Chapter 13 Mae
“Good morning, Mae,” Sienna greets as I enter our office, breakfast bagel and coffee in hand.
“Hi, Sienna. It is a good morning, isn’t it?” I reply, smiling.
She returns my comment with a hesitant smile, and I know instantly she’s got something heavy on her mind. I set my coffee and bagel down on the counter in front of her.
“What’s going on?”
“Your mom might have called… again.”
“What did she say? Did she cuss you out?” I demand.
Sienna bites her lip nervously. She knows the history I have with my parents.
The strained relationship that turned into me cutting them out except for the relationship that I’ve allowed them to have with Elsie.
“She said, ‘tell my daughter to call me back or I’m flying to Nashville to embarrass her. I miss my granddaughter.’”
Dammit.
I sigh. My parents have been begging to take Elsie on their annual trip to Cocoa Beach, Florida, where they own a massive beach house, for months now.
I’ve successfully managed to dodge their attempts over the past several years, explaining that Elsie was too young, but now that she’s old enough to catch on and has been asking when Grandma and Grandpa are visiting next, I know that if they come to visit, they’ll bring it up, and she’ll want to go.
The relationship between my parents and I is strained at best and non-existent in reality.
Ever since my divorce from Vance five years ago, I’d cut off communication with them to protect my peace and Elsie.
Therapy and the process of rebuilding my life and career had revealed their financial abuse to me.
I’d never had a word for how they’d lorded their finances over me and controlled every decision I made with money until then, and it opened a world of understanding and new perspective on the way that I’d been manipulated.
I never want them to treat Elsie that way or manipulate her with money. But as an understanding parent, I’ve also never restricted their access to Elsie if they follow my rules. Thankfully, they have, and they’ve been anything but controlling with her.
It’s honestly been bizarre to watch them interact with her, as if the world is at her fingertips, she can do anything she wants to and will never mess up in their eyes.
They’ve never used money to manipulate her decisions and when I told them she was excelling at the top of her classes, my mother hadn’t batted an eye.
If I remember correctly, she’d said something like all that matters is she’s happy.
My experience as their child had been so different, riddled with decisions made for me without considering my wants or interests.
I’d never had a say in my life, felt much more like a passenger than the star in it and when I unexpectedly got pregnant at nineteen and married Vance shortly afterwards at their pushing, they supported me financially only until I decided to extricate myself from that abusive relationship.
To them, divorcing a wealthy man connected to a rich family in politics in Texas was an unforgivable sin, even if he'd been physically abusive.
They cut me off right when I needed them most and no amount of doting grandparenting will ever allow me to forget that though I pretend to for Elsie’s sake.
“Okay, I’ll call her back,” I say sighing, before picking up my food again.
“Oh, one more thing…” Sienna says, “Dexter called and said he might have given your number to an MMA fighter who lives in town.”
“W-What? Why is he always trying to hook me up with his athlete friends?”
“Because you’re a total catch and a hot MILF. I think it might be worth giving this guy a chance. I asked Dexter for his name to look him up and…” Sienna spins her laptop around to show me what’s on the screen.
“Whoa.” Miles of tan abs trail downwards to a deep V where the slightest bit of hair is showing over the top of the tight, boxer shorts.
His biceps are ripped, not in the way of a guy who works out consistently but a guy who trains, whose fists have hit more than a punching bag.
His hands are raised in a defensive position but not high enough to conceal the handsome smirk he’s wearing across his face.
Tattoos cover the top of his chest, leaving only bare skin below his nipples.
I realize my jaw is open when I feel a cool breeze of air brush past it. Pull it together, Mae.
“Undefeated in the ring and in the bedroom, I bet,” she whispers with a wink before spinning her laptop back around. “And he might be my new desktop background.”
I laugh. “Did he call?”
“Yep, left you a voicemail that I listened to this morning. Might listen to it later tonight while I use my rabbit… his voice is so… raspy,” she wiggles her brows suggestively.
“Probably from getting punched in the throat too many times. I need to start having Dexter funnel these guys through you for first choice.”
“I won’t complain if you throw this one my way,” she smirks. “Oh, and one more thing. Your new client, the country music artist, Cody Cameron, called. Said he needed to talk to you immediately.”
I rub my temples with my free hand. What could he possibly need now?
I’d already passed his case off to Leah, one of my senior publicists, and she assured me she was handling it—serving Harper the court order for the paternity test and pushing to have it done during her pregnancy.
The goal was to get conclusive results before she could blast an announcement on social media and send the entire music industry into chaos.
And it’s not that I don’t want to talk to Cody. It’s just that I can’t afford to spend too much time thinking about him. I’d done that for too many years, and it got me absolutely nowhere.
Sighing, I head back to my office, setting my coffee and bagel down on my desk before pulling up my tablet. A few quick scrolls through my contacts, and there he is. Cody. I hesitate for half a second—then tap his number.
“Hello?” he answers on the first ring.
“Hi Cody, it’s Mae Sterling from Sterling Sports Public Relations.”
“Hi Mae. Fairly certain you’re the only Mae I’ve ever known, and I’d know your voice anywhere,” he says with an easy chuckle.
His voice is deep, like he’s just woken up or went for a jog and I get now how he made it as a country music artist. He’s got that kind of raspy voice that translates well into country ballads full of love and loss and makes women want more.
Note to self, listen to some of his music on my run this evening.
“What can I help you with, Cody?”
“Leah reached out to me,” he says simply.
“Yes, I passed your case over to her. It’s straightforward, and she’s one of my senior publicists, completely capable of handling it.”
“I just thought you’d be working it.”
“I’m the owner of the business. I typically only take on highly complicated cases for our highest profile athletes.”
“Well…” I can hear him hesitating for a moment, “there are a few things I’d like to go over with you. Just to be sure you have all of the details of the case.”
“Okay…” I know exactly where he’s headed with this before he finishes.
“…Over dinner.”
I sigh. “Cody.”
“Mae.”
“Is this strictly a professional discussion?”
“Only if you want it to be that way.”
I laugh. “I don’t go on dates with clients that aren’t professional, Cody.”
“Was Dexter an exception?”
I wince, not willing to give that an answer. It isn’t any of Cody’s business who I’ve dated over the past decade since we broke up and have been apart.
“Shit, that was out of line,” he exhales. “I don’t know why I said that—something about seeing you again has completely taken over my brain. But yeah, I’ll keep it professional. I’ll try.”
I let out a slow breath because I cannot believe he just admitted that so freely. “Fine. If we stick strictly to the details of your case, we can do dinner.” I pull up my calendar, scrolling through the mess of appointments. “How’s Thursday night?”
“Works for me. I’ll pick you up at your office at seven?”
“I’ll meet you there. Sienna will set the reservation.” I pause for emphasis. “But Cody, make sure this stays about your case. And just so we’re clear, this is going on your bill.”
He chuckles, that low, familiar sound I shouldn’t still recognize. “You always were the smarter one between us. See you then. Can’t wait.”
I hang up and stare at my phone, the weight of that last sentence pressing against my ribs and filling my heart. Because the truth is, I can’t wait either—and that terrifies me.
The rest of the day flies by in a blur of callbacks to my highest-profile athletes—the ones who’ve been with me since the beginning, the ones who stuck with me, and I with them.
Thankfully, none of them have any major fires today, which makes wrapping up the evening with my small but fierce team of five feel just a little lighter.
“And the Cameron case?” I ask Leah as she scrolls through her tablet.
“The court has already sent the paternity order to Harper, her manager, and her lawyer. They have three days to respond, and we included a strongly worded—but polite—letter requesting she keep the pregnancy private until paternity is confirmed.”
I nod. “Perfect. Great work.”
As the team filters out, I head back to my office, ready to call it a night, when I notice a sticky note plastered to the middle of my computer screen. It’s bright pink and written in Sienna’s bold handwriting:
CALL HANDSOME MMA FIGHTER BACK OR I’M GOING TO PRETEND TO BE YOU, THROW ON A BLONDE WIG, AND BANG HIM FOR ALL WOMANKIND.
I laugh, shaking my head. She’s ridiculous.