Chapter 4
GABI
Oh Gabi…what are you getting yourself into?
I’ve asked myself that question no less than ten times since Maddox sweet-talked me and the girls into coming over here, but as I sit here, surrounded by football players and their partners, I have to ask myself again, because… what in the actual hell have I got myself into?
Sure, from the outside this looks innocent enough.
It’s me and my two best friends, surrounded by a bunch of football players and their partners.
Shelby has been in a very deep, and flirtatious, conversation with one of the coaches who recognized her.
Hannah has become besties with one of the player’s girlfriends named Ainsley.
Then there’s me. Again, from the outside, things seem innocent enough.
I’m sitting next to Maddox, my legs crossed into him because that’s the way I like to cross my legs.
It’s not signaling anything. It’s not me trying to be closer to him.
Sure, it’s helping me lean in closer, but only because the music is loud and I’m trying to hear him better.
I’m also not thinking about other special talents that he referred to having.
Nope. None of those are true.
Except they are… because what the hell am I getting myself into, and why do I want a Vegas rebound with a twenty-something football player?
“So, Gabriella, where are you from?”
I laugh. “It’s Gabrielle. But no one calls me that.”
“Fair enough. Okay, Gabi, same question. Where are you from?”
I smile at the simple question. “Are you actually trying to get to know me?”
“Of course,” he says, like my question is a crazy one. “I want to know as much about you as I possibly can.”
I don’t know if it’s the vodka, the closeness, or the way his eyes have not wandered from me once, but I believe him.
I assumed that if he was interested in me that it would just be for a potential hookup tonight.
Which, I don’t think I’m opposed to. Emphasis on think.
It would be a fun, Vegas divorce-party story to say I hooked up with a hot football player on the night he won the championship.
Then again, I’ve never really been a hookup girl—that’s what you get for getting married at twenty-two to your high school sweetheart—but I didn’t think small talk was part of it. Then again, what do I know?
“Originally outside of Baton Rouge. Now I live in Nashville.”
His eyes double in size at my revelation. “We live in the same city?”
I can’t help but laugh at his excitement. “I do. I’m on the west side. And let me guess, you’re in some posh condo downtown?”
“Guilty as charged. In my defense, it makes my work commute very easy.”
“I can see that,” I say. “Though I’m taking your word for it. I’ve never been to a game. But I do know where the stadium is.”
“What!” he yells, apparently more shocked by my lack of attendance than our close city proximity. “How long have you lived there?”
“Since college, so…seventeen years?”
I stare at Maddox, waiting for the realization to hit him that when I was moving here to go to college, he was probably on his way to junior high. I really want to ask him his age—or excuse myself to the bathroom to Google it—because I know it must be at least ten years.
So again…what the fuck am I doing here? This is an extremely handsome, much younger, football player. He can’t actually be interested in a mid-thirty’s divorcée, right?
“What made you come here for college instead of staying near home?” he asks.
That wasn’t the follow-up I was expecting. But if he’s going to ignore the glaring age difference, then fuck it, so will I. “It was the best school for both me and my ex.”
“Let me guess… Nashville means Vanderbilt, which means doctor for at least one of you.”
“Him,” I admit. “I went into business. Wanted to have my own business one day.”
“So you’re beautiful and smart?”
I feel myself blushing at his words. “I don’t know about that.”
“Well I do,” he says, moving in a little closer. His fingers delicately brush the exposed skin on my shoulder, sending shivers straight down my spine. “So, what kind of business?”
If he’s only trying to get to know me to get me into bed tonight it’s working. A man who listens? Who’s interested in me? Who isn’t making every conversation point about him? After spending nearly two decades with Justin, I didn’t know this kind of man could exist.
And it’s hot as hell.
“A bakery. Opened one last year with my brother over in the West End. It’s called—”
“Holy shit, that’s where I know you!” The player sitting next to Ainsley, who was introduced as her boyfriend, Linc, claps his hands in excitement.
“I’ve been staring at you all night, trying to figure out why you looked familiar.
You own Sugar and Sweets! Ainsley! This is the place I found with the brownies you like! ”
“Seriously?” she exclaims, stopping her conversation with Hannah to turn fully to me. “Linc discovered you a few months ago and we are obsessed. He brings me something every week. I don’t know what you put into your brownies, but I’ll pay you all the money in my purse right now for the secret.”
I feel the blush coming over my cheeks at their praise. “Thank you. It's a small place, but it's mine.”
“Oh no, we don’t talk like that around here,” Ainsley says. “We’re proud of our accomplishments. And when you can make baked goods like that? You own that.”
“Preach!” Shelby shouts out, holding her drink in the air. “Maybe she’ll listen to you, because she sure as shit doesn’t listen to me.”
“In my defense, I’m trying,” I say, knowing that me having confidence in my business, and doing it on my own, is something I’m still working on. “But thank you, Ainsley. I really do appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome,” she says. “I know this isn’t the best place to ask this, but I don’t want to forget—do you do custom cakes and orders?
I've been meaning to come in, but between my job and this guy’s football schedule, I couldn’t seem to get over there, and I have a few events that I’d love if I could order from you. ”
“Yes. Yes, I do,” I say, a little shocked that the conversation has turned this way. My bakery isn’t struggling per se, but I could definitely use the business. “Come in next week when you’re settled. I’m there from open to close every day, so you really can’t miss me.”
“Amazing,” Ainsley says with a smile before turning a stern glare and a pointed finger to Maddox. “Now, don't break her heart tonight. Because my sister deserves an amazing engagement cake that she doesn’t know about yet.”
Maddox puts his hands over his heart in a dramatic shock.
“Ainsley, how dare you insinuate that I would treat this woman with anything but respect?” He adds to the drama by pulling me in tighter.
“Plus, do you think that I would ever jeopardize the possibility of becoming a regular at a bakery where I know the owner?
If you think that, then you don't know me at all.”
“Your sweet tooth is going to save the day,” Ainsley says.
“Damn straight it is,” he says before turning back to me. “A day without a sweet treat is a day wasted.”
I’m pretty sure he’s talking about desserts, but the twinkle in his eye says he might be meaning a little more.
I choose to ignore it, though, because I’m already very overwhelmed.
“That’s a good slogan. I’ll have to remember that the next time I run an ad,” I say as we both relax back into the couch we’re sitting on.
I also take notice that he doesn't make a point of releasing his hold on me. “So what's your poison?”
“I mean, what isn’t?” His eyes light up at my question like he’s a toddler about to tell Santa what he wants for Christmas.
“I mean, any kind of cookie. Chocolate chip is my favorite, but they have to be soft. None of that crunchy shit. Also, people hate on oatmeal raisin, but if it's done right, it’s fire. I don't always go for scones, but I could do one from time to time. Of course, there's pie. Pie is undefeated. Apple, specifically. I’ll always have two or three slices of cake if there’s cake to be had, and no, it doesn’t matter the flavor or the kind of icing. I’ll eat it.”
I can’t help but laugh. “So you really don’t have a favorite?”
“Oh, I didn’t say that,” he says, the smile on his face right now accentuated because of the dimple in his cheek. “Because if you told me right now that I could only have one dessert for the rest of my life, I would have to say a bear claw. That is my favorite and my final answer.”
I picked the wrong moment to take a sip of my champagne. I nearly choke on it because of his answer. “Really? A bear claw?”
“Hell, yeah,” he says with confidence. “They're delicious. But why are you looking at me like that?”
Maddox is probably referring to the tilt of my head I’m doing now along with a raise eyebrow.
“Because no man in his twenties—which I’m assuming you are, but also don’t want to do the math of how much younger you are than me—has ever come into my bakery asking for a bear claw.
You don't fit the age demographic of the normal bear claw consumer, who are collecting retirement checks.”
“I’m wise beyond my years,” he says.
“I’m sure you are.”
The two of us share a smile and a quiet moment, even though the noise around us is deafening.
The part of me that hates uncomfortable silence wants to try and quickly figure out something to say.
But oddly enough, I don’t feel like I need to.
Which I can safely say hasn’t happened in… well… maybe ever.
Luckily for me, one of his teammates breaks the silence for me.
“Maddox! We’re going up to sing. You coming?”
He shakes his head and waves them off. “Nah. You guys go for it.”
I think every set of eyes in the VIP area just turned to Maddox in a confused look. They’re all speechless, and frankly, so am I?
“Really?” I ask. “The self-proclaimed karaoke connoisseur isn’t going up to sing?”
“Not now,” he says, turning more toward me. “I’d rather be here with you.”
The way those words are delivered make my heart jump out of my chest.
Or my pussy.
Okay. Both.
“Are you always so direct?” I ask, still wondering what kind of man comes out and says things plainly.
“No sense in beating around the bush,” he says. “Life is short. Why waste time with games and innuendos? I think everything in this world would be better if we said what we meant, went after the things we wanted, and lived every moment like it was our last.”
His words hit me square in the heart. That kind of thinking, especially from a man, is so foreign to me.
Justin was the king of games, lies, and innuendos.
He’d talk out of both sides of his mouth and when he got caught, it would spin into a new lie.
I can’t even begin to list all the times he did it, especially when I started having an inkling he was cheating.
Looking back, he’d been doing it for years, I just didn’t notice.
I was blinded by love and the promise I’d made to stay with him forever.
And then there’s the last part of Maddox’s statement about living every moment like it’s our last. It’s a mantra I’ve always wanted to live by, but never felt that I could.
How could I live in the moment when I was married.
Had bills. A mortgage. I thought then it was a luxury I didn’t have.
Now post divorce, I have my bakery and am rebuilding my life essentially from the ground up.
It might sound good to live like you are dying, but reality always comes back to remind you about the world you live in and the responsibilities you have.
But maybe tonight it doesn’t have to…
“Maddox?”
“Yeah?”
“What if I said that I wanted to sing a song? With you.”
His eyes light up. “Any song you want. And I literally mean anything.”
I can’t wipe the smile off my face when I see Hannah jump up and start clapping. “Oh my God! She’s going to sing! Shelby! She’s really going to sing!”
“Fuck yeah,” Shelby says. “I personally think you should go back to your show choir days.”
“Show choir huh?” Maddox says as he stands up in front of me. “I should let you know, I’m quite the showman myself. As you could see from my performance earlier. And while I think my teammates are doing a hell of a job up there, I think a duet is exactly what this place needs.”
My initial reaction is to change my mind when Maddox holds out his hand for me, even though I’m the one who suggested it.
One moment of doubt is all I need to wonder if this is a good idea.
I mean, after thirteen years of being married to a man who hated when I sang doesn’t go away with the signature of a divorce paper.
Then I remember Maddox’s words. Why I’m here this weekend. The dress I’m wearing. That Justin hated anytime I even hummed.
I smile up at Maddox, who’s hand hasn’t moved as he waits for me.
“I can really pick the song?”
Maddox’s smile is at full wattage now. “Gorgeous, you can pick whatever song you like.”