14. 14
Hayes
Now
L ost and found. I lost her a year ago, but now I’ve found her.
When my gaze collided with Annabelle’s, a shock ran through my body like I have never experienced, rendering me momentarily mute.
After six months of looking for her under every nook and cranny and another six months trying to purge her from my system and failing miserably, I found Annabelle.
I want to give in to my baser instincts and claim her as mine like the total caveman I am, but it’s obvious how uncomfortable she feels. She stands rigid, her eyes wide as her gaze ricochets between Josh, Aiden, and me.
So, I stand still as I try to piece together and understand the unfolding situation.
How do Josh and Aiden know her?
Better question: how the hell did Annabelle end up on a date with Josh?
Before I can figure things out, Annabelle flees from the bar.
Aiden watches her run, seemingly as astonished and confused as the rest of us. Turning to me, he asks, “How do you know Kyle Morris’ widow?”
My eyebrows meet my hairline as I take an involuntary step back.
Annabelle was married to Kyle Morris .
Everyone’s eyes dart toward mine in disbelief, but I’m just as stunned as they are.
She was married to a guy who worked at M&M Records.
A guy who died.
When I met her at Tank’s last year, she wasn’t upset about a broken engagement or a divorce. She was fucking mourning the death of her husband.
She’s a widow.
I met Kyle more than a handful of times throughout the years because he worked closely with Aiden.
Shit, if I remember correctly, Kyle had kids, which means… Annabelle is a mother.
Josh touches my elbow, knocking me out of my reverie. “Man, I had no idea. I never would have asked her out if I’d known that she was Annabelle. Your Annabelle .” He adds with a slow headshake. “What a fucking wild turn of events!”
Gobsmacked, Aiden grunts, “Anna Morris is Annabelle? ! ”
Rowdy steps up, nudging me. “Hayes, get going. You can’t let her walk away. Go get her. Talk to her, man. Don’t let this opportunity pass you by, even if it’s just to get closure.”
His words break through my mental fog and spur me into action.
Breaking away from the group, I jog out the front doors of the bar, pausing when I hit the street, unsure which way she traveled.
Glancing to my left, I don’t see her, but when I look to my right, I see a familiar woman’s form doubled over on the sidewalk a few blocks up, and I break into a sprint to catch up with her.
“Annabelle!”
Her head jerks up when she hears me yell.
Tears track down her cheeks, but she doesn’t run again.
I move toward her with slow steps, as if I were approaching a skittish animal.
When I reach her, I loosely wrap my arms around her body and pull her into an embrace.
She sinks into me, and I relish the feeling of holding her again.
I lay my head on hers and breathe in her cherry vanilla scent.
She smells the same, and it brings back a deluge of memories, more vivid than ever.
To hold her again, it feels right.
No, it feels perfect how her body fits with mine.
I lost her once, but I won’t lose her again.
“Why’d you tell me your name was Hayes?”
Her random question surprises me. “Josh, James, Rowdy, and I grew up in the same town, and we played sports together in high school. Football was my first love, and on game days, we’d wear our jerseys, which had our last names printed on them, so everybody from our hometown always called me Hayes.
” I shrug. “Those closest to me, who know me best, still do.”
“So, why’d you introduce yourself as Hayes to me? ”
I scratch my eyebrow with my thumb, unsettled by her question. Rather than answer, I turn the tables and ask, “Why’d you tell me your name was Annabelle?”
“Because it is. I go by Anna, though.” She pulls away and pauses, letting out a heavy exhale. “But the night we met… That night I didn’t want to be Anna. I didn’t want to be a widow or a single mom or a woman who was lost and sad and crumpling. I just wanted to be someone else for a little while.”
A group of loud, drunken college students stumble past, jostling us and snapping me back to reality.
We’re in the middle of a crowded sidewalk, having an emotional conversation, which is exactly the kind of scene I should be avoiding.
All it would take is one photo, and our private moment would become tomorrow’s headline.
I can imagine the tabloids running wild with speculation, twisting the image of me holding a crying woman into some lurid story .
“Hey, can we go somewhere to talk? Somewhere more private?” Annabelle looks hesitant. “Just talking, I promise. Nothing more.”
After a few moments, she nods.
“My truck is this way.” Taking her hand, I guide her to the parking garage where I parked my truck.
How quickly things have changed. Ten minutes ago, when I walked into the bar, I planned to enjoy a night out with the boys, but now, celebrating our new record contract is the farthest thing from my mind.
Opening the door for her, I settle her into the passenger seat. Her movements are slow and unsteady, so I lean into the cab of the truck and reach across her torso to buckle the seat belt around her waist. It’d be so easy to kiss her right now, but I resist the impulse.
She’s not Annabelle tonight.
She’s Anna. A widow, a mother, and a woman who may still be a little lost despite the intervening year.
I pull the truck onto the street, glancing over at Annabelle. “My condo isn’t far. Or we could find a quiet coffee shop, somewhere off the beaten path. There’s one not too far away.”
“Your condo is fine, Hayes.” Her eyes meet mine briefly before she whispers, “I’m sorry I held back so much from you that night. I lied by omission. I should have been more forthright about my situation.”
“You owed me nothing, Annabelle. We were strangers who had a one-night stand.” Her recoil is almost imperceptible, but I still notice it, making me instantly regret my words.
“Let me rephrase. It started out as a one-night stand, but… our night together ended up meaning a lot to me.” I reach across the truck’s center console to grasp her chilled hand in mine.
“Obviously, I left out some relevant details regarding my life, too. I think we both enjoyed leaving reality behind for a night.”
Leading Annabelle into the lobby of my building, we enter my private elevator and ascend toward the penthouse. Walking her through the front foyer, I invite Annabelle to sit down in the living room. “Want a drink? I’ve got red wine and tequila. Or just about anything else,” I offer.
Cocking her head to the left, a faint smile crosses her lips. “You remember what I drank that night?”
“Yankee, I remember everything about that night,” I confess. “Every word, every look, every move you made is branded onto my heart.” Sinking down next to her on the couch, I reach out to tuck a tendril of her hair behind her ear. My fingers linger on her cheek.
“Likewise,” she murmurs, her response making my heart beat a little faster.
She won’t meet my eyes for more than a second before her gaze drops again. It’s such a stark contrast to the spunky woman I met at Tank’s .
I want Annabelle back. But do I have the patience to get to know Anna, to peel back her layers and find the Annabelle she hides within herself?
I place a finger under her chin and tip her face heavenward. “Hey, what’s running through your mind? Why are you so nervous right now? It’s just me. The guy you met a year ago and called an asshole. Multiple times, I might add.” My smirk is contagious, and Annabelle sends me a quick grin.
“You were kind of an asshole.”
“Agreed. I was. Until I wasn’t.”
She turns her body toward mine on the couch.
“You might be the same guy I met at Tank’s, but I’m not the same woman.
You spent the night with Annabelle, a woman who doesn’t exist. Not really, anyway.
But as Anna, I have so much baggage. I can’t be the type of woman who randomly gets drunk at a motel bar on a Tuesday and shacks up with some guy she just met.
I have responsibilities—children to raise, bills to pay, and a job to work.
And you’re… you. You’re hot and rich and famous and…
free . Your world is nothing like mine, Hayes. ”
“What I’m hearing is that you think I’m hot.” My smirk grows. “Don’t worry, I think you’re hot, too.”
“You would latch onto that part of the point I was making.” She tries to smother a smile, but her dimples pop, giving her away. “Hayes, I’m serious.”
My smile fades as I reply, “Free isn't all it's cracked up to be, Annabelle." She has no idea how lonely it feels when there's no one in the world who belongs to you.
She tilts her head, watching me.
"Look, I understand what you’re saying, but I’m not the same person either.
I don’t have kids, no, but I have responsibilities and commitments.
Just because our worlds are different doesn’t mean they can’t complement one another.
” When she doesn’t respond, I lean forward with my elbows on my knees and turn my head to meet her stare, grateful that she’s finally holding my gaze. “You want that drink now? Red wine?”
“Red wine sounds great. Thanks, Hayes.”
I return a minute later with a glass of pinot noir and a beer. “Is it okay if I still call you Annabelle? I’ve been referring to you as Annabelle in my head for over a year, but if you prefer Anna, I can switch to calling you that.”
“I like that you call me Annabelle.” She falters for a second before quietly confessing, “It feels special since no one else does.”
Over the past thirteen months, I’ve spent a lot of time fantasizing about what would happen if I ever found Annabelle again. Usually, I imagined a reunion filled with steamy sex scenes and promises of a future together. But nothing could have prepared me for how our reunion unfolded.
I never imagined I’d find Annabelle again because she was on a date with Josh. Fucking Dumber of all people?
I also never imagined that she was a widow and a single mother.
Annabelle takes a sip of her wine before she speaks again. “I assume you work with Aiden at M&M Records. Did you know Kyle too?”
“Not well, but I met him several times through Aiden at industry events over the years.” Pausing a beat before adding, I say, “I know it sounds trite, but I’m sorry for your loss, Annabelle. I can’t imagine how difficult it was losing him.”
“Thank you, Hayes.” She sighs softly, playing with her hands in her lap. “Does it freak you out that I’m a widow?”
“It’s surprising,” I admit. “When I met you, I assumed you were getting out of a serious relationship, either an engagement or marriage… but I never considered you were a widow. ”
“Few women my age are.”
“You mentioned having children, too, right?”
“Yes, I do.” She shoots me a wry smile. “Does that freak you out?”
“No, Yankee, it doesn’t freak me out.”
She watches me, gauging my response, probably trying to detect any signs of deceit in my response, but I’m not lying. I’ve always wanted a family, and that desire only deepened after my mom passed away.
And it deepened further after I met Annabelle last year. That faraway, hazy dream snapped into focus the night I spent with her. My future wife wasn't a question mark anymore. She wasn't a faceless fantasy.
While she assesses me, I inspect Annabelle’s appearance more closely.
Her hair is shorter and lighter. Through her trousers and fitted sweater, I can see her curves.
A year ago, she had been close to being too skinny, which makes sense now.
She was grieving the sudden death of her husband.
But tonight, she looks like she’s gained weight, and it looks good on her.
She looks healthier. Happier. And she’s still stunning.
“Are you sleeping better now?”
She chuckles. “Yes, I am, Hayes.”
God, I love hearing her say my name.
“Tell me about your kids. How old are they?”
“I have two girls. My oldest, Grace, is seven going on twenty-seven, and she’s in second grade. My youngest, Claire, is five, and she’s in Pre-K this year.”
“How did they take Kyle’s death?”
Annabelle expels a long breath. “Hard. But they’re getting stronger. Their therapist says young children are more resilient, more adaptable than adults in dealing with grief and trauma.”
“Which leads me to my next question. How are you doing? ”
“Better. It was the worst, most painful period of my life, but I’ve made it to the other side. I still have bad days, but I’m having a lot more good days now.” Twisting her lips, she seems hesitant to continue. “You know, you actually helped me move forward.”
“I did?” My head rears back, pleased yet surprised by her comment.
“That night with you gave me hope that one day, when I was healed and stronger, I could start over with someone new.”
“I guess we were in the right place at the right time then, like we were again tonight.” Slipping her hand in mine, I trace circles over her palm with my thumb. I keep my eyes locked on our joined hands, nervous to ask my next question. “Why’d you leave that morning without saying goodbye?”
She sighs and tries to withdraw her hand from mine, but I hold on tighter, unwilling to let her retreat. I won’t let her off the hook.
“What you made me feel that night illuminated things for me, but what I felt also intimidated me, Hayes. You made me feel things I wasn’t ready to feel again.
I was a mess, barely holding it all together, and I knew I wasn’t in a place to date.
It scared me that one night with you had me contemplating something more.
” She twists her mouth to the side and shrugs.
“So, I took the easy way out and ran. It wasn’t until later, when I’d had time to reflect and decompress, that I regretted leaving the way I did. ”