Chapter 34
Chapter thirty-four
Izzy
“Where have you been all morning?” I demand as Becca walks into our office an hour after lunch.
“Home. I got in late last night from my trip.” She sits at her desk and swivels her chair to face me. “Why are you here? I thought you were flying in this morning.”
“I did. I’m just fancy and flew straight into Wild Bluffs.”
“Ah, the benefits of fake dating a guy with a jet.”
She’s not wrong, though Jaxon’s wealth isn’t even in the top ten reasons fake dating him is turning out to be a good idea. It might even be a negative if the way he bolted from the coffee shop in Nashville is any indication of his daily life.
“I make excellent life choices,” I tease.
Becca nods. “I got your text that the meeting went well. What do you think our chances are of closing with W&R Mercantile?”
I lean back in my chair, tapping the end of my pen on my desk. “Honestly? I think they’re pretty good. Like, well over fifty percent. I did stumble a bit when the time came to close the sale.”
Becca tilts her head and starts playing with the ends of her long hair, which she has in a curled ponytail today. “You do hate to sell.”
I groan. “I’m so awkward at it.”
“True. Remember that time someone asked you what package you thought they should go with, and you told them the best value for their money was the base offering?”
“The guy laughed and told me not to quit my day job. Which was confusing since I was doing my day job.”
She opens her laptop and starts pulling up her apps, but she waves a hand, telling me to continue. “Tell me everything. Start to finish. Business first, and then I obviously want all the details about staying in the McMansion.”
I give her the play-by-play of the meeting, and as I recount it, I can feel my smile growing.
Becca clutches her chest. “I’m so proud I might cry.”
“The only appropriate reaction.”
We both laugh, but my stomach’s still fluttery—not with nerves anymore, but with the aftershock of being the person in the room. It felt…good. Empowering. Like I wasn’t just shadowing Becca anymore but finally stepping into something that could be mine.
She leans back in her chair and smiles. “So you crushed it?”
I nod, tucking my hair behind my ear. “It felt like I did.”
“I knew you could do it.” Becca’s smile is infectious. “And just think about it. If we get in with W&R Mercantile, it would be huge for us. It will be huge for us.”
I don’t want to jinx us, but I think she might be right.
Becca turns in her chair to study me, then says, “Okay, spill. You haven’t mentioned Jaxon once, and that’s suspicious.”
My face warms immediately, and I cover my eyes with my hand. Where do I even start? The flight? The almost date-feeling dinner? The fact that I now know what a fifty-thousand-dollar steam shower does to a person’s nervous system?
“Oh my gosh. That good? Or that bad?”
“It was…easy,” I say finally. “For the most part. Which is weird because it shouldn’t have been. Not with our history.”
Becca doesn’t say anything. Just waits.
So I spill everything: the date that wasn’t a date, feeling like I was part of his life, watching him record his music, the shower fiasco, Jaxon’s tenderness, the way he held me as I cried and didn’t make me feel like I was broken.
I rub my eyes and take a deep breath before saying quickly, “He may have also recorded a song that may or may not be about me.”
Becca gasps. “Izzy…”
“It’s unconfirmed! It just felt that way.”
If this wasn’t fake.
“But still.”
“I know. It’s dangerous.”
“And romantic.”
“Stop,” I say, covering my face. “Don’t say that. It’ll make it seem real.”
“Maybe it is real,” she offers.
Maybe it is real. But his decision to end things less than four hours ago suggests it’s not real enough to ever last.
“Or maybe it’s just another of his hundreds of songs about growing up and love, and I’m just projecting like every other woman he’s ever been with who thinks his songs are about her.”
“That’s not really your style,” she says. “I bet it’s about you.”
Even if it is, I’d be better off reminding myself that he’s written emotional songs about women and life since he was eighteen. This is who he is—even if he needs me to remind him of that.
I stare at my screen, zoning out while she starts working again. Finally, knowing I have to finish my story, I glance over at Becca, chewing my lip.
“What?” she asks.
“He came by earlier.”
Her brows rise. “Jaxon? Didn’t you just fly on an airplane with him for like four hours?”
I nod. “Yeah. And when he left me, he was his usual cheerful self. When he returned, though, he looked wrecked. Like someone had kicked his puppy.”
“What happened?”
“He had breakfast with the coffee group.”
Becca bursts out laughing. “Oh no.”
“Yeah. Accidentally sat with them.” I think about it. “Or they sat with him? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. They weren’t very nice, unsurprisingly.”
Becca leans forward. “Was my dad there?”
“Front and center.”
She winces. “He’s not subtle.”
“Apparently the whole thing was a blend of passive aggression and weirdly polite interrogation. They were nice, in a way that made him feel like he’d done something very, very wrong.”
“That’s their specialty.”
“I think they rattled him.”
Becca frowns. “He said that?”
I shake my head. “He came straight from there to my office and told me we should stop fake dating because my dad doesn’t like him.”
And it felt like someone had kicked me straight in the solar plexus.
The air had rushed out of me, my stomach dropping to the floor with my mood.
He was ready to stop whatever this thing is between us that easily.
Just one word from my dad, who was way out of line, and he was ready to give it all up?
“Oh no,” Becca says.
“Oh yes.”
“So what did you say?”
“I told him he’s my fake boyfriend whether he likes it or not, and that I can’t be seen dating someone who gets intimidated by our dads, famous musician or not.”
“That is so true.”
I hate that this town, the one that has given me so much, continues to let Jaxon down, at least in his eyes.
I love Wild Bluffs, and my dad, and all the coffee guys who feel like they need to defend me, but at the same time, I wish they’d give Jaxon a chance.
Show him the support they’ve always shown me.
“Did he say anything?” Becca asks.
“Not really. Just smiled that sad little half-smile of his. The one that makes you want to wrap him in a blanket and never let go.”
Becca lets out a long sigh. “You’re screwed.”
“Absolutely.”
“Just so we’re on the same page, you’ve fully forgiven and forgotten at this point, haven’t you?”
I nod.
“And your feelings for your fake boyfriend are…?”
“Not as fake as I’d like them to be,” I confess, dropping my head into my hands.
“And that makes you?” Becca asks.
“So fucking screwed,” I whisper to my chest.
We sit there for a moment, the sound of the street outside drifting in through our large glass windows.
It’s a regular Tuesday afternoon—except it’s not.
Something shifted this weekend inside me.
I successfully held an important sales meeting without Becca.
I was able to forget about the one bad part of my past with Jaxon, the one decision that I’ve let overshadow eighteen years of friendship.
I wrap my arms around myself, even though the office isn’t cold.
Maybe it’s not just that something shifted. Maybe I did. And I don’t know what that means for me going forward.