Chapter 12 Gabi #2
"Of course," I say, probably too quickly since I’m trying to finish mixing the batter and getting X-rated thoughts out of my head. "I'm a girl from Louisiana. It's that and southern rap. Those are the options.”
"I've always wanted to go to Mardi Gras," Maddox says.
"I'm sure you have," I say teasingly. “I was born closer to Baton Rouge, but Mardi Gras is something that every Louisianan has experienced.”
“Is it one of those things that as you grow older, you get more tired of it because you’ve known it your whole life?”
“Kind of,” I say. “When we were kids, the daytime parades were always fun and a little bit more family friendly. But as we got older and we started learning about the real parties, we all couldn't wait for that first time we could end up on Bourbon Street.”
“I would’ve totally snuck down there.”
“Oh I did. I was seventeen. By far the most rebellious thing I’ve ever done.”
God it was fun. It was my group of friends from high school, including Shelby and Hannah.
Actually, Shelby orchestrated it. Hannah panicked the whole time that we were going to get caught.
The guys we went with, including Justin, were drunk from the moment we pulled out of the gas station parking lot we met at.
We were young and wild and free. We didn’t know about true hardships.
Or loss. Or that the boy you were holding hands and dancing with on Bourbon Street would one day devastate you in ways you didn’t think imaginable.
“Did you get caught?” Maddox asks.
“Yes and no. Our parents knew, but we didn’t get in trouble. Sneaking out for Mardi Gras is a rite of passage. They knew they couldn’t say a thing to us because they did the same thing when they were our age.”
“Do you go back often for it?”
“Not really. I did in college—you know, when we were legally old enough to drink. But after a while, like you said, it kind of lost its luster.”
“When was the last time you went back?”
“Jeez… maybe eight, nine years ago? Justin and I…”
I trail off as I think about that night.
We went to visit family and friends. A group of guys we went to high school with were going down for the night, so we tagged along.
I ended up getting sick and passing out before nine o'clock. He stumbled in around four in the morning smelling like a perfume that wasn’t mine.
I chalked it up to old friends, crowded bars, and the party that is Mardi Gras.
He’ll never admit it, but I’m convinced that was the first time he cheated.
“Can I ask you a question?” Maddox asks, walking back toward me as I turn off the stand mixer.
“Sure.”
“Why did you stay here?”
“Why did I stay where?”
“Nashville. Your family is in Louisiana. Hannah is there, right? Why did you stay in a city that you lived in because of him?”
I stop what I’m doing and wipe my hands on a towel, assuming the same position as him with my backside against the table.
“I know that’s what it seems like on the outside, but that’s only because he had the career first. He was always going to make more money than me once his schooling was over.
That doesn’t mean he has more of a claim to us being here. ”
We start rolling our cookies, working side by side. I don’t mind sharing this story with him, but not having to look him in the eye will make it so much easier.
“Vanderbilt was actually my idea, Justin came along for the ride.” I scoff as I realize that was the last time he went along with one of my ideas.
“I’m sure when I started looking at colleges, I convinced myself coming here was because of the school.
That it was the right college to attend for a would-be business woman and a doctor.
But in reality, I’d always had a love for Nashville.
“Being a music fan, I adored the idea that any night of the week I could be out and hear someone singing who could one day be accepting a Grammy. I loved that when you got off the plane at the airport there was live music.”
“The guy out front of Tootsies in the airport is really good,” he adds. “Heard him sing Tennessee Whiskey once and I swore it was actually the real singer.”
“Exactly. My parents brought me here when I was eight and I’d been enamored with it ever since.”
I turn to look at Maddox, and to my surprise, he’s also looking at me. Hanging on to every word I say.
“I was going to make this work no matter what. Because in reality, I’m the reason he’s here in the first place. And like hell if I’m going to leave.”
“Fuck yeah,” he says. “Good for you standing your ground.”
“Thanks,” I say as I turn my attention back to the cookies. “Okay, into the oven for nine minutes.”
“Nine minutes?” he asks as he puts the trays in the oven. “Why not ten?”
“Because eight isn’t enough and ten’s too many.”
“Yes ma’am,” he says with a mock salute as we walk back over to the table where our things are. I grab the Coke Zero and take a sip while Maddox sits across from me.
“So since you’ve been in Nashville a lot longer than me, what are your favorite things to do here?”
I think about his question for a second, and immediately feel a sense of gloom. “Is it sad that I don’t know?”
“Depends on why you don’t know.”
I take another sip before setting it down as I gather my thoughts. “Because I’ve never gotten to experience this city like I wanted to.”
Maddox leans forward on his elbows. “Why not?”
“In college I was working two jobs and going to school. The option for night life wasn’t in the budget for me.”
“I’m guessing it was for douche bag?”
That makes me smile. “Of course it was. He always found a way to head out with his friends—especially during undergrad. After graduation, if we went out, it was mostly whatever he wanted to do. And it was never things I wanted to do. I’ve never been to the Opry or to the Ryman.
I’ve never been to a Fury game or any sporting event for that matter.
Heck, I’ve only been on the rooftop at Tootsies once.
What kind of Nashville-ite am I with that kind of resume? ”
“The roof is crowded, you aren’t missing a lot,” Maddox says with a wink. “But the Fury game? That’s unforgivable.”
“I know, I hear they’re pretty good,” I tease.
“Are you going to go do those things?”
I shrug. “I want to. Maybe. Eventually. When things settle down.”
“Or you could start now,” he says. “No better time than the present.”
“I know, but I don’t have anyone to go with. And I know I should feel empowered enough to take myself to a concert, but it’s… I don’t know… unsettling.”
“Ahem,” he coughs, making overdramatic gestures to himself. “I’m right here.”
“You’d go with me?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Of course. What else are best friends for?”
How could I forget? “Really? Because one of the things I want to do next Christmas is walk through the lights at Opryland. You’d do that?”
“Are you kidding me? I fucking love Christmas. I’ll drive the damn sleigh.” As the words leave his mouth, I watch a lightbulb go off above his head. Not really, but the way his brown eyes light up it might as well have. “Oh! Let’s make a list!”
Like a whirlwind, Maddox reaches over for the book bag he brought and pulls out a… notebook?
“Do you always carry around a random notebook?”
“In season, yes. For plays and to take notes in meetings. I know everything is on tablets these days, but I like making hand-written notes. Helps me remember.”
“You really are a forty-year-old in a twenty-four-year-old body.”
“Guilty as charged,” he says as he opens up a page. “I brought this today so I could write down the recipes and any notes. Which I need to jot down the thing about not too much flour at a time and the nine minutes. But! We can take a page and start making date night ideas.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Maddox...”
He looks back at me with an equally challenging look. “Gabrielle.”
The fact that he always comes back with my full name when I say his like he’s in trouble, is both endearing and frustrating all at the same time. Endearing because it’s him. Frustrating because I know he’s about to charm me into something.
“I told you. No dates. I can’t date you.”
“Dates? Did I say dates? That must’ve been someone else.” He waves me off like I was hearing things. “I meant friend dates. I forgot a word. Silly me. Old hypothetical age and all. Makes me forget things.”
I laugh under my breath. “Listen, this is sweet but—”
“But nothing,” he says. “Call them friend dates. Call them hangouts. Make up a word, for all I care. What I want you to do is write down nine things you want to do from now until the end of the year. I’ll add on any ideas I have. And this is going to be our Best Friend Activities Book.”
I look down at the notebook then back up to Maddox.
God, this man… his smile is big and there’s a twinkle in his eyes.
I know I questioned whether or not I could be friends with a man who I’ve one: slept with; two: who has feelings for me; and three: smells really good which doesn’t help the fact that I’m apparently now a horny woman.
But the genuine smile he’s giving me right now… I don’t know how I can say no.
“Nine things?” I ask.
“Yup. Because eight isn’t enough, and ten is too many.”
As if on cue, my phone alarm goes off, alerting me that the cookies are done.
“Oh! Let me get them!” Maddox says, jumping up with all the energy of a golden retriever.
“Don’t forget the oven mitts!” I call out.
He comes to a screeching stop, grabbing the mitts that I leave next to the oven, as he opens it and pulls out two trays of oversized chocolate chip cookies.
“Holy shit! I did it!” he exclaims. “I mean, you helped. But I made cookies!”
I laugh as I watch his excitement, before looking down again at his notebook.
I need to say no. Tell him thanks, and that his heart is in the right place, but that this is a little much.
Except I know damn well I’m not going to.