it since meeting Wilder, and that’s how I knew he was right for her. He calmed her nerves and quieted that nagging voice we both had in the backs of our heads that said true happiness was elusive and fleeting. “You have to take a chance if you really want something.” She scrunched her brow. “Is your promotion a sure thing?”
Glancing at the flickering candle between us, I shrugged a shoulder. After what went down with Harrison, who the hell knew? He’d been my biggest cheerleader my entire career, and I wouldn't blame him if he was sitting in our apartment scheming and planning my demise. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“All right,” she said. “So we’ll cross the bridge when it gets here. And where the heck is our server, because I’m this close to eating my napkin right now.”
We enjoyed our dinner and caught up on our weeks, but the nagging voice in the back of my mind had been urging me to tell her about Mabry all night.
“Thanks for dinner,” she said as I paid the check. “And thanks for letting me vent about the wedding. It’s stressing me out, and I’m pretty sure Mom’s going to pull some stunt that day.”
I smiled and nodded. The words were on the tip of my tongue.
“What’s wrong?” Addison scrunched her brows.
“You know my freshman year of college and how I only came home twice?”
“Uh, yeah,” she said. “I missed you like crazy, but you were acting all weird all the time, and you never wanted me to come see you.”
“I was pregnant.”
Addison’s jaw fell. She leaned back in her seat.
“I had a baby. Beau’s baby. It was a girl.”
Addison’s jaw fell a notch lower while my entire being suddenly got a bit lighter. I just hoped she wouldn’t resent me for keeping it from her for so long.
“Coco, why didn’t you tell me?” Her eyes watered, reflecting off the moonlight above. She placed a hand across her chest. “I would’ve been there for you. I wish you would’ve told me.”
I bit my lip and stared down at the folded linen napkin across my lap. “That was one of the worst years of my entire life, and I may not have been thinking clearly at the time, but I did what I had to do.”
“Where is she now?”
“Sam and Rebecca are raising her.”
“Mabry is your and Beau’s daughter?!”
I nodded.
“She’s my niece.” Addison stood there, letting the information sink in. “I’ve played with her at barbeques and family reunions, you know, back before I left for college. Huh.” She stared off to the side.
“I’m sorry I never told you. I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me, and I didn’t want anyone else constantly reminding me that I needed to do this or say that or be a certain way.”
Addison wrapped her arms around my shoulders and pulled me tight. “Your apologies are no good here. You did what you had to do.”
The following Monday began with a personal tour of my new, handpicked-by-Addison SoHo apartment given by the one and only Wilder Van Cleef.
“You seem a little more energetic than usual,” he said, eyeing me with a curious stare. “Must be pretty excited to move?”
“Sure,” I said, not about to tell him the real reason for my nervous excitement. Beau was flying in that day for our sit-down interview. I hadn’t seen or talked to him since I left the previous Wednesday. If I knew Beau at all, I knew he was just giving me space. He wasn’t a smothering, suffocating type, and if he had any brains about him, he knew we were walking a delicate tightrope.
“Addison said you were wanting a month-to-month,” he said.
“Is that okay?”
“Absolutely. You’re family, Coco,” he said.
“Less than two weeks and you’ll be stuck with me as a sister forever,” I said, nudging his arm.
“I endured you as a sister for a whole month last year,” he teased. “Anyway, you’re not half as bad as you think you are.”
He wasn’t a man who wore his emotions on his sleeve, but he didn’t need to. I saw it in the way he looked at my sister and the way he held her and all the ways he encouraged her and believed in her. Wilder was loyal and gracious, determined and compassionate, and Addison was lucky as hell.
“All right, mister,” I said, mentally photographing the space that would soon become my new home for a yet-to-be determined amount of time. It had been a long time since my immediate future was nothing but a glaring question mark. Glancing at my watch, I calculated just four more hours to go before seeing Beau again. “Movers are delivering my things this afternoon, so I need to get the key over there. Anyway, I better get going. Busy day ahead of me.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Right this way, Mr. Mason.” A perky, fresh-out-of-college girl with a clipboard and headset led me down a long hallway toward a dressing room with my name on the door. “Hair and makeup are on their way and someone will be in shortly to mic you.”
I nodded a thank you as I took a seat across from the lighted vanity as a team of MBC badge wearing men and women flooded my space.
“Beau,” a man’s voice said from the doorway. Glancing into the mirror, I saw the reflection of a man with dark salt and pepper hair and steel blue eyes. Dressed in a navy suit with a red tie, he offered a thin smile, his jaw clenched. “I’m Harrison Bissett. I’m producing this interview.”
He walked toward me, extending his hand, and when I met his handshake, he squeezed the hell out of my mitt.
“Nice to finally meet you,” I lied.
“Likewise,” he probably lied.
“Are we ready?” Dakota appeared just behind Harrison, her eyes dancing between our faces with apprehension.
A staffer came in and hooked a mic pack under my shirt and clipped a tiny mic on my collar before we all shuffled like a herd of stampeding cattle down the long corridor toward a studio. The set resembled a living room with a spotlight shining down on two overstuffed chairs and a table where two waters rested in coffee mugs.
Dakota took a seat, staring down at the notes in her lap while a young woman powdered her nose and scurried off. If she was nervous about her big interview, she sure did a good job of hiding it.
“Are we rolling?” a voice called out from behind two cameras. Everyone was dressed in black. The director. The cameramen. The rest of the crew. They all faded into the dark background, and all I could see was her.
God, had she ever been more beautiful? Completely in her element and on point, she crossed her shapely legs and lifted her eyes to meet mine.
“Beau Mason,” she said in her best Midwestern accent, in a voice that came from her belly. “Thirty years old. Retiring from a successful country music career. What led you to this decision?”
“It was time,” I said, sitting back in my chair. “Time to settle down. Time to start living. Life on the road is rough.”