Ian held up his hand to interrupt her. “No. It’s okay. You’re allowed to feel however you want to feel. But know that we’re adults now. We’re not kids anymore. And adults have responsibilities. I have responsibilities. I would’ve loved to have been here with you tonight, but it just didn’t happen. I had to do what I could to protect my employees, my artists and their families. Instead of standing here looking at some amazing pictures, I was being threatened by a woman who wants to take away everything I’ve worked years to build. I’m sorry if you don’t agree with my priorities, but I had to make a decision and that’s what I chose.”
For a moment, Bree wanted to stop the fight and find out what happened with Missy. This had obviously been more than her usual diva hissy fit. But she didn’t get the chance.
Ian gestured toward his throat. “I’ve had it up to here with criticism today. We’re obviously fighting an uphill battle. I don’t have the time or the energy to waste on this...because I’m so busy,” he said, bitterly mocking her criticisms. “You can’t accept me the way I am, so I guess you’re right about us going our separate ways tonight. There’s no point in this relationship going any further.”
Bree felt a sharp pain in her chest, as though he’d finally driven the dagger into her heart. It knocked the wind out of her, took away whatever fight she had left. Despite what she said, she didn’t want to lose him, even if it was for the best. She was broken. “Fine,” she said quietly, her lips nearly trembling with the tears she was struggling to hold back.
Ian nodded, his expression solemn, his green eyes moving over her face without really seeing anything. “Congratulations on your showing tonight. I’m sure it was well received. Good luck with your future endeavors.”
At that, Ian turned and walked out.
Bree watched him go, then slumped back down onto the bench. This night was good and truly ruined.
Eleven
“Are you just going to sit around the house all day?”
Ian looked up from his long-standing perch on the couch to see his housekeeper, Winnie, glaring at him through the doorway. She had a vacuum at her side and a look of disgust on her face. That wasn’t good. He was obviously cramping her style.
“Maybe,” he said, being honest. He didn’t have plans to get off this couch anytime soon. He was just going to sit here until he figured out what do to. So far, no luck. Perhaps he should have taken off more than two days from work. “Why?”
The older woman walked into the room and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, I have things to do and for once you’re actually underfoot. You don’t pay me to just sit around and watch you mope.”
Ian’s brow went up at Winnie’s sharp tone. “I’m not stopping you from working. Just vacuum around me. Or clean the other four-thousand square feet I’m not occupying. And I’m not moping,” he added.
“Sure you’re not. You’re home in your pajamas instead of at work in a suit. You’re strumming your guitar and playing moody songs instead of guiding the careers of your artists. Not to mention that I found fifteen candy bar wrappers in the trash can this morning. Tell me you’re not moping.”
Ian looked at Winnie and frowned. Had he really eaten that many? So maybe he was moping. So what? “I’ve had a rough couple of weeks. Am I not allowed to take a little time to deal with all of it?”
Winnie came over to the couch and sat beside him. “Of course you are, Ian. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through with Missy and then, so soon after, with Bree. I’m just worried because I’ve never seen you like this. Not in the five years I’ve worked for you. Not even after you found out Missy was pregnant—and don’t bother trying to tell me you were happy about that because I know you weren’t.
“You’ve been as precise as Swiss clockwork for the past five years and it wasn’t until now that you’ve gotten me worried.” Winnie gestured toward the guitar. “I didn’t even know you played the guitar, Ian. I’ve been cleaning this place all these years and have never run across one. Or sheet music. Or a picture or anything that would make me think you even played an instrument. Where did this one come from?”
“From the mountain house. I brought it home with me. This is the guitar I bought myself when I was thirteen.”
“Why haven’t you ever played music around here before?”
“I gave it up when I dropped out of school and started working for the record company.”
“Why?”
Ian sighed. He’d just been through all this with Bree. He didn’t really want to rehash it, especially because now he realized it had been the wrong choice and justifying his actions was more difficult. “Because I wasn’t any good.”
“That’s funny,” Winnie noted. “You’ve sounded pretty good to me.”
“Thanks, Winnie.” Ian wasn’t fishing for a compliment, but he appreciated it, anyway. It made him feel good to have someone other than Bree tell him that, even though Winnie’s praise felt more like that of a mother.
“So what’s changed that you’re playing again all of a sudden? Wait,” she said, “let me guess. It’s about Bree.”
He nodded. “She encouraged me to start up again. I used to play when we were dating in college.”
“Well, she was right,” Winnie said. “You’re good. You should play more often.”
Ian sighed. “I just don’t have the time, Winnie. You know I’m always working. I’m either at the studio or working here in my office.”
“What about when you were snowed in all that time? Did the world unravel?”
“No,” he admitted.
“Did your well-trained employees handle everything while you were away?”
“Yes.” Keith had gone above and beyond, as had several others at the studio. He’d already put in some paperwork with payroll to give them bonuses. They deserved it.
“So why do you have to do everything?”
That made Ian frown. It was his company. Why wouldn’t he? “What do you mean?”
“You have worked yourself to the bone for years building this label. You’ve achieved success. Things are going well. You don’t have to work as hard anymore. You’ve just admitted that you have competent staff. Why not take a step back? Let them take on greater responsibility?”
“I’m not just going to sit back—”
“I’m not suggesting you stop going in to the office,” Winnie interrupted. “I’m suggesting that you don’t have to be responsible for everything. You always put work first because you think that’s the only way to be successful. But you’re allowed to have a life outside of the office. If that life includes music or a family, great. And even if you just spend all your free time in the bathtub playing with rubber duckies, it’s up to you. But don’t waste any more time telling yourself you can’t do it.”
She was right. He paid her to help run his life, to almost fill the role of a wife, and she did it well. She was an incredible cook, she was well organized and she was an excellent sounding board. He didn’t know how many times he’d solved a problem by talking it over with Winnie while she cooked or ironed clothes. He needed to give Winnie a raise, too. He’d get his accountant on that immediately.
Winnie patted him on knee. “I’ve seen you work miracles with your business over the years, Ian. You can do anything you want. Why can’t you do this?”
At that, Winnie leaned in to give him a peck on the cheek, then stood. “Okay, enough with the pep talk. This very special episode of Blossom is over. Now, get out of the living room so I can clean.”
“Thanks, Winnie,” he said with a chuckle. Ian got off the couch and grabbed the neck of his guitar. He carried it with him into his office. Once inside, he stopped, not quite sure why he’d come in here. He didn’t want to open his laptop and get sucked into work. He’d taken today off deliberately. So, then what?
He walked
over to his leather executive chair and settled into it. With the guitar across his lap, he strummed it gently and tried to think about what he wanted to do next. He liked his office. For whatever reason, it had good energy and he was able to come up with great ideas when he worked from this space. Perhaps it would shake out some plans today, too.
What he knew was that he had made a mistake with Bree. A critical one. That was what had trapped him on the couch in a state of suspended activity while he tried to figure out what to do about it. He’d relived it in his mind. How he could’ve changed it. What he could’ve said to make Bree smile instead of going for the jugular when he was pushed.
The drama with Missy couldn’t have been foreseen, but it just as easily could’ve been one of a dozen different emergencies that cropped up from time to time. The truth was that he could’ve handled it better.
Now he found himself in a quandary. If it was anyone but Bree, he would bury himself in his work and forget about her. But doing that would just prove her right. And it would leave him alone with nothing to show for his time with her but an old guitar, a broken heart and a diamond engagement ring.
It seemed crazy to have bought her a ring so quickly, but it didn’t feel quick with Bree. It felt as though they’d been together forever.
Ian opened his nearest desk drawer and reached inside. He pulled out the small velvet box and opened it to look at the ring. The three-carat oval diamond was encircled with a halo of micro-pavé diamonds and set in a platinum band inset with more micro-pavé diamonds. He’d known it was perfect for Bree the moment he saw it. It was elegant yet playful, a ring that would go just as well with a gown as a pair of jeans and sneakers.
It belonged to her, even though he hadn’t given it to her yet. He wanted Bree to have it. And he wanted her to know how much he truly loved her. The problem was that Bree would never feel like she was important. He had to show her how much he cared. How sorry he was about their fight and missing her show. Flashing a diamond wouldn’t be enough. She’d look at that as the same kind of bribes her father had always offered.
But words wouldn’t do, either. Bree had spent her whole life hearing platitudes and excuses from her father and from Ian back when they dated in school. He could promise her the sun, moon and stars, but it wouldn’t mean a damn to her until he handed her a planetary body. Especially after the blowup Sunday night. He’d proved to her that his promises meant nothing, even when he had the best of intentions.
Bree would only believe his actions. So action he would take.
Briana Harper has done what few artists in Nashville have been able to do—capture the heart and soul of a town and its people.
Gretchen held the newspaper in her hand and read Bree’s long-awaited review aloud at the Monday-morning business meeting.
Armed with a camera, she was able to see beyond the rhinestone-studded facade to the indomitable spirit that has long characterized the people and the ideals of Nashville. I predict this is just the beginning of a long and successful career for Ms. Harper.
It had been a week since the showing. The review had been published in the Sunday paper, but Bree hadn’t been able to read it. She’d brought it into the office for someone else to read it first. As it turned out, she had chewed her fingernails to the quick for no reason. The show had been very well received. Apparently the art critic had left before Ian showed up and their shouting match outshined the photography.
Bree’s three business partners applauded, making her cheeks flush with embarrassment.
“An excellent show, my dear,” Amelia said. “We should have champagne instead of Starbucks this morning.”
“Champagne at nine in the morning?” Natalie asked, looking mildly scandalized in her sensible black cashmere sweater.
Amelia just shrugged. She wasn’t as bothered by breaking social norms. “Why not? We have a massive stock of wines in the other room.”
“A celebratory latte is just fine. Thank you for picking them up, Natalie.”
“Of course,” Natalie said with a polite smile. “It’s Monday.”
Routines were routines. As such, Bree set aside the newspaper and fired up her tablet. It was time to discuss the Williams wedding and talk about upcoming events. The Williams event had been large and for that, Bree was thankful. She’d been a wreck the first few days after her show and her fight with Ian. The wedding had forced her to pull herself together and focus on the intricacies of her work.
She’d like to return to that focus now. Talking about the show would just make her think of how it had ended. She accepted the folded newspaper from Gretchen and laid it on top of her notebook.
“You don’t seem very happy with your review, Bree.” Amelia was frowning at her.
Bree glanced down at the glowing review and pasted a smile on her face. “Of course I’m happy. I’m thrilled. I couldn’t have asked for a better write-up. The Whitman Gallery has already called and asked to keep the collection on display for another week. This could lead to another, possibly bigger, show. And this review should bring in more business for From This Moment, too. It’s great promotion.”
“We don’t need more business,” Gretchen noted. “We’re booked solid for the next year and a half. We really should’ve scheduled ourselves a vacation or two in there.”
“We get the week between Christmas and New Year’s Eve off,” Natalie pointed out.
Gretchen nodded. “I’ll try to remember that the other fifty-one weeks a year.”
“We can take vacations,” Natalie argued. “We just have to stagger them. Amelia is going to her high school reunion soon. You could take time off if you wanted to. We just can’t all go at once.”
Gretchen and Natalie started bickering about the intricacies of their corporate leave policy. Bree tuned out, opening up a digital sticky note and making a list of things she needed to do today. By the time she was done, they’d stopped arguing and the attention shifted to business at last.
They finished up the details about an hour later and Bree was the first to dismiss herself. She needed to get the pictures from the weekend downloaded and start going through them. At the reception alone, she often took five hundred photos, not to mention everything else the day of the ceremony and the rehearsal and dinner the night before.
She was about halfway through the photographs when she heard a gentle knock at her door.
“Come in.”
She turned in time to see Amelia with the mail. Bree expected her to just leave anything on her desk, but instead, she shut the door and sat down in her guest chair.
Bree groaned inwardly and spun in her chair to face her. “What do you need? When I get done with these pictures I can help with some sugar flowers if that’s it.”
Amelia shook her head. “I’m not here because of sugar flowers, Bree, and you know it.”
She had avoided any kind of serious discussions with her friends and coworkers since the show. They knew that Ian had finally shown up and they’d broken up, but that was it. She’d been hoping she would make it to her Tuesday-Wednesday weekend without talking about it, but that wasn’t going to happen. “So what, then?”
Amelia focused her dark eyes on Bree and started twirling her auburn hair around her index finger. “I don’t know the details of what happened last week, but don’t think I haven’t noticed you avoiding me.”
“I haven’t been avoiding you,” Bree said, but they both knew she was lying. “I’ve been avoiding...talking about it. Not you.”
“Well, let’s cut to the chase, then. Why didn’t you tell me you’re in love with Ian?”
“What?” Bree shot up in her chair, nearly spilling the half-consumed latte in her hand.
Amelia put the mail in her lap and crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t play dumb with me. You’ve had that lovesick look in your eye since you got home from the moun
tains. And after your show—the tremor from your heart breaking probably registered on the Richter scale.”
Bree winced at her words. She thought she’d hidden her pain pretty well and kept up an appropriate level of professionalism at the office, but apparently not. “Is it that obvious?”
“Not necessarily. I just know you well enough to see the turmoil you’re trying to hide.”
“I’ll be fine. Just give me a few days. By the Campbell rehearsal on Friday, I should be right as rain.”
“You’re not going to get over a broken heart in three days. You’re in love. Even if you’re hurt, it’s going to take time. Tell me what happened.”
Bree didn’t want to recount the scene, but she did it. It had played over and over in her mind during the past week, so it was easy to retell. “When it’s all said and done, I trusted him and gave him my heart and I shouldn’t have. I was a fool because he did exactly what I knew he would. It’s my own fault. I marched myself up the steps to the gallows and put the noose around my neck. I can’t get mad at the hangman for doing his job.”
Amelia nodded sadly. She sat quietly for a moment. “So where does that leave you two?”
“We’re finished. Over. There’s obviously no room for anything in his life but his work, and that must be the way he likes it despite his protests and promises. If that’s his choice, then that’s just the way it is. I’m not going to waste energy fighting to be a priority in his life.”
“But you still love him,” Amelia stated.
Her words made tears threaten in Bree’s eyes. She took a deep, cleansing breath, looking up at the ceiling and blinking frantically to keep them from spilling down her cheeks.
“I don’t know that I ever stopped. And that’s what scares me the most. If I was in love with him for nine years while we were apart, how long will I be in love with him going forward? I can’t afford to lose another nine years pining for him. I want to be able to find a healthy romance with someone who thinks I’m important. I want to have a family. I don’t want to wake up and be forty with nothing to show for my life but pictures of other people’s relationships.”
Snowed In with Her Ex Page 14
