Chapter 33
As I stepped out of the air-conditioned rental car, the South Carolina humidity wrapped around me like a suffocating blanket. I’d never experienced a southern summer. All I had for comparison was TV shows and who knew how realistic they had been.
Anderson stopped next to me as I surveyed the quaint, picture-postcard Main Street of Jasmine Bay, searching for Mayfield’s Bakery.
“I don’t know if this is a good idea, Lewis.”
He’d said the same thing before we got on the plane in Toronto. Then again when the car rental employees stared at me, starstruck, while we picked up the car in Charleston.
“It’ll be fine.” I hoped.
He grunted. “At least you had enough sense to bring me.”
“Like I’d get on a plane without you. I know my limits.”
“If you actually knew your limits, you and your band of delinquents wouldn’t have evaded your entire security team for two days and fucked off to the woods in Toronto.”
I smirked. “Chill, man. It all worked out.”
He glowered at me, but I ignored him. Instead, I took a deep breath, and squaring my shoulders, I started down Main Street, scanning the shops and cafes for the ones she’d mentioned. My hands were clammy, my stomach a roiling mess of nerves, but I couldn’t back down now.
I needed two things: her address, and the entire town gossiping about our marriage before I got to her house.
Anderson fell into step beside me, his gaze scanning every face we passed. “The first words out of my mouth when this all goes to hell and I’m done rescuing you are going to be I told you so, you know that, right?”
“Yes, but it’s not going to happen.”
Had never happened in fact. For all my rebellious moments, I’d never gotten into a situation I couldn’t escape. It helped that I’d always been careful with the locations, only skipping out on him when it was somewhere I knew well with owners I trusted impeccably. Like Rhymes. I’d spent a good five years frequenting that bar and I’d never drawn more than a friendly nod.
“Can you at least put a cap and glasses on?” he asked when someone pulled out their phone.
“Nope.”
Thankfully, I spotted the bakery before he could overreact some more. I crossed the street, heading towards the cheerful but faded green awning.
I needed to show her that she wasn’t alone, that I would always put her first. I’d failed until now and I couldn’t live with her believing I would again.
All that had held me back was the band and my commitment to the tour. Then we’d all skipped town after Toronto, ditched our security detail and spent a night in the woods, drinking, laughing and enjoying two nights surrounded by nature. We’d shared some shit, opened up to each other in a way we hadn’t in a long time.
By the time we pulled up in Montreal and rejoined the tour, they had it all figured out. Lily handed me plane tickets and shoved me into a waiting taxi.
The bell above the door jingled merrily as I stepped inside the bakery, announcing my arrival to the gaggle of locals gathered around mismatched tables, sipping sweet tea and trading juicy gossip.
The moment I crossed the threshold, a hush fell over the room, like someone had hit the mute button on a TV. Anderson tensed. The weight of their curious stares settled on me as they sized me up. The whispers started, my name bouncing around the room like a ping pong ball at a church social.
“Is that…?”
“It can’t be.”
I shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling like a sore thumb in my designer jeans. I’d faced crowds of thousands, their screams shaking stadiums, but somehow, the scrutiny of these people made me pause.
Anderson sniggered at my frozen state. “Still think this is a good idea?”
“Well, I’ll be.” A gruff voice cut above the whispers. A robust, flour-dusted woman behind the counter beckoned me over with a wave of her rolling pin.”Don’t just stand there catching flies! What can I do you for, sugar?”
The woman behind the counter eyed me with a mix of curiosity and calculation. Her hair was streaked with grey, wisps escaping the messy bun atop her head, and her apron was dusted with flour. But the look in her eyes was sharp, assessing.
I approached the counter, grateful for the reprieve from the stares boring holes in my back. “I’m looking for Hattie.”
The woman let out a hearty laugh, warm and rich as blackstrap molasses. “Well, you found her.” She looked me over, her keen eyes missing nothing, like she could read my entire life story in the creases of my vintage band tee. “Now, what brings a famous rock star like you to my humble little slice of heaven?”
Something about her warmth and kindness sucked all of the nervous energy out of me.
I leaned in. “I’m here for my wife. I want to surprise her, sweep her off her feet, but I don’t know where she lives. I was hoping you might be able to point me in the right direction.”
A hush fell over the bakery. Somewhere, a teacup clattered against its saucer.
Hattie’s eyebrows shot up so high, they nearly disappeared into her hairline. “Your wife, you say? And who might the lucky lady be?”
“Olivia Monroe.”
The moment the words left my mouth, the dam broke. The bakery erupted into a frenzy of chatter, the volume rising. Despite my nerves, a smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as the whispers fixated on that particular detail.
“Livvy Monroe got hitched and didn’t breathe a word?”
“And to a genuine celebrity, bless her heart!”
“I wonder if her mama knows.”
Two older women in the corner, their heads bent together like conspiring hens, gathered up their handbags and hustled out the door, no doubt off to spread the news. Just like I wanted.
Hattie let out a low whistle. “Well, paint me purple and call me a plum. Our little Livvy, married to a bona fide rock star.” She fixed me with a look that managed to be both warm and warning. “You sure you’re ready for the whirlwind that comes with a secret like that in a town like this?”
I met her gaze head-on, my jaw set with determination. “I’m ready for anything as long as it means I get to be with Liv.”
Before Hattie could respond, the bell jingled again. A tall, dark-haired guy walked in, his grin wide as he returned greetings from the still shellshocked patrons.
His gaze fell on me and his eyes widened for a second before a charming smile slid into place. “I can hardly believe it. Lewis Davies in Jasmine Bay.” He strode up to the counter, offering his hand. “Chris Harris. I’ve caught your band in concert a time or two. What brings you to our charming little corner of the world?”
Hattie chuckled. “Oh, this is going to be fun.” She crossed her arms and grinned at me. “Well, go on then, don’t dither. Tell him why you’re here.”
Puzzled by her amusement, I shook his hand. “I’m looking for my wife, actually. Olivia Monroe.”
His grin faltered, slipping for a heartbeat before he hitched it back into place. “Liv? You two tied the knot?” He let out a low whistle. “Did not see that coming. I was hoping…” He grimaced. “I mean, with both of us back in town, I thought maybe she and I could take a walk down memory lane. We were high school sweethearts, you know? But if she’s?—”
“Married.” I felt a flare of possessiveness lick up my spine. “Sorry, man. She’s off the market. Permanently.”
Chris held up his hands in surrender, his grin turning a touch rueful. “Message received, loud and clear.” He clapped me on the shoulder, his grip bordering on painful. “You treat her right, you hear? She’s one of a kind.”
“I’m aware,” I agreed with a small smile. “Which is why I’m not letting her go without one hell of a fight.”
Especially now that I had somewhat of a handle on my fears. I couldn’t have done it without nearly two weeks of daily sessions with Jared’s therapist. I still had a long way to go, but at least now I could recognise the source of my reactions and think through them before acting impulsively. It wasn’t foolproof, but baby steps.
The words hung between us, heavy with implication. Christopher inclined his head, expression inscrutable.
“I can see that.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “If you’ll excuse me, I should be going. My morning just got… unexpectedly busy.”
I watched him go, feeling a strange mix of triumph and guilt. Hattie clapped her hands together, her expression filled with glee. “Well, then. I’m guessing you’re here for Liv’s favourite baklava as much as an address.” She bustled around the counter, packing up a generous helping of Liv’s favourite dessert.
“You’d be right.”
“Of course I’m right, daft boy.” She shook her head, clucking her tongue at me. “Now, I can’t rightly go giving out her address willy-nilly. Wouldn’t be proper. But I can send you in the right direction, get you pointed straight as an arrow.”
She leaned across the counter, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You’ll want to mosey on over to Jazzy Blooms. Daisy Hawthorne, the gal who runs the flower shop, she’s got a soft spot for grand gestures and love stories. Might be she can hook you up with a clue.”
I accepted the box of baklava. “Thanks, Hattie. For the baklava and the wisdom.”
“You know you’re being led on a wild goose chase, right?” Anderson asked once the bakery door closed behind us.
“Yup.”
His scowl deepened as he surveyed the growing crowd of onlookers. “Let’s keep this moving. The longer we linger, the more attention we draw.”
* * *
The walk from Mayfield’s Bakery to Jazzy Blooms Florist was a short one, just a few storefronts down. Already I could see a rainbow of colourful blooms spilling out onto the sidewalk.
The moment we stepped into the flower shop, the fragrant perfume of all the flowers crammed into the small space assaulted me. Blooms of every hue spilled from buckets and vases, turning the small space into a lush, vibrant garden. I half expected a hummingbird to come buzzing by my ear, drunk on nectar.
Behind the counter, a willowy blonde with wildly curling hair and a flowing, floral-print dress looked up from an arrangement of sunflowers, a smile playing at the corners of her rose-petal lips.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the man of the hour, the talk of the town.” She glided around the counter, her dress swishing around her ankles like a summer breeze. “Lewis Davies, I presume?”
“I am.” I smiled. “News travels fast around here.”
She threw her head back and laughed, the sound as bright and tinkling as wind chimes. “Oh, honey. You’ve been the hottest topic on the gossip grapevine since Flossie Pendergast’s prized peach pie went missing at last year’s church social. I’m Daisy, by the by. What can I do for you?”
“I’m looking to woo my wife, make a grand romantic gesture. I was hoping you might be able to help me pick out the perfect bouquet, something that says, ‘I’m a damned fool, but I’m your fool, now and forever’.”
Daisy’s smile turned sly, a mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes. “I reckon we can cobble together something that’ll make her weak in the knees.” She set to work, flitting among the blossoms, plucking stems with an expert eye. “I’m glad you’re here. Our Liv, she’s been through the wringer lately, what with her mama getting sick and all. That girl could use a double dose of happiness right about now.”
I leaned against the counter, watching as she artfully arranged a medley of sunflowers, pink roses, and sprigs of lavender. “That’s the goal.”
Daisy tied off the bouquet with a flourish. “Well, sugar, you’re sure as shooting on the right track.” She pressed the bouquet into my hands, the silky petals whispering against my skin. “Now, if I were a betting woman and I never bet against love I’d say your next stop ought to be Mama Jo’s Diner. Liv’s been known to seek solace in a slice of Jo’s famous pecan pie, the kind that’ll make your eyes roll back in your head.”
“Then I guess that’s my next stop. Thanks. For the flowers and the guidance.”
As I turned to leave, bouquet in hand, I nearly collided with a blonde in a sundress, her smile as bright and artificial as a plastic daisy.
“Oops. I’m so sorry.” Her voice dripped with a saccharine sweetness, cloying as spun sugar. She eyed me with a critical eye. “Wait, don’t I know you? Yes, I do. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone famous in Jasmine Bay.”
“Well that’s about to change.” I sidestepped her, keeping a polite bit of distance between us. “I’m just picking up some flowers for my wife.”
Her perfectly arched brows shot up, disappearing into her hairline. “Wife? From Jasmine?”
I nodded. “Liv Monroe.”
Her laugh tinkled like breaking glass. “My, my. And here I thought she’d end up an old maid, pining after Christopher Harris ’til the day she died.”
A muscle in my jaw ticked, irritation simmering in my gut. “Well, lucky for me, Liv’s got better taste than that. If you’ll excuse me…”
I brushed past her, the cloying cloud of her perfume clinging to me like a bad memory.
Anderson laughed as he followed me. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you shoot someone down before they can break out the flirting. I’m impressed.”
I rolled my eyes. “Get used to it. I’m all in.”
“You said, but I don’t think I believed it until now.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Good for you, man. Does this mean you’re going to be pulling less disappearing acts?” He side-eyed me, smirking.
“Maybe. We’ll see.”
* * *
Anderson and I slid into a vinyl booth at the local diner. He reached for the laminated menu while I rested the box of baklava and the bouquet on the tabletop. He’d barely cracked the menu open when a woman in a pink gingham uniform descended upon us, a fresh pot of coffee in hand.
“You must be Liv’s Lewis.” She stopped in front of us, placed two mugs on the table and started pouring. “The name’s Jo, but you can call me Mama. Everyone does.”
Before I could utter a word, she bustled off, only to return a heartbeat later with two slabs of pecan pie the size of my head.
“Pie’s on the house, sugar. You could use it after the morning you’ve had. Move over, handsome.” She waved her hand at Anderson but didn’t bother waiting for him to respond before she slid into the booth.
“That obvious, huh?” I took a gulp of coffee.
All around us, phones hovered in the air and hushed voices filled the small diner. By now they probably had my movements marked on a map.
Mama Jo chuckled, the sound warm and knowing. “Honey, you’re wearing your heart on your sleeve. And in a town like Jasmine Bay, that’s like waving a steak in front of a pack of starving dogs. Everybody’s just dying to take a bite out of your business.”
I smiled, enjoying this quirky little town more than I probably should. “I just want to find Liv, make things right. Show her that I’m in this for keeps, gossip be damned.”
Mama Jo reached across the table, patting my hand with a touch as comforting as a worn quilt. “I’ve known that girl since she was knee-high to a June bug. She’s got a heart as big as the Lowcountry sky, but preparing to lose her mama, that kind of grief, it can make a body want to curl up small and shut out the world.”
I leaned forward, the worn vinyl creaking beneath me. “I want to be her world. I want to hold her through the hard times and celebrate the good ones. I just need her to know I’m serious first, and then I need to find her, tell her face-to-face.”
A slow grin spread across Mama Jo’s face. “Why, you sly dog, you’re playing us all.”
I smirked. “Just a little.”
“Well, if there’s one thing this town excels at, it’s spreading gossip. You don’t need to worry about keeping secrets here. There’s nothing these people can’t sniff out.” Mama Jo studied me for a long moment, her cornflower blue eyes seeing clear to my soul. “You really do love her, don’t you?”
I nodded. “More than music.”
She smiled, a slow, sweet thing that crinkled the corners of her eyes. “Well, then. I suppose I ought to put you out of your misery.” She reached into her apron pocket, pulling out a slip of paper and sliding it across the table. “The library. Our Liv’s been spending an awful lot of time there lately, reading to her mama, keeping her company.”
I accepted the slip of paper and turned it over to find a map. She winked when I stared at it with shock.
“My friends might enjoy sending you all over town without the foggiest idea where you’re going, but I’m a little kinder than that.” She slid out of the booth and stood. “Besides, I’d say they’ve all gotten their fill of you now. Your work’s done, just find your girl.”
“Thank you, I will. And thanks. For the pie, the coffee, and the tip.”
She dismissed my thanks with a flick of her wrist. “Just promise me one thing, sugar. When you find that girl, you hold on tight and never let go. Love like yours is rarer than a blue moon.”
“I intend to. I’m not letting her slip away again.”
With a final nod of thanks, I slid out of the booth, Anderson trailing behind me. I consulted my mental map of the town, trying to remember if I’d seen a library on our drive in.
“The library’s just a couple blocks down,” Anderson said, reading my mind in that uncanny way of his. “But are you sure you want to keep playing this game? Why not just ask for her address and be done with it?”
I shook my head, a wry smile tugging at my lips. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, I want to give the gossip mill time to work its magic. By the time I reach Liv, I want there to be no doubt in her mind that I’m serious about us.”
Anderson snorted, but fell into step beside me as we made our way down the sun-baked street. The heat and humidity were oppressive, but I barely noticed. My mind was focused on Liv, on the moment I’d finally see her again, hold her in my arms and never let go.
Lost in my thoughts, I almost didn’t notice the figure stepping out of the mechanic’s shop up ahead. “Does my sister know you’re in town?”
I turned to see a young man in grease-stained coveralls leaning against the shop’s doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. He had Liv’s same brown hair and a face that was all sharp angles and suspicion.
“Not yet, but I’m trying to remedy that.”
Of all the people I wanted to run into before I found Liv, I’m not sure her brother would have made the list. The way she’d always described him was protective. Despite being younger, he’d always tried to look out for her.
“Dustin,” I said, injecting as much calm into my voice as I could muster. “It’s good to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from Liv.”
His eyes narrowed, his gaze raking over me like he was trying to peel back my skin and see the truth beneath. “Funny, I haven’t heard a damn thing about you. Imagine my surprise when I’m elbow deep in an engine and I overhear Myrtle Hawkins yammering on about how Liv went and got herself hitched to some rock star.”
I winced, guilt spiking through me. “I know it’s a lot to take in. Liv and I, it all happened so fast.”
Dustin took a step closer, his jaw clenched tight. “And that’s why you thought it was okay to let my baby sister come back here alone?”
The accusation hit like a punch to the gut. I swallowed hard, meeting his gaze head-on. “You’re right. I should have been here. I should have dropped everything and been by her side. But I’m here now. I’m here to make things right.”
Dustin studied me for a long moment, the seconds ticking by painfully slow. Finally, he sighed, some of the tension leaching out of his frame. “You love her? Like, really love her?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “She’s everything to me, Dustin. I just want a chance to prove it to her.”
He ran a hand through his hair, leaving streaks of grease in the blond strands. “Alright, rock star. I’ll give you a chance. But I swear, if you hurt her…”
“I won’t,” I said fiercely. “I’d rather smash up my favourite bass than cause her more pain.”
Dustin’s lips twitched, like he was fighting back a smile. “Good. Because if you do, I’ve got a wrench with your name on it.”
I huffed out a laugh, some of the tension easing out of me. “Duly noted.”
He jerked his chin towards the end of the street. “She’s at the doctor’s office. She should be done soon.”
“Thank you. Truly.” I grinned, clapping him on the shoulder as I passed. “I’ll catch you later.”
“That you will,” he muttered as we walked away.
“Well that could have been worse.”
“Yeah, it could have.” Anderson shook his head. “Liv definitely wouldn’t have forgiven you if I’d had to put her brother in the hospital. Jesus.” He dragged a hand across his face. “Babysitting you just gets harder and harder.”
“Just keeping it interesting for you.”
“Well, make it less fucking interesting, will you?”
“I’ll get right on that.”
Chuckling, I quickened my pace, the bouquet clenched tightly in my hand and the bakery bag swinging on my arm. I was close, so damn close. And this time, I wasn’t letting go. Not for anything.