Chapter 12
My business in Los Angeles wrapped up shortly after Grant texted me last week about firing Mark, and instead of flying back to Nashville, I had the pilot fly me to New York because I’m avoiding Grant.
After our dinner together, my walls were lowering and I freaked out.
It didn’t help that he not only arranged for his personal pilot to fly me to LA but also set me up in a suite at the Hollywood Baker Hotel and arranged a car service for all my meetings.
Everything was comped too, so I didn’t pay for anything.
He was infuriatingly considerate, and I couldn’t decide how I felt about that, so I did what any self-respecting woman would do in that situation and I avoided him like the plague.
If I wasn’t in Nashville, I wouldn’t have to see him.
My time was running out, though, because horse patrol night at the Troubadours game was next week, which means I would be flying back soon.
And that meant seeing him at the office, and also potentially at the hotel since he owned and lived at my favorite hotel in the city.
I could stay with one of the girls, but I’d gotten comfortable in my own space and I felt at home at the Baker.
Hitting send on the email I was drafting, I grab my phone to check in with Gabby. We had a status meeting earlier for Chase’s image rehab and I had to jump into something else so I haven’t had the chance to touch base with her yet.
She’s already texted and what she sent has me doing a happy dance in my chair.
GABBY
Dickardo’s gone.
IVORY
ME
Ding dong, the dick of the west is dead.
IVORY
So, what does this mean?
GABBY
Mark was let go too.
ME
You’re too polite. He was canned.
IVORY
It’s about damn time!
ME
Preach, sister!
GABBY
Grant asked me to consider taking the job.
IVORY
That’s amazing, Gabby! I’m so proud of you!
ME
Damn right, he did.
GABBY
Did you have anything to do with this?
ME
Told you I was handling it.
But no, I wasn’t responsible for him asking you to take over. That was all you.
GABBY
He said you called me a boss ass bitch
ME
Because you ARE!
IVORY
100%
How should we celebrate?
GABBY
I haven’t decided if I’m taking the job permanently.
ME
That’s stupid. Of course you are.
IVORY
We still have things to celebrate. The dicks are dead!
GABBY
Wine night on the porch?
IVORY
I’ll bring the wine.
ME
See you then!
I guess I’m heading back to Nashville today to celebrate my girl. When we landed in LA, the pilot gave me his personal cell phone number, so now I pull it up and request a flight from Teterboro this afternoon, then I ask Allie to line up a room at the hotel while I pack.
My eyes catch on the gold-tipped roses in a vase on the counter of my New York condo.
Grant got me the first one for Christmas the year we met.
After that, they arrived every anniversary and I didn’t have the heart to send them back.
Each one was a different color specific to the year it was released.
I couldn’t admit it to him, but I love them so much, each one providing a reminder that all of it was real.
That neither of us forgot how much we once loved each other.
Once? The inner voice taunts me.
Shaking that voice off, I hurry around the room, packing my things so I can make it to Gabby’s for wine night. I’d never miss a night with my girls, even if it means being close to the man who I’m not ready to face yet but can’t seem to stop thinking about.
“Welcome back, Ms. Baker,” the concierge greets me when I step up to the reception desk in the lobby of the Nashville Baker Hotel.
“Thank you.” Already, I feel more at home than I did in my own apartment in New York. There’s something about this place that sticks with me.
“Here are your keys. Do you need help with your bags?”
I may need to find a permanent residence in Nashville, but it’s so hard to leave the hospitality and convenience of the hotel.
“I’ve got it,” I tell him. Since I left my larger bags here, I only have Grant’s carry-on suitcase and my work bag.
He offers me a wide smile. “Let me know if you need anything. Also, I was told to give you this in case you wanted to go anywhere.” He slides a paper ticket across the marble top.
“What’s this?” I ask, examining the piece of paper. “Valet voucher” is printed across the front and my name is written on the bottom in Grant’s concise script.
“Mr. Davenport requested it. I was told to tell you to talk to him if you had any questions.”
Of course, he said that. I roll my eyes. He’s had me pegged from the beginning, so he knows I’m avoiding him, and this is a piece of bait he’s hoping will break the ice. It’s also frustratingly considerate.
“Have a good day.” I take the ticket and my room key, navigating to the elevator. My steps falter when I see the room number printed on the back is the same as the one I had before.
What are the chances?
Once in the room, I know this wasn’t by chance at all.
Grant left everything as it was in my room.
When he said I could leave the rest of my stuff here, I assumed he would have someone pack it up for me and take it up to the penthouse, but all my clothes still hang in the closet and everything else is in its place.
I can tell he had room service clean the room while I’ve been away and even restocked the mini fridge and kitchenette.
The little ways he shows he cares mean the most. It makes me want to stop icing him out.
ME
Thank you for keeping the room for me.
Don’t Text The Devil
Welcome home.
Home. Can a hotel room be home? Or is he saying welcome home because it’s where he is? I don’t have time to dissect all the hidden meanings of his words, but I do have time to change his name in my phone.
Clicking on his contact card, I delete the words I wrote years ago.
Truth is, he’s never been the devil. Even when he could’ve been, he was the furthest thing from it.
It was easier to brand him as the devil—a symbol of the greatest temptation and forbidden fruit—than to appreciate all the ways he put me first. During his darkest hour, he chose me and what I needed.
He let me leave. He loved me in spite of it. He still showing me his love for me.
I quickly change into my comfy clothes to wear to Gabby’s house and repack an overnight bag just in case we have too much to drink and I need to spend the night.
I leave the hotel room with the valet ticket in hand, curious what car he left for me to drive and how I’m going to explain it to the girls when I pull in.
Handing the ticket over to the valet, I watch him cross the circular drive to the VIP parking area and open the door of a brand new black Mercedes Benz. I gape at it as the valet drives it to where I’m standing.
Did Grant buy a new car just for me to drive?
ME
Whose car is this?
G
Yours.
ME
Grant!
G
You need a car in this city.
ME
It’s too much.
G
Don’t worry about it.
But I do worry about it. What does this all mean? All of it’s too much.
“Ms.?” The valet stands holding the driver door open for me patiently. Dropping my phone in my bag, I move to the other side and sink into the buttery leather seat.
“Thank you,” I say as he closes the door. The chrome accents gleam in the sun and the new car smell clings to the interior. It’s exactly the kind of car I would’ve bought myself.
That kind of deep understanding from Grant makes my heart skip a beat and I smile as I reach for the seatbelt.
Shifting into gear, I squeal with excitement at the hum of the engine when I compress the accelerator.
Nashville traffic sucks. After almost an hour of being stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic, I heave out a sigh of relief when I finally pull into Gabby’s driveway.
I forgot what it was like to drive in a city at rush hour.
It’s been so long since I’ve done it myself instead of being chauffeured around.
“What’s up, bitches?” I call out, opening Gabby’s front door.
When she texted earlier about Mark and Ricardo being gone, all I could think was “fucking finally.” It took Grant forever and a damn day to make it official.
I was losing my mind waiting on him to finish the termination and make the announcement to Gabby.
Every time she had a bad day or complained about Mark not pulling his weight, it almost slipped out.
“Ding dong, the dicks are dead!” Ivory sings and lifts two bottles of wine, dancing her way towards the front door from the kitchen.
“Guys, I’m honestly still in shock. I never thought this day would come.
” Gabby says, holding a charcuterie board and ushering us back outside to the porch.
Her covered porch is my favorite spot. The ceiling fans she installed help with air flow for the summer heat and it’s decorated with the coziest outdoor furniture.
We all pile onto the couch facing the greenway across the street.
“Believe it, sister,” I say, dropping down onto the couch beside Ivory. “This was a long time coming if you ask me, and no one is more deserving.”
“Now that calls for a toast.” Ivory pours three glasses of prosecco and passes them out before lifting hers into the air. “To Gabby, the best lawyer in the game and our bestest friend!”
“Boss babe for real!” I raise my glass to the middle.
“It does feel good to be in charge.” Gabby wrinkles her nose with a tiny grin.
“Shedding the dead weight of annoying men always feels good.” Ivory laughs.
Growing up in Hollywood, she dealt with it a lot.
The worst was the last studio executive she was contracted with for the pilot.
I’ll never forget the replay from when she got to terminate that contract.
He thought he had the upper hand, but Ivory called his bluff and walked away free and clear.
“Men are the worst,” I agree, thinking back to the men who worked at the PR firm in New York. When I got the promotion in LA, the rumor mill swirled that I slept my way to the top despite the fact that I was in a serious relationship, and Grant wasn’t even a client.
Gabby settles deeper into her seat. “I don’t want to talk about them. I’m finally with my girls again and I want to bask in this blissful reality while we drink too much wine and eat our weight in cheese and crackers.”
“The best way to spend the night if you ask me, but if I have too much wine, I’m going to have to crash in your guest room.” I point my wine glass in her direction.
“You know you’re always welcome here,” Gabby says.
“Where’d you get the wheels? That’s a fancy car,” Ivory muses.
“It’s a rental.” I shove a piece of cheese in my mouth.
They don’t look convinced, but the conversation shifts to talk of Miller and Preston pranking Chase with an equestrian helmet in case he decides to steal any more horses. For the night, I forget about the unknown with Grant and enjoy a night with my two favorite women in our happy place.