Chapter 1 #2
“I’m not upset at all,” I finally said. And then it hit me. “So if the shoot is canceled, that means...”
She nodded, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “Yeppers.”
“I get—” I squinted, doing the math in my head. Seven. Eight.
“Ten days off instead of just the weekend,” she answered for me.
I threw my hands up in the air and shimmy-shook my ass all over my chair. “Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!”
Ten whole days of no obligations and no schedule was exactly what I needed.
“You know what?” I stood up, energy surging back through my system. “I’m going to surprise Shawn. We’ll fly to Nashville tonight instead of tomorrow.”
The thought of my fiancé’s face when I showed up unannounced sent a little flutter through my chest. It had been three weeks since I’d seen him—he’d been in training camp, and I’d been on tour. We were always missing each other, like two ships passing in the night.
Though honestly, when we were together, it felt a bit like that anyway.
I shook off the weird thought and started peeling out of my costume. The sequined top hit the floor, followed by the skin-tight jeans that took five minutes of me and Sondra tugging to get them over my ass.
“Should I call ahead? Let his security know you’re coming?” Sondra asked. “That way there’s plenty of protection for you both.”
Shawn was the running back for the Nashville Nitros. It was already predicted they’d make it to the Super Bowl this year. With both of us being high-profile celebrities, that meant extra security was a must.
“I don’t know. Do you think it’s necessary? Nobody will be expecting us.” I caught her reflection in the mirror and saw the unease in her expression.
Okay. Something was definitely up. “What aren’t you telling me?” I asked, turning to face her fully.
She bit her lip again. “There’s been another note.”
A cold chill swept over me. “Where? Here?” I glanced around the room.
“Frank found it on your dressing table while you were on stage.”
Letters started showing up about six months ago. They were innocent enough at first, just gushing about my music and my voice.
But then they started including details that nobody could possibly know. Like what I ate for lunch at private restaurants. What I wore to a private event that wasn’t photographed. Where I went shopping on my days off.
“What did this one say?”
Sondra pulled out her phone and read from what I assumed was a photo.
“You were absolutely radiant tonight. That blue sequined top brings out your eyes perfectly, just like I knew it would. The way you went out of your way for a dying girl is beautiful—so compassionate, so caring. You have the biggest heart, Hattie. I can’t wait until I can tell you that in person. ”
Ice ran down my spine. “How did they know about Lucy if this was found while I was on stage?”
“That’s what Frank and the police are trying to figure out. They’re expanding the investigation.” She put her phone away and gave me a reassuring smile. “They’ll figure out who it is.”
I hoped so. I really, really hoped so.
“Can you call the pilot? I want to go to Nashville.”
As Sondra got to work getting our travel arrangements in order, I focused on getting dressed.
Black jeans, oversized tee, and my hot pink Nike slides.
Next, I twisted my hair up into a messy knot and scrubbed the stage makeup off my face.
In a matter of minutes, I went from Glam country music superstar to hobo.
Okay, maybe I didn’t look quite that bad, but my face was a little splotchy, and my hair felt crispy from all the hairspray.
“You ready to blow this popsicle stand?”
Sondra scanned the room one last time, looking for any bobs or bits she might have missed. Once she was sure she’d gotten everything, she aimed her big smile my way.
“Yep. Let’s hit it.”
Three hours later, I was stepping out of my Range Rover in the underground parking garage of Shawn’s downtown Nashville penthouse. My heart was beating a mile a minute. I was genuinely excited to see him.
When’s the last time I surprised someone I liked?
The thought came out of nowhere, and I frowned as I walked toward the elevator. I didn’t like Shawn; I loved him. We were engaged, for Christ’s sake. The ring on my finger—all four carats of it—was proof of that.
Right?
So why did the word “like” feel more accurate?
I shook my head and keyed in the code for the private elevator that led directly to the penthouse.
The ride up felt like it took forever, and I spent the time checking my reflection in the polished steel doors. Hair a hot mess, face still splotchy. Leaning in closer, I touched a red spot on my chin. Is that a zit?
Before I could pick at it until I drew blood, the elevator dinged softly, and the doors slid open directly into Shawn’s foyer.
“Shawn?” I called out softly, not wanting to wake him if he was already asleep. “Baby, it’s me!”
As I was moving down the hallway to his room, I heard it.
Moaning.
And it wasn’t Shawn. It belonged to a woman. A woman who shouldn’t be in my fiancé’s penthouse.
Please let him be watching porn, anything but—
Rounding the corner into the bedroom, I froze.
What the actual fuck?
Shawn was in our bed and some blonde with fake tits was riding him like her life depended on it, her head thrown back in pleasure while my fiancé gripped her hips and groaned her name.
Seeing him fucking someone else in our bed felt like a physical blow. I’d picked out that bed. I’d been the one to order the custom silk sheet from Paris, because he’d liked them when he slept on them after flying out to one of my concerts in London.
What the fuck? This is really happening. This is actually fucking happening.
I glanced around for something to throw at his stupid head, but then I realized something that rocked me to my core; I was pissed. I was furious, humiliated, betrayed—the scandal alone was going to be everywhere by morning. But I wasn’t sad or heartbroken, or any of the things I should be feeling.
What did that even mean?
Standing there like a statue while my fiancé fucked another woman ten feet away from me, I thought about why that was.
About why I wasn’t crying or feeling like my world was ending like it had once before.
I didn’t feel any of that. I actually felt this weird sense of...
relief? Like this weight I hadn’t even realized I was packing around just got lifted off my shoulders.
I never loved him.
The realization struck me like a lightning bolt. Not the way I love Weston–
Nope.
I cut that thought off immediately. That wound never fully healed and still had the power to sting.
But the truth was still the truth. I never loved Shawn. Not really. I loved the idea of him, the safety of him, the way being with him made sense on paper. Football star and country music sweetheart—we were a match made in tabloid heaven.
But love? Real, soul-deep, can’t-live-without-you love?
No. Never.
Taking a deep breath, I was surprisingly calm as I walked closer to the bed.
I didn’t give a damn that they were still getting it on.
It’s not like either of them had noticed me in the room anyway.
They were too caught up in their little performance.
(And spoiler alert, she was totally faking with all those noises.)
Ick.
I reached up with steady hands and slid my engagement ring off my finger. I was a little sad about losing it. Four flawless carats and princess cut; she was a beauty.
Dropping it onto the floor, it clinked against the hardwood, and both Shawn and his bimbo finally realized they weren’t alone.
Shawn’s eyes flew open and met mine over the blonde’s shoulder. It was almost comical to watch his face go from white to red, then white again. “Hattie!”
I shook my head. “I hope she was worth it.” With that, I turned on my heel and headed right back the way I came.
The elevator doors closed behind me with a soft whoosh, and I leaned back against the wall, finally allowing myself to breathe.
Well, shit. Now what?