I held up the pitcher of tea. “Refill?”
“Sure.”
We drank our tea in silence for a few minutes before he spoke.
“Thanks for letting me come up.”
I really didn’t want to have this conversation, but with confidence still buzzing through my veins, I hoped it would be a little easier.
“Do you want to sit down?” I asked.
We headed back to my ratty sofa and I hoped he hadn’t noticed the stains or the odd smell emanating from it. He didn’t seem to notice anything but me.
“I’m sorry about what happened at the club,” he said, not quite meeting my eyes. “I...when I’m around you, I sort of lose my mind, I guess.” He turned to me. “I was so worried when you didn’t return my calls. I was afraid something had happened to you.”
I knew what he was really getting at. He wanted to know why I hadn’t called him back. I didn’t answer, just waited as patiently as possible for him to finish what he’d come here to say.
“I meant what I said, Syd. You’ve come to mean a lot to me.”
“I know.” I didn’t doubt his sincerity. “I just don’t see how this can be anything more than what it is.”
“And what do you think this is?” he asked looking at me through narrowed eyes.
I shrugged. “A fling. A good time. A one-night stand...times three.”
He looked at me for a moment and I could feel myself blush under his assessing gaze. “That’s really what you think?”
I didn’t feel that way, but I sure wasn’t going to offer up my heart in return for his thinking of me as the girl of the week. I had no doubt that he thought he meant what he said about caring about me. I just thought he’d been playing a part for so long, he didn’t know what was true in his own heart.
“Yeah. That’s what I think.”
Dex looked disappointed. “You’re wrong.”
“Look, Dex. I can tell you’re sincere. I believe that you do think you have feelings for me that go beyond crazy bathroom sex. But what happens next week when some other blonde catches your eye? The week after that?”
He shook his head. “No, this is different, Syd. I know it.” He looked at his hands. “I’ve never been able to open up to someone the way I can you. I can be myself.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “There’s a reason I’ve never written my own stuff before. Why I sing songs about beer and women and partying. It’s easy. It doesn’t take much of yourself to sing that stuff, you know?”
I nodded.
“But the other night, when we were working on that song, something clicked. A door opened and for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t afraid to put it all out there.”
“It’s a good song,” I agreed. “I think you need to trust yourself more.”
He frowned. “My label doesn’t want to hear it.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“I played the demo for my producer. He said it was a great song. For somebody else.”
“But it’s your song.”
“Doesn’t matter. I have a certain audience that expects certain things. And love songs aren’t one of them.”
“That’s not fair.” It made me mad. We’d worked hard on that song. It was Dex’s and now he wasn’t even going to get to record it.
He shrugged. “That’s business.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet. The label is bound and determined that the song won’t be on the album. That people won’t accept me as a serious artist. If I go forward with it and it flops, I can kiss my contract goodbye.”
“I don’t believe that.”
He squeezed my hand and gave me a small smile. “See? You’re good for me.” He moved in closer and I knew he was about to kiss me. “And I wish you’d let me be good for you.”
I leaned away. “I just can’t, Dex.”
I stood up and paced behind the couch, not trusting myself to be so close to him. “I can’t be that girl, Dex. No matter how I might feel about you.”
“That girl?”
“The girl in the tabloid photo. The girl with you on the red carpet. The eye candy. The trophy wife. The girl who even if I do make it someday, people will say it’s because I’m nailing Dex Wilder.”
I stopped and looked at him. “Geoff Nolan came up to me after the show tonight. He heard my song at the contest and wants to see more. He gave me his card.”
“Sydney! That’s great!” He stood, too.
“But don’t you get it? It wasn’t because of my looks. Or because I was in a tabloid with a country music star. Or because he thought I was the girlfriend of a rich and powerful force in the industry. It was because of me and what I can do.” I shook my head. “It’s what I’ve always wanted. To be seen for who I am and what I can do. Not what I look like or who I date.”
He looked at me for a minute before he spoke. “I understand, Sydney. Believe me. But it doesn’t change how I feel about you. And I think you feel something for me, too, because you’re not the kind of girl who is looking for an easy way to a record deal. Or the kind who gets a thrill out of nailing a celebrity in the back of a tour bus.”
He walked to me and stroked my cheek with his thumb. “You’re beautiful and intelligent and talented,” he whispered.
My breath caught. “And I want you to have everything you deserve.”
He swallowed. “I won’t get in the way of that. If you think that having something with me will ruin everything else for you, I’ll go and not bother you again.” He smiled and traced my bottom lip with his thumb. “No matter how much I want to.”
He waited for me to tell him not to go. I closed my eyes and forced myself not to answer.
After a moment he pulled his hand back.
“Goodbye, Sydney. And good luck. With everything.”
I waited until the door closed behind Dex to curl up in a ball on my smelly old couch and let my broken heart bleed.
* * * *
When the phone rang at 8 a.m., I knew two things for certain. One, it was Tuesday and two, my mother was on the other end of the line. I dragged my puffy, tear-swollen eyes open and reached for the phone.
“Hi, Mom.”
“You sound awful. Are you sick?”
I cleared my throat. “No, Mom. We had a gig last night.” I wasn’t going to tell her I’d spent the night crying over some guy. That would only engender more questions and the goal here was to get off the phone as quickly as possible.
“Oh, that’s nice. Did you have a good time?”
“Yeah, it was great.” I rubbed my itchy eyes and hoped she didn’t ask more questions.
“Sydney, your dad and I have been a little worried about you.”
“Really? Why?” I was sure I could list the reasons: no boyfriend, no boyfriend and no boyfriend.
“We saw those magazine pictures, Sydney.” She paused. “Well, I did. I didn’t think it was something your father should see.”
Absolute horror froze any comeback on its way to my lips and I had to force myself to swallow before I could answer. This was my worst nightmare. Total humiliation. “It’s not what it looked like.”
“I should hope not. The Ladies Auxiliary was shocked. Shocked, Sydney.”
Well, that wouldn’t take much. They were shocked if a married woman chose to use her own name after taking her vows. Still, I imagine those pictures had well and truly sent some of those proper, uptight ladies into a dead faint. I smiled a little at the visual. Hmm, maybe there was a song in there.
“Sorry, Mom.” I shifted to the side of the bed. “You don’t have to worry about that again.” I swallowed. “I’m not seeing the guy anymore.”
“That’s what a wanted to hear.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry.”
“I am worried, Sydney. I’m worried you’re not meeting the right kind of young men. All those musician types—they’re fun to toy with, I suppose, but they aren’t the marrying kind.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
I could just see her wave her perfectly manicured hand in dismissal.
“That’s why I’m here in town.”
“What?” I shot up.
“I’m here in Nashville, Sydney. I thought we should have a chat, face to face.”
Shit, shit, shit.
“Well, I’m pretty busy this week…”
“I flew all the way down here to see you and you can’t even make time for your mother?”
The guilt trip worked. And despite the constant dictates on how I should live my life, I did love my mom and it had been a long time since I’d seen her.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I would love to see you. Where are you staying?”
“I’m at the Opryland Hotel. I thought you could meet me for breakfast.”
It had been years since I’d eaten this early in the morning and after last night’s drama, I wasn’t sure my stomach could take it. But there was no graceful way to get out of it. “I’ll be there in an hour.”
After a few parting words, I hung up the phone and got in the shower. The warm water felt good on my face and took some of the kinks out of my back. I scrubbed the light make-up off my face that I hadn’t bothered to remove the night before and by the time I got out of the shower, the bathroom was completely steamed up but I felt marginally better.
As I searched my closet for something to wear that my mother would approve of, I realized just how concerned Mom must be to fly down here. I’d lived here two years and my parents had never once visited. I’d always gone home if I wanted to see them. She was truly worried and I felt bad about putting that on her.
At the back of my closet, I found the black slacks and pink sweater set Mom had given me for Christmas, the tags still on them. I grimaced, but put them on anyway, pulled my hair back into a low, sleek ponytail and applied some make-up. I took out the large gold hoop earrings and put in the pair of diamond studs Mom had sent for my birthday and frowned at the unfamiliar reflection of myself in the mirror.
I was ready to meet Mom.
* * * *
Opryland Hotel is truly a wonder. With almost 3000 rooms, atriums, spa and even an indoor river, the place is an attraction all to itself. But it’s huge, and it’s easy to get lost once inside, so I was a few minutes late meeting Mom at one of the little restaurants inside the hotel.
She wasn’t alone at the table, though, and I was conscious of my out-of-breath state and the job the summer humidity had no doubt done on my hair. I slid into an empty seat next to Mom just as the waitress was setting orange juice in front of her and the other two people already at the table.
“Hi, Mom. Sorry I’m late.”
Mom smiled at me, then at our breakfast mates. “Sydney is very punctual normally, aren’t you, dear?”
“Yes. Of course,” I lied.
“Sydney, I’d like you to meet my good friend, Nancy White.”
That name sounded familiar…
“And her son, Gregory.”
Oh, yeah. Now I remembered.
“Gregory is a lawyer in Knoxville.”
I forced a smile. “Nice to meet you, Gregory,” I said. He was seated conveniently next to me and I shook his hand.
“A pleasure,” he said, smiling at me. “Mom told me you were lovely and she was right. For once.” Gregory winked and I knew I had a co-conspirator.
Gregory was easy on the eyes, too. Tall, with light hair and gorgeous green eyes, I doubted getting a girl to go out with him was an obstacle. I wondered why he’d let his mother drag him here to meet me.
“Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about you, too,” I said, smiling back.
The mothers shared a look and a small smile and sipped their tea.
“Sydney is a singer,” Mom said. “She’s very good.”
Mom had actually never heard me sing, except for high school musical productions, but hey, the vote of confidence was nice.
“I’d love to hear you sometime.” His smile was warm and genuine and there was no earthly reason I shouldn’t give in to Mom’s matchmaking efforts and give the guy a shot. Except one.
“I’m playing tonight. Are you going to be in town long?”
“I’m heading back to Knoxville tomorrow morning,” Gregory said.
“But he’s a partner in his firm. No one is going to get upset if he extends his trip another day. Or two.” Mrs. White cast a sideways look at my mother and I had to concentrate on not doing the eye-roll my mom hated.
“I’m sure Sydney has plans. I don’t want to disrupt things for her,” Gregory said politely, but firmly.
A man who knew how to handle his mother. Maybe I should take lessons.
“Well, I’m just saying,” Mrs. White said. “You have that option.”
Although I only managed to get down a croissant and a glass of orange juice, the breakfast wasn’t nearly as horrifying as I had feared. Gregory was funny and nice and was taking the whole set-up thing rather well. I found myself laughing at his intelligent, semi-sarcastic comments more than once. By the time breakfast was over, the mothers were smiling with the smug I-told-you-I-know-what’s-best-for-you look and passing knowing glances to each other.
“Well, Nancy and I are going to do some shopping,” my mom said, carefully blotting her mouth with the linen napkin. “Sydney, maybe you can show Gregory the city a little.”
“Yes, Gregory is here often for business,” Mrs. White added. “But never for pleasure.”
I looked over at Gregory with a barely contained smile.
He returned the grin and shrugged. “Only if Sydney doesn’t already have plans.”
I could have easily made up something, but Gregory was fun to be around. If I made an excuse and went back to my apartment, I would spend the day wallowing in self pity thinking about you-know-who. Not an appealing option.
“I’m free.”
The mothers left with an admonishment to behave, and Gregory and I decided to take a walk through one of the atriums.
Plants and trees and flowers of every imaginable variety fresh from the hotel’s private greenhouse filled every space, making walking the stone pathways feel more intimate than it actually was. Sunlight filtered through the soaring glass-domed roof and the gurgle of numerous water features made it feel like strolling through an enchanted garden, only better, since it was air-conditioned.
“So how’d you get roped into this blind date?” I asked him as we walked along, side-by-side.
“Mom’s been pestering me for while to call you,” he said. “But I’d put her off. Nothing personal.”
“I understand. It seems like your mom and mine are two peas in a pod.”
“Yeah. Seems that way. Sorry about the ambush date thing,” he said smiling. “If I’d known they planned to spring it on you, I would have made some excuse. Or at least called to warn you.”
“Thanks.” I shrugged. “But I wasn’t doing anything today, anyway. And this hasn’t been bad.”
“No. Not bad at all.” We stopped on an arched bridge, overlooking a small pond surrounded by more plants and flowers, and leaned against the railing. “Maybe mothers really do know best. Once in a while.” He looked at me and smiled. “I like you.”
I could tell he did. And if I had met him under different circumstances, I might have pursued something with him. But as it was, my heart was still aching for just one person. The wrong person.
“I like you, too, Gregory, but—”
“But you don’t want to go out with a guy your mom set you up with?”
“No, it’s not that. I… there’s someone else.” I looked away. “Or was.”
“Ah, I see. Bad timing, then.” He grimaced.
“Yeah. Horrible. You’re a really nice guy, though.”
“It’s ok. You don’t have to explain, Sydney.”
I looked back at him. He was smiling again, a tendril of blond hai
r falling over his forehead. He was perfect. Funny, smart, successful and most definitely hot. He was the kind of guy a girl would end up in the society pages with, instead of a seedy tabloid. But I just couldn’t think about someone else. Not yet. It was all still too raw.
“You’re still welcome to come to the show tonight,” I said. “If you want to.”
“I’d love to hear you sing. But I don’t want to give Mom false hopes for a proposal and grandchildren.” He smiled and straightened. “Here,” he said, pulling a business card from his jacket pocket. “My card. I really did have a fun this morning. And I’d love to spend more time with you, sometime. If things change…well, keep me in mind, okay?”
I took the card he offered and stared at it for a minute before putting it in my purse. “Okay.”
“I am actually here on business a lot, like Mom said. We could, I don’t know, have dinner or something.”
“We can do that even if things don’t change, Gregory.” I said. “Just as friends.” I leaned in close and whispered. “The moms don’t even have to know.”
“That sounds great. And it’s Greg. I hate ‘Gregory’.”
We met up with the mothers a little while later, when Greg had a sudden ‘emergency’ that required him to head back to Knoxville right away. So with a hug and a wink, he ushered his mother into his black BMW and sped out of the hotel’s circular drive. Which left me alone with Mom.
“It’s too bad Gregory had to go back,” Mom said, frowning. “It seemed like you two hit it off.”
“Yeah. We did. Maybe another time.”
We walked back inside to the atrium and sat down on a park bench along one of the walkways.
“You didn’t like him.”
“No, I really did,” I said honestly. “It’s just…”
“That musician you were in the photos with,” Mom finished. There was a disappointed look in her eye when she turned to me.
“Yeah,” I breathed. “Dex.” Just saying his name hurt. “But I’m not seeing him anymore.”
Mom surprised me then. “Why not?”
“What?”
“It’s clear you really like this guy, Sydney.” She took a deep breath then leveled her gaze on me. “I’m still your mother and I know when my baby girl is hurting.”
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