“Really? Then why aren’t you with Tristan right now rather than your big brother?”
Her gaze drops and the glare fades away. “Because he doesn’t like me coming over late. Says it messes with his sleep schedule. But we’re going away together next weekend. We need some time alone to reconnect.”
If Greer were any woman but my sister, I’d tell her that any man deserving of the title shouldn’t care what time his woman is crawling into his bed. He should be happy as fuck she’s there to mess with his sleep schedule. But I’m not going anywhere near the topic of sex with my sister. It’s not happening. Not fucking ever.
Greer thankfully changes the subject. “So, when am I going to get to meet your wife?”
I think about the phone call that wasn’t really even a phone call that Holly and I had earlier. “Soon. You should come to one of her shows. She’s fucking amazing, Gree. You’ll be absolutely stunned.”
“Um, news flash, Crey. I’ve seen her perform on TV; I know what she sounds like. And you’re right—she is fucking amazing.”
“When did you see her on TV?”
“I watched the back episodes of Country Dreams as soon as your news hit the papers. I wanted to see this girl who’s now my sister. You did good. She’s crazy talented. They polished her up a lot from that first audition, but her voice has carried through. The judges were stunned.”
I pull out my phone to call Cannon.
“What are you doing?” Greer asks.
“I’m getting a copy of that season of the show.”
“You haven’t already? Seriously? I thought that would’ve been in the background check.”
“If it was, then Cannon didn’t share it with me. Shit.”
I don’t know why I didn’t do it sooner. My need to see the pre-famous Holly grows exponentially with each ring of Cannon’s phone.
“Not a good time, Crey,” Cannon says, his voice rough.
“Jesus, Cannon. If you’re fucking someone, don’t answer the goddamn phone then.”
“We’re in DEFCON 5 right now, so I figured it had to be important. If it’s not, I’ll get back to Rachel, and we can discuss this in the morning.”
“Guess I’m impressed you actually know her name. And yeah, it’s important, but you can finish up with Rachel first. I want the season of Country Dreams that Holly starred on.”
“You interrupted me for that?”
“It’s important,” I say, my tone clipped and no bullshit.
“And you already have it in your e-mail. Go look for my e-mail from New Year’s Day, after you told me her name. I compiled the report and sent you everything.”
“Thanks. Enjoy your night,” I reply, and hang up.
Greer is grinning. “Told you.”
“Did you listen to the whole damn conversation?”
“Hard not to.”
I shake my head. “I need to get home. I’ve got some TV to watch.” I lift my glass and down the rest of the liquor.
“Fine, leave your little sister to drink alone.”
The server was just returning with her G&T. I pull out my wallet and toss a hundred on the table before grabbing Greer’s hand and pulling her out of the chair.
“You’re not drinking tonight. You’re going home and getting a decent night’s sleep before you go back to the office.”
“I don’t think so, Crey. I’m going to sit down, relax, and enjoy my drink. You run along and watch your wife before she was your wife. I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll be the one running around with partners snapping orders at me.”
“At least tell me you’re taking a cab home and not walking.”
“It’s like six blocks. Cab not required.”
I sit back down. “I guess I’m waiting until you finish your drink then.”
After walking my sister to her door, I walk back to my place. As soon as I’m in the door of my penthouse, I head for the office and pull out my laptop. It only takes a few minutes to dig through my e-mails and pull up the one that Cannon sent.
I start with the audition episode. To say I’m entranced would be an understatement.
I marvel at the roundness in Holly’s face that she’s since lost, and the polish that seems to smooth over her with every episode. I feel like I’m watching the making of a star, but the part that bothers me most? They didn’t need to change a damn thing about her, because she was perfect from the moment she stepped onstage. Pink plaid shirt, jeans worn by time and wear rather than a designer’s dictates, a pair of battered cowboy boots, and the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on her face.
I won’t rest until I put that smile on her face again.
Today is surreal. Not surreal in the way it was to stand on the stage of the Grand Ole Opry and perform, but still surreal all the same. If you were to google the definition of surreal, the Wickman mother-daughter heart-to-heart should pop up.