Chapter 21
Lorelei’s mind kept wandering.She was in this gorgeous boutique, surrounded by the most stunning wedding gowns she’d ever seen, breathing in a scent so unique, so feminine, she wanted to buy it by the gallon...
And yet, she was still in that cabin.
Watching Slick race away from her.
The vibe had changed so abruptly, she’d had no idea what happened.
And it scared her. Because she’d begun to buy into the idea of a family. Of Slick being a father. A real one.
He was a natural with kids. Noa told her how he hadn’t hesitated to help Stevie with a puzzle. That he was patient and thoughtful. And that was before he’d known she was his daughter.
He’d even said he wanted to be in Stevie’s life.
But the moment he got a work call, he took off. Left town.
To be fair, he’d told her countless times that work came first. But somehow, she just kept spinning some stupid fantasy about them as a family.
He was never going to be the kind of dad she envisioned for her girl.
God, and to think she’d fantasized about sleeping with him in one of those cabins.
“This is designed for waifs.” Noa stood in front of a mannequin. “Fairies.”
Lorelei snapped out of it. Noa deserved her full attention. She’d be here for her friend. “I don’t know if that means you love it or hate it?”
“Shh. Oh, my God. Don’t let her hear you.” Noa glanced around the bridal shop.
“Don’t worry. Knox is in the backroom finding shoes in your size.” Lorelei touched the fabric. “Do you like it or no? I think it’s gorgeous.”
The stunning tulle dress had a draped corset bodice with off-the-shoulder straps, a tiny little waistline, and a floral-print skirt. The back plunged low.
“I couldn’t put my little toe in this. I wasn’t this size when I was Stevie’s age.” Noa cupped her hands at either side of the dress’s waist. “Girl, I was born with a woman’s body. But yes, I love it. It’s just too much material for me.”
“I can see that.”
Noa eyed it wistfully. “I don’t want to look like a parade float.”
“What about this one?” Lorelei gestured to a fit and flare gown with a plunging neckline and illusion sleeves. The dress looked transparent but had a skin-colored insert and was decorated with three-dimensional flowers.
“It’s stunning. But I want to dance. I want to eat. And I don’t want to spend my night thinking about my belly or my ass or thighs. You know what I mean?” Noa sighed. “I loved my dress so much. It took me a full year to find just the right one.”
“Oh, trust me. You’re not leaving here until you find one you love just as much—if not more.” Knox Holliday breezed out of the backroom, a pair of white satin pumps dangling off her fingers. “That’s a promise you can take to the bank.” She set the shoes on a dais. “Okay, so you don’t like a ton of material, and you don’t want the fit and flare.”
“Yes.” Noa looked worried, like she’d insulted the designer. “It’s not that I don’t love this dress. It’s stunning. It’s just?—”
Knox held up a hand. “We’d be here all week if you pretended to love everything. I promise, the only thing I care about is finding the right one for you.”
As the designer moved around the purple velvet chaise, Noa mouthed, “How is she so perfect?” Lorelei could only laugh. Knox was a beauty, no doubt. But her real beauty came from deep within. She was a genuinely nice person who seemed happy with where she was in life.
Throughout Lorelei’s entire career, she’d been striving. No level of success had ever been enough.
Even while raising Stevie, she was driven to be the best mom, to learn how to be self-sufficient. When would she ever reach a place where she stopped trying so hard?
“You showed me a picture of your gown.” Knox led them to the back of the store. “But since it was custom-made, I can’t recreate it. It’s entirely the designer’s vision. So, let’s start with the basics. What do you love about a wedding dress?” She stood in front of a row of cubbies, each one housing a different style. Mermaid. A-line. Sheath. Ball gown. Fit and Flare.
“Wow.” Noa’s voice was full of awe. “I’ve slipped through a portal and entered a magical world. I love everything here. But, okay, you want me to narrow it down. I know I want ultra-feminine. I want tulle and froth and lace—all the fantasy wedding gown stuff—but I don’t want to look like a frosted doughnut. Do you know what I mean?”
“Of course, I do.” Knox squeezed the bride’s hand. “I’ve dressed every body shape you can think of, and you won’t leave here until you feel perfectly comfortable and as feminine and gorgeous as you are.”
Lorelei wanted to hug the designer. As a performer, her friend had encountered too many stylists and designers who were so used to slender women that they didn’t understand the frustration of feeling your belly stick out under a belt or waistline, or your shoulders strain against fabric. Noa had been embarrassed countless times by dresses and shirts that were too tight in the sleeves.
“What do you think about empire waistlines?” Knox pulled a gown off the wood rack.
“I love them, but they make me look pregnant.”
“Got it. But you loved that one, right?” Knox pointed to the first dress, the one on the mannequin.
“I do. It’s just too much material. I’ll look like a parade float.”
Knox smiled. “You forget I’m a seamstress. I can give you all the things you love about the bodice—the transparent sleeves, the flowers, the plunging neckline—and put it on a different skirt.” She pulled out a ball gown-style dress. “And I can add the same flower overlay. I won’t have time to make handmade cutouts, but?—”
“I’ll take it.” Excitement gleamed in Noa’s eyes. “What you described is exactly what I want.” She sighed. “I love it so much.”
“Wonderful.” Knox smiled. “Then, let’s get some measurements. Give me a second to get the dressing room ready.” She took off.
“That was fast,” Lorelei said.
“Yeah, because every stylist I’ve ever worked with has told me what doesn’t work. Knox told me what she can do to make it work. She’s my new best friend.” Noa’s gaze roamed the boutique. “I wish she could design my entire tour wardrobe.”
“Make your next record a wedding theme, and you’re all set.”
“Right? I’d wear a different gown each night.” She clapped her hands together, her head tipping back with the comical expression of an epiphany. “Wait a minute. How fun would that be?”
“I think that would be wild. You should totally make that happen.”
Noa grinned. “Want to do it together?”
Lorelei sat with that suggestion a moment, opening herself to the possibility. “You know, that’s a hard no. My touring days are over.” And for whatever reason, she’d always written songs alone.
“It is pretty grueling.” Noa looked troubled. “I hate that I’ll be gone so long.”
“Well, it’s hockey season, so it’s not like he’ll be around either. And you’ll still be able to visit him.”
“You never miss it? This life?”
“No.” And she could say that with total honesty. “I don’t miss life on the road. I don’t miss all the merchandising and pirating issues. I don’t miss any of the business stuff.”
“What about performing? You don’t miss the rush of an audience who adores you?”
Not even Noa knew about her little jaunts to the bar. She didn’t know why she kept it a secret.
No, wait. She did. She didn’t want the pressure. If anyone knew what she was doing, they’d expect more. Her manager would start generating ideas for producers, projects, and collaborations. The AR rep from her old record label would fly out to listen to her, see what they could do to make her new songs more marketable.
Just thinking about it made her creative spirit shrivel. For now, she needed freedom. She needed space.
“I think, now that I have Stevie, I look back and see that none of it was real. They’re screaming for the idea of me. And I might’ve known that intellectually before, but when you stomp in mud puddles and walk around all day with dough in your hair and soothe an inconsolable baby, it just…it’s a whole new perspective on life and what matters.” Kind of like what she and Slick talked about in the cabin a couple years ago. “She adores me because of me.” But this outing was about Noa’s wedding. Not her deep revelations. “My daughter finds me delightful.”
“That’s because you are.” Noa kissed her cheek, leaving her in a cloud of her signature gardenia perfume. “So, I guess you said no to Jilly? I obviously did. It’s right in the middle of my tour.”
Lorelei had no idea what she was talking about. “Jilly Peterson?”
“Yeah, the producer.” Concern etched lines on Noa’s forehead. “Why? Did you have a bad experience with her?”
“No. Look what she did to Unbridled.” That was Lorelei’s first album to go platinum. It had the most requested songs at every concert she’d played around the world.
“Then, why are you looking at me funny?” Noa asked.
“Because I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The invitation. We all did a few lines from a song for a fundraiser, and now she wants us to perform it at the Grammys.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. We didn’t get together or anything. We didn’t even know who else was involved. We just recorded our bit on our own and turned it in. It was a few months ago.”
“I didn’t get an invitation. Not that I’m aware of.” Of course, between Stevie and renovations, she wasn’t exactly on top of her email. Even so, Jilly would’ve reached out. She would’ve made sure Lorelei got back to her.
“Well, that’s weird,” Noa said. “Why wouldn’t she include you?”
Shame flew up hot from her chest and spread across her cheeks. Her earlobes burned. “I retired.”
“Trust me. No one has forgotten Lorelei Calloway.” Noa said it firmly. “She knows you live out here in the woods with your baby girl. She probably assumed you wouldn’t do it.”
“Maybe.”
Noa pulled her into a hug. “You’re sad.”
“No, I’m not.” But she accepted the comfort. “I’m retired for a reason.” To be honest, she was more humiliated than sad. To be forgotten that easily stung. It hadn’t even been three years.
“I’m all ready for you,” Knox called.
“Come on.” She wrapped her arm around Noa’s waist. “Let’s see you in that dreamy dress.” When they got to the dressing room, she asked Knox, “What’s that scent? I’ve never smelled anything like it.”
“Oh, that’s Belle Starr. It’s a perfume my sister-in-law makes. It’s so good, we begged her to make a potpourri and candles. It’s lovely, isn’t it?”
“It is. Is it for sale?”
“Absolutely. It’s over there.” Knox pointed to a glass cabinet filled with accessories.
The moment Noa and Knox went into the spacious dressing room, her thoughts went right back to Jilly and embarrassment that the music industry could forget about her so easily.
And wasn’t that what she’d been saying? Unless you kept churning out material, kept touring, kept showing up on social media, you got lost under the endless talent that was hungrier for fame than you were.
After so many years of feeling important, it just sucked to not matter.
As she looked at the pearl necklaces and diamond tennis bracelets, the beautifully packaged bath salts, candles, and potpourris, she felt a tide of confidence coming in.
Because she wanted anonymity. She’d chosen it. She wanted to go shopping without getting mobbed. She wanted to take Stevie into town for ice cream and not get harassed by eager fans.
She liked her life. And she didn’t need a father for Stevie. She was a great mom, and she had her parents and siblings helping her raise her daughter.
She’d let Slick figure out his own role. She’d stay out of it.
Emotionally, too. She wasn’t going to weave some fantasy about a happy family.
She and Slick would not pick up where they left off. There’d be no romance.
It was all about Stevie having a dad.
* * *
Booker entered the house quietly. He was exhausted, hungry, and needed a shower after seven hours on airplanes. It had been a hell of a day.
Even as he climbed the stairs, his phone continued to vibrate in his pocket. As much as he wanted to ignore it, he couldn’t. A sports agent was never off the grid.
Ian: Hey, man. Any chance you can help me out? Just found out my bro’s been arrested. I’m on vacation with the fam. Can you handle it?
Booker: Yeah, of course. Details?
The basketball player gave him the precinct and information. It was late in New York, but he called the concierge service he used. Like a pro, the man answered immediately.
“Hey, what’s up?” The guy sounded like a stoner, but he was actually sharp and on the ball. And discreet.
Booker relied on him for just about everything. “I’m going to forward you some information. A client’s brother needs a criminal attorney in Memphis. I know Price is off for maternity leave. You got somebody else?”
“Yeah, of course. I’m on it.”
“Thanks, man.” He disconnected, and Booker knew without a doubt, the man would handle the situation. As he shut himself into his room, relief swept over him. He started to kick off his shoes and unbutton his khakis, but the knock on the door stopped him.
Hellcat? Man, he hoped so.
But when he opened it, he saw Ginty in a white robe, hotel slippers, and a stack of towels in his hands. “What’s up, princess?”
The hockey player chuckled. “Lor went all out. Have you checked your bathroom? She even has that hair mask shit. Makes your hair really soft.”
“Oh, good.” Booker touched his hair. “My ends have been so dry.”
“Fuck off. Hey, we’re going in the hot tub.” He offered a towel. “Want to come?”
No, he didn’t. But he never said no to a client, so he took one. “I’ve got a few calls to make, but I’ll catch up with you in a few minutes.”
“Everything okay?”
His energy flagged, so it wasn’t a surprise that Ginty could read that.
“Lor said you went to see the Canadian kid. How’d it go?”
Normally, he didn’t talk about other clients or prospects, but he and Ginty had a different kind of relationship. “I got five minutes of his dad’s time. Just enough to hear, ‘Thanks for all you’ve done to get us here, but at this point, we’ve decided to go with a bigger firm. You understand.’”
“What? That sucks. Anything you can do?”
“I told him there’s more at stake than money. That he needed to consider his son’s long-term career and his mental health. Most agents don’t give a shit about any of that. They want the commission.”
Ginty nodded. “I can speak to that. You saved more than my career. You saved my life.”
“Ginty?” Noa called. “You coming?”
“Just a second.” He turned back to Booker. “All you can do is present your argument. You’ve got no control over the decision he makes. If he makes the wrong one, I’m pretty sure he’ll be calling you not too far in the future. You’re the best, and I mean that sincerely.”
“Well, thanks. I appreciate it.” And he did. In fact, he needed to hear it.
“Clients are pains in the asses, aren’t we?” Ginty smiled.
“Some of them are.” Like the guy who’s on vacation and can’t be bothered to handle his brother’s arrest. He’d rather interrupt Booker’s scheduled break. “But most are great. Most are like you.”
“Yeah, at least things have settled down for me.” Ginty thought about it for a moment and then burst out laughing. “That’s a good one. My family sold our wedding information, and now we’re hiding out on this remote ranch, making our closest friends scramble to pull something together for us. Yep. Settled down, all right.”
“Baby?” Noa called, her voice rich with suggestion. “You want to see this lingerie I bought at the boutique today? I’ll model it just for you.”
Ginty’s eyes went fiery, and he snatched the towel back. “I take back the invitation. Things are about to get freaky.” He slapped Booker on the shoulder and headed off.
“Hey, have you seen Lorelei?” he called, leaning out into the hallway.
“Last I saw, she was putting the kid to bed.” And then Ginty bent his knees, lifted his bride into his arms, and ran the rest of the way down the hallway to the stairs.
Booker felt a weird tug in his heart that he’d missed out on reading to Stevie, and that shook him to his core. Because, sure, he’d read to his clients’ kids before. But that wasn’t the longing he felt.
It was to be part of the bedtime routine. With Hellcat and his daughter.
Almost like…a family.
Fuck my life.
You know what I need? Food. A beer. And a workout.
He’d go downstairs and grab something to eat first. But just as he left his room, he saw Hellcat heading down the long hallway that bridged to the main part of the former lodge. Curious, he took off after her. “Hellcat?”
She didn’t seem to hear him. It was only when she turned into a room that he saw the earbuds. By the time he caught up with her, she was playing a piano. He didn’t want to interrupt, so he stood outside and listened.
Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned against the doorway. Her voice was powerful, with a captivating depth of emotion. The starts and stops gave him the impression she was working on a song.
When she stilled, bent over the keys, she muttered, “You suck.”
She thought she was alone, and he was intruding on her privacy. “Hey.”
She started, her eyes going wide. “Slick? What’re you doing here?”
“I was looking for you.”
“Well, you found me.” She seemed rattled, almost guilty, as if he’d caught her rifling through his suitcase and pocketing his watch.
Dammit. He shouldn’t have followed her. “I’m sorry for interrupting you. It won’t happen again.”
Everything about her softened. “No, it’s not like that. It’s fine. I have no secrets.” When her gaze cut away, she laughed. “Well, I guess I do. I don’t know. If anyone hears me playing, they’ll start asking questions. ‘Are you working on new material? When’re you going to cut another record?’”
“And you don’t want pressure.”
“Exactly. But I’m about to have a house full of people here, so if I don’t want questions, I better stay out of this room.”
Other than a piano, it had a beanbag chair and some toys. The room itself was nice. High ceilings, lots of windows, and wood-paneled walls. “Is this going to be your studio?” When she flinched, he realized what he’d done. She didn’t want to commit to anything with her career. “Sorry. I get it. You need the space to create. No expectations.”
“That’s exactly right.” As she took in the mostly empty room, her gaze turned wistful. “And at the same time, I want drums and percussion. I want session musicians to jam with me. I want all the fun parts and none of the bad ones.”
Here it is. Us in the cabin. It all came rushing back, this connection between them. He liked when she opened up to him, when they were real with each other. “And what are the bad parts?”
“The exhaustion of touring, the anxiety of dropping a record and waiting to see the world’s response. The haters who make fun of your voice, your style, your expressions, your body.”
“Do you think you’ll ever go back?”
“I’ll never tour again. I don’t want that life. None of it. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop the melodies, the lyrics…the chords from bubbling up. I don’t know if it’s habit or what, but I miss music.”
“You’re a songwriter. You just haven’t figured out what to do with it.
She gave him a soft smile. “Yeah. Pretty much.”
“You can sell songs and stay behind the scenes.” But what she’d just said about jamming and session musicians told him she wanted more. “This used to be a camp. It’s got twelve cabins. You can build a studio?—”
“Gigi Cavanaugh has one. Calamity doesn’t need another recording studio.”
“You’ve obviously thought about it.”
“Yeah. But Stevie’s so little, and I…” She froze, her expression seizing in an alarmed look.
He knew exactly what she was thinking. Can I trust you? Or are you temporary? And he deserved that. He’d fucked up. “And you what?”
“I want her to come first. I don’t want to be annoyed when she interrupts me. I don’t want to be out of town during her recital. I want to be here and make music.”
“How does that look to you?”
Hope and yearning bloomed in her beautiful blue eyes. “I haven’t said it out loud, but I think I want this to be a retreat.”
He unfolded his arms. Interesting.
“I don’t want a recording studio because that’s stressful—getting the right sound, the right quality…nailing it. I want this place to encourage art and expression. I want people to come here and feel as wild and free as the wilderness surrounding them.”
“You should see your eyes right now, the way you light up when you talk about it. Sounds like you know exactly what you should be doing.”
“I think so.” She sounded hesitant.
“But?” What was he missing?
“I want it to be more than a retreat where bands come to work on their songs. I wouldn’t charge them for being here, but I’d like them to pay it forward. I’d like to have scholarships for artists who don’t have the money or the support to pursue their dreams.”
“And they’d get private lessons from successful musicians.”
She nodded. “Is that crazy? I haven’t thought it through, and please don’t tell anyone?—”
He rushed into the room. “It’s fucking brilliant. You’re brilliant.” Driven by that familiar connection between them, he reached for her.
But she pulled away, her eyes hardened.
And he felt like crap. It was time to talk to her. “I came here looking for you so I could apologize.”
“For what?” Her tone was guarded.
“I bailed on you this morning, and that was a shitty thing to do.”
She waved him away. “You needed to check on a client, and today was a good day to do it. Besides, I have plenty of help, and the guests don’t come till tomorrow.”
“No. Don’t give me a pass.” Now, he had her attention. “Yes, it was work, and yes, it felt important at the time, but I’ve had seven hours on an airplane to think, and I know I could’ve found another way to meet with him. The truth is… This morning with you, in that cabin…it was good.” They’d played and laughed, just like that Christmas together. “And it made me uncomfortable. I haven’t wrapped my head around this situation yet.”
“This situation? Do you mean your daughter? Stevie is not a situation.”
He held up both hands. “I know. But this is complicated. You’re not some hookup to me. You’re the woman I fell hard for in the cabin.”
“Not too hard if you could sneak off like that.”
“I left a note.”
She looked at him like he was a moron. “Do you think for one second I would’ve left a note after what we shared? You should’ve woken me up and said goodbye, and you know it. That note was a nod to your conscience. ‘See, I did the right thing.’ Well, to a woman who’d given you her whole self, that was not even close to the right thing. I didn’t expect a ring, and I understood we’d never see each other again, but?—”
“Well, I wasn’t, okay? I wasn’t fine with never seeing you again. I was ready to see if we could make it work. But then Beau sent you that text message, and I knew it was the wrong timing for both of us. And that note was a link—a way for you to contact me if you didn’t reconcile with your ex.”
“Really? Because that’s not what it said. And guess what? I can’t read between the lines. If you felt something as big as that, you should’ve communicated it.” Color stained her cheeks, and her eyes glistened. “You have no idea how much it would’ve mattered.”
He wished he could hold her. He wished… he would’ve done a lot of things differently. “I felt it then, and I’m feeling it now. And it scares me, okay? And so, when I got that text message this morning, I ran. Because being in that cabin, playing that game with the Velcro…” He made a circular motion around his head. “It stirred it all up again. You and me…and it just?—”
“Feels right.” She gazed up at him with a searching expression. As if she looked to him for a solution.
But that was the point: he didn’t have one. “I live in New York.”
Her features fell. “And we’re never going to be a happy little family.”
Since he couldn’t say the words out loud, all he could do was nod.
“A part of me wishes we could give that to Stevie.” She shrugged. “It just makes me so sad that she doesn’t get a daddy.”
“Now, hang on. I said I’m not going anywhere. I’m her father, and I take that seriously.”
“She doesn’t need a note from you, Slick. Take it from a woman who grew up believing she had a dad who didn’t want to be in her life.”
“But I’m going to be in her life. I want to.”
“Oh, come on. Let’s face it. You never set your phone down. You said yourself you travel half the year. I get that you’ll step up and be a father, but you know as well as I do, she’s not going to have the kind of dad you had.”
The dagger of truth slid right into his heart.
And it nearly dropped him to his knees.