Chapter 8
She’s all I can see the entire time I’m on the stage.
Like a beacon calling to me in the dark room.
Her blonde hair a halo cascading down her back in her signature half up, half down style.
Her coaching me through what to say on our way down here felt like old times when she would text me after games before talking to the media.
Those were my favorite moments. She may have been a new agent at the time, but she was always going places in the PR world.
I had all the faith in the world, and it made me proud to see how far she’d come in the last ten years.
Seeing her thriving in her element soothed part of the ache inside of me at being left in the dust.
I didn’t harbor any resentment. I meant what I said about letting her go to chase her dreams. I wouldn’t be the one to hold her back, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t wish things happened differently.
It was a stark reminder of everything I missed out on.
All the years of highs and lows, celebrations and hardships.
I wanted it all and I wanted them with Taylor.
I was tired of wasting our time. It was time for a change, which is why my eyes never leave hers as I step off the stage and walk towards where she stands at the back of the room.
Taylor’s a tall woman, and even taller with the heels she’s wearing with her wide leg dress pants, but she still has to look up at me when I reach her.
This close to her, I can’t help but take her in.
The smoky eyeshadow she’s wearing that highlights her brown eyes, the red lipstick that matches both the pants she’s wearing and the sole of her heels because she’s always been a fan of Louboutin.
When I still don’t speak, Taylor says, “All in all, the press conference was a huge win for the organization.”
“Have dinner with me to celebrate.” It’s not a question as much as it is a deliberate request.
Her eyes widen momentarily as she surveys our surroundings to see who is paying attention to us.
The answer is no one. Gabby ducked out as soon as the conference ended, and Chase walked out with Mike to head back to the locker room for tonight’s game.
Everyone else is preoccupied with jotting down their notes and being the first to report on what was said here today.
“There’s a game tonight,” Taylor says in an attempt to thwart my invitation, but I can already see the interest sparking behind her eyes. The way her body involuntarily leans toward mine.
Stepping closer so we’re toe to toe, I inhale her floral scent, using it to fuel my drive to get a dinner date out of her. “Skip it.”
“It’s Chase’s first game back and you want to skip it?” she asks with an amused smile on her face.
“My staff is more than capable of handling things around here. I don’t need to sit in the owner’s box and make sure they do their jobs.”
She plops a hand on her hip and quirks a brow at me. “And what if I wanted to go to the game?”
“Do you?” My lips twitch in an attempt to hide my smile at her sass.
If she does, I’ll just ask her some other time, even if spending another night without her might kill me.
“What would I tell the girls?” she asks half-heartedly, and I know I’ve already won.
I grin. “You could tell them you’re having dinner with your husband.” I rock back on my heels with a smug satisfaction
“Grant,” she hisses and looks around the room again.
“What?” I ask, innocently.
“Someone could hear you.”
“No one’s paying us any attention, Stella.” The nickname slips out, and she momentarily freezes before she responds.
“It’s been ages since anyone’s called me that.” She sounds almost wistful. A good sign for the prospect of dinner together.
“It’s been ages since I’ve been able to say it aloud.”
Reaching out, I tuck a stray hair behind her ear, pausing when she leans her cheek into my palm. The world disappears around us and all I can see before me is the twenty-two-year-old version of Taylor peering up at me as a million different memories flit through my mind.
She closes her eyes with a small smile on her face as if she’s remembering it too. When she opens them again, it’s like a spark to the heart. I’m consumed by the need to keep her. Forever and always.
“I need to change,” she says.
“You look great in what you’re wearing.” The truth is I don’t want to let her go.
I’m worried that if she goes home to change, she’ll talk herself out of dinner with me.
I can’t risk it. Not when we’re so close to a breakthrough.
I need this more than air. I won’t survive if she walks away again before I have the chance to prove to her how much I’ve missed her. How much I still love her.
I’ve never stopped. A love like ours is infinite. At times, it may have been a barely flickering flame, but it would never extinguish. My heart is hers. I will always be hers.
She sighs. “Fine. Let’s get out of here. I could use a drink after having to explain to Toddler Tom why his client needed to make a statement for the thousandth time this week.”
Her words catch me off guard, and I can’t stop the deep laugh that escapes me. She giggles too, and it’s the sweetest sound I’ve heard in a very long time.
“Let’s go. I’ll drive.” As much as I want to reach for her hand and lace our fingers together, I hold myself back. I might be sure of us, but I get the feeling she needs to get used to the idea again. That’s fine. I can take my time.
Tonight is the first step toward our future. Now that the press conference is over, I need to find a way to get her to stick around. We won’t be able to rebuild our relationship if she takes off for New York or Los Angeles again. Proximity is my friend.
She’s quiet as we leave the stadium, get into my BMW, and head to the hotel I call home.
“Oh, this is where I’m staying,” Taylor says, when I pull into the valet at the Baker Hotel.
I try to keep my voice even despite the surprise ricocheting inside me at this revelation. “Me, too.” We’ve been staying under the same roof, so close yet so far away. We get out of the car and walk inside as I reconcile the fact that she’s been in my hotel this whole time.
“I didn’t realize this was a Davenport hotel.” She looks around the lobby at the grand staircase and the glass ceiling as if with new eyes.
“It’s not. It’s a Baker.” I wink at her. Suddenly, I feel nervous about whether she likes what she sees.
She gasps in jest, placing a palm over her heart. “You’d dare stay in something other than a Davenport hotel?”
Tilting my head, I take in her bright smile and the teasing glint in her eye. It hits me then that she doesn’t know much about the empire I’ve built. It would be funny if it didn’t hurt so damn bad.
I reach out and tug on a strand of her hair, grinning when I say, “It’s mine, Tay baby.” The term of endearment lingers as we stare at each other.
The hotel isn’t just mine—it’s also named for her.
Everything I’ve built is named for her. Stella is the nickname I gave her because she’s as bright as a star.
Not just any star, but mine. The thing that guides me.
She always has, even though we didn’t know each other long before we got married, she’s always been my one.
My soulmate. The other piece of me. Baker—her last name. Not my family name.
“Yours?” she gapes at me.
I hold the door open for the elevator that will take us to the penthouse, and she steps in beside me.
“Baker is the luxury hotel brand under the Stella Holdings umbrella,” I explain. “We have properties all over the world. Each hotel brand has their own name, but they all roll under the larger corporation.” Catching the sad look on her face, I ask, “What’s that look for?”
“I’m just realizing how much I don’t know about this version of you.”
“It’s a good thing we’re going to dinner then, so you can catch up on all you missed.”
“I’ve stayed at a lot of Baker Hotels over the years because I always liked that it had my name. You named them for me, didn’t you?”
The look she gives me steals my breath—a mixture of hope and longing, that maybe we aren’t as far apart as it once felt.
“Yes,” I respond, inches from her face when the doors open abruptly, effectively ruining the moment.
“Grant, is this the penthouse?”
“It is.”
“I thought we were having dinner.” She quirks an eyebrow.
“We are. I have a private rooftop terrace and thought we could order from the restaurant and watch the sunset while we eat. If you’d rather, we can go back down to the restaurant.” I hitch a thumb over my shoulder, indicating back to the elevator.
“No, the terrace sounds great.”
Her genuine smile hits me in the chest. Seeing her in my home, eagerly taking in the space, should make me nervous but it feels right. Like this is always where we were meant to end up. Moving to the wall of windows, I open the doors leading to the terrace so she can make her way outside.
“How about that drink you mentioned?” I ask, removing my suit jacket and tossing it over the back of the couch.
The vest quickly follows. When I start rolling up the sleeves of my button down, her eyes latch onto my forearms and I smirk, knowing she likes the show.
Her eyes flash to mine, cheeks pink at being caught.
Without breaking eye contact, I loosen the tie at my neck.
I hate wearing a tie, but the press conference felt like an occasion that called for a tie
“What do you have?” She clears her throat and swallows as if in a trance as she watches my tie fall to the floor at my feet then her eyes are back on my hands as I unbutton my shirt.
“Whatever you want,” I say, my voice coming out huskier than I meant for it to, but being in her presence, being the reason she’s blushing, it just does something to me.
Whether we’re still talking about her drink choice or something else, I have no idea because her eyes on me have my dick twitching in my pants, the thought of her being the one to remove my tie and undo my buttons turns me on.
Reaching the third button of my shirt, her breath hitches, telling me she sees the gold chain around my neck.
The chain that holds my wedding band. “What do you want?” I ask again, wishing she’d say she wants me, but I know we’re not there yet.
Attraction was never our issue, but we’re not the same uninhibited fools we used to be.
“Wine is fine,” she whispers.
Knowing it’s not her first choice, I push back, “What do you really want?”
She clears her throat, finally dragging her eyes from the gold chain back to me. “A stiff drink.”
“Martini? Bourbon? Tequila?”
“Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“Me? Never.” I chuckle and cross to the wet bar in the corner of the dining room, needing to distance myself before I overstep.
“A martini would be good. Do you have blue cheese stuffed olives?”
“Do I look like an amateur to you?” I shoot over my shoulder.
She grins. “I’ll be outside,” she says, then she ducks out the door before I can say anything else and I get the sense she also needs a minute to cool off.
Taking a deep breath, I shake off the tension and desire coursing through me and set to making our drinks.
Pouring a bourbon for myself, I toss it back in one shot and relish in the burn as it goes down.
Then I pour the vodka, knowing she prefers it to gin, the olive juice so it’s extra dirty, and a splash of vermouth over ice and shake until the metal shaker is frosted.
Once both our drinks are finished, my dick has settled and the haze of lust has lifted, so I join her on the patio.
“Why did you move to Nashville anyway?” she asks, taking the drink from my hand while kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet underneath her on the couch. The sunlight bounces off the window behind her, giving her an angelic glow.
You, I almost answer, but having her in my space is already too real to share the whole truth on night one. If I have any chance of convincing my wife to be my wife again, baby steps are required.
Opting for levity, I say, “In case you didn’t notice, I own the team.”
“Still, I never thought you’d leave New York.”
I shrug. “Things change.”
She opens her mouth to respond, but the shrill ring of her work phone interrupts. “Sorry, I have to take this.” Answering the call, she hands me her drink, gets up and disappears inside.
With her inside, leaving me alone with my thoughts, her question throws me back to the conversation that started it all. The reason I agreed to leave New York and move to Nashville.