Meant to Be

by Maggie McGinnis

  “A week.”

  One miserable, lonely-again week.

  Two days ago, she’d feared the days would fly by faster than she could possibly catch them. But she’d been on a love-struck high, the world was pink and unicorn-y, and triple rainbows had decorated the pure blue sky.

  Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration of epic proportions. She was still desperately missing Daddy, she was in debt up to her eyeballs, and she was about to head back to a tour with more stops left than she could fathom.

  But being with Cooper had helped every single one of those things fade to a muted gray version of itself. And now that he was gone, they were all poking at her with their sharp colors and their pointy edges and the dreaded hopelessness that went with them.

  She had no idea how she was going to dig deep enough to find Tara Gibson in the mess that was her head right now—no idea how she could step on those stages, smile the fake smiles, and belt out the even faker music.

  And there would be no Cooper to convince her that the future looked less bleak than the present.

  Nic had called this morning to finalize their going-back-on-the-road plans, but had carefully avoided asking any personal questions this time. Shelby had a feeling her assistant was biting her nails, waiting for the day she could load Shelby on that bus and know that for the next six months her star would be surrounded by enough handlers that she couldn’t take a misstep, because there’d be no space to do so.

  “Where does your tour start back up?” Lexi asked.

  “Orlando. Disney. Happiest place on Earth.” Shelby made a face. “Because where else, right?”

  “Yuck.”

  “You know what’s killing me? Cooper and I were only together for a couple of weeks. Even Webster would have trouble qualifying it as any more than a casual fling.”

  “Did it feel like a fling?”

  “No.” Shelby took a deep breath. Of course it hadn’t. “No, it didn’t. But what do I know? It’s not like I have a lot of experience to go on here.”

  “Really?” Lexi looked mystified. “But I thought—” She broke off when Shelby shook her head.

  “No.”

  “But I’ve read—”

  “I know. It’s shocking how many men I’ve had, isn’t it?” Shelby rolled her eyes. “Except that the real number is something I can count on one hand.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “I guess I just always thought—I mean, you’re surrounded by these guys all the time. Super-hot, rich—”

  “Half of whom are complete jerks, I think I might have mentioned.”

  “You did.” Lexi poured water for tea into their mugs. “And I may still never forgive you.”

  “I couldn’t let you live under those delusions. He doesn’t deserve your adoration.”

  “I’m sure I’ll get over him eventually. Or turn my laser focus to someone you didn’t destroy for me.”

  “I’m sorry.” Shelby shrugged sadly. “Everybody knows real reality and media reality are two different things, but I don’t think most people have any idea just how different they are.”

  Lexi nodded. “So let me test that theory. Ready?”

  “No.”

  “Your favorite designer is Vera Wang. Everyone knows that.”

  “Nope. She’s lovely, and she makes gorgeous clothes.” Shelby pointed at her current outfit. “But Levi’s and a shirt from Target—that’s my reality. Nine days out of ten, when I’m not onstage, I’m in jeans or sweats, and I like them.”

  “Okay, that’s just a practice question. You and Dylan Firebrand? After your last tour? Chalet in southern France?”

  Shelby wrinkled her nose. “Gay.”

  “Shut up.”

  “True. And he actually doesn’t hide it, but since he hasn’t come out and made a capital-A announcement, the masses are still holding out hope.”

  “Damn.”

  “Sorry. Again.”

  Lexi laughed. “You’re killing me. I had such jealousy over that story!”

  “Then I’m helping! See?”

  “So the demise of Brad and Angelina’s marriage? Not you?”

  “Not me.” Shelby shook her head. “Or anyone else’s marriage, ever. One drink with a friend, plus one ambitious photographer, and bam! Story! It’s actually kind of amusing, when it isn’t slicing through you like a knife.”

  “I imagine some of the wives don’t find it so amusing, when they see their husbands on front pages with you.”

  “No.” Shelby made herself busy squeezing her tea bag against her spoon. “But only one of them ever threatened to have me deported, so I’m actually doing pretty well.”

  “Deported? But—you’re from Tennessee.”

  “Yeah. That particular guy hadn’t really chosen her for her geography skills.”

  Lexi laughed again. “I can’t even imagine this universe.”

  “You don’t want to, believe me.”

  “And in a week, back you go.” Lexi shivered. “Are you…scared?”

  “Deathly.”

  The word came out before Shelby even knew it was in her head, and when her eyes snapped up to Lexi’s, she saw her own fear reflected in her—friend’s—face.

  Friend.

  “Do you need a tour nurse? I could come along, ride in your big ole bus, help with—whatever needs helping with.” Lexi fluttered her fingers. “You know, hot guys with fevers—that sort of thing?”

  Shelby laughed, picturing the tiny nurse from Maine mixed in with the Hollywood types she’d be traveling with for the next six months. It would be so nice to have her grounded sanity along. So, so nice.

  “You’re hired.”

  Lexi’s smile faltered. “What?”

  “I said you’re hired. We leave in a week.”

  “Oh. Um.” Her hand went to her throat. “I was just—Gunnar wouldn’t—um…”

  Shelby laughed. “I’m kidding. I’d never drag you away from paradise and into my sordid traveling circus.”

  “Oh.” Lexi sobered. “But part of me wishes I was the kind of woman who could just say, ‘Hey, Gunnar! I’m off to see the world. Be back in six months!’ ”

  “You’re not, and that’s perfectly awesome. I wish I could say, ‘Hey, Gunnar! Put me on a horse with enough water to keep me alive for the next six months, and send me off into the wilds until nobody remembers who Tara Gibson was.’ ”

  “I wish you could, too.”

  “Yeah, well.” Shelby sipped her tea. “Reality dictates otherwise.”

  “Reality would be better with Cooper in it.” Lexi nodded sagely.

  “Ya think?”

  Lexi shook her head and sat back in her chair, closing her eyes. “I googled him after he left.”

  “You did?”

  “Couldn’t help it.”

  “You could have started with that when you came in, you know.”

  “I know.” Lexi shrugged. “I think part of me hoped you’d tell me. And the other part hoped you wouldn’t.”

  “Because?”

  “Because if you didn’t, then I’d know I was right about the two of you.” Lexi sighed. “And I was. Obviously.”

  Shelby took a catchy breath. “I just can’t believe the case is being reopened. But he won’t let me help. I could…help. I could.”

  “I’m sure, but I imagine there isn’t much that man has left besides his pride right now.”

  Shelby nodded. True.

  “You know—I don’t think this is forever, Shelby. I really don’t. Once this case is closed for good, I have a feeling there’s going to be a cowboy on the first flight to wherever you are by then.”

  “Maybe.”

  “She says, like she doesn’t believe a word I just uttered.” Lexi raised her eyebrows.

  “I like what you said, but no, I’m not sure I can get to the part about believing it just yet. He’s pretty convinced that if anyone ever attached our names to each other, it would ruin me.”

  She
lby waited for Lexi to argue vehemently…or at all, but instead, she tipped her head thoughtfully.

  “Unfortunately, he could be right.”

  “That’s not really what I was hoping to hear, thanks.”

  Lexi set down her mug. “I know. But I’m not big on false hope, as optimistic as I try to be. It’s a big case, Shelby. A hideous, heinous crime. Crimes. Even though he’s innocent—and let me just be very clear that I know he is—those crimes are forevermore tied to his name. And if his name becomes tied to your name…we both know how it could go down.”

  “I know. End of my career, my family’s name sullied, blah, blah, blah. I know.” Shelby sighed. “I’ve been over it a thousand times for the past forty-eight hours.”

  “So what are you going to do? Because I don’t know you very well, but I have a strong feeling you’re not going to just head out of here next week, resume your life as Tara Gibson, and be able to forget the man who rocked your world this summer.”

  “I wish I could.”

  “You can’t.”

  “I know.” Shelby drained her glass. “But here’s what I did figure out, somewhere around two o’clock this morning. I can go back out on the road as Tara, finish out this tour, and then I can be done. I can take off the wigs and glitter and I can head back to Nashville and find Shelby again.”

  “And…Cooper?”

  “God willing—yes.” Shelby nodded. “I know he needs to do this alone. I get it, as much as I hate it. But I’m trying desperately hard to have faith in the system here. I can’t believe the case would go back to trial, and I’ll never believe they could possibly convict him of a crime he didn’t commit.”

  She took a deep, fortifying breath. “And so, six months from now, he’ll be cleared, I’ll be just Shelby Quinn, invisible has-been, and maybe we could pick up where we left off. Maybe—if we both want it badly enough—we could figure it out then.”

  “That’s an extremely measured and mature outlook, for someone who’s only two days out from kissing somebody goodbye.”

  “I’m totally faking it. Don’t be too impressed.” Shelby shook her head. “And really, I’m just saying words out loud, in hopes something—or somebody—will keep me from driving to the airport right now.”

  Lexi looked at her for a long, uncomfortable moment, then shook her head as she stood up. “I just wish he wasn’t right, Shelby. I really, really wish he wasn’t right.”

  “Me, too.”

  “But do you know what I just realized?”

  “I should head to the airport, reason be damned?”

  “No.” Lexi walked across the living area and picked up Daddy’s guitar. “I realized that heartbreak makes for the best music, right?”

  “I’m not going to capitalize on Cooper’s hell to write a new song, Lex.”

  “No.” Lexi handed her the guitar. “You’re going to capitalize on your own. You probably have a whole new album stored up right in that little head of yours.”

  Shelby was silent, staring out the window at the muted hubbub of the Whisper Creek stables downhill from her cabin. Then she let her eyes travel to the opposite window, where Cooper’s cabin stood, empty. He hadn’t even left the stupid chair.

  Lexi tapped the guitar. “Write it down, Shelby. If you can’t help him right now…maybe—maybe you can at least help you.”

  Chapter 25

  Later that day, Cooper clicked off the television and tossed the remote onto the motel-room coffee table, disgusted at yet another speculative, inaccurate report on the newly reopened case. A part of him wondered if it was even possible to get a fair hearing, given the jury poisoning that was going on at the hands of the local media.

  On the advice of Lionel, he’d come straight here from Logan Airport two days ago, since reporters were apparently camped out at his apartment. And for two days, he’d paced this ten-by-twelve room, wondering what the hell was happening to his life.

  Again.

  His new phone rang, and he immediately picked it up, since only Lionel and Phoebe knew the number. He smiled tightly when he saw that it was his sister.

  “Hey, Wonder Woman. What’s up?”

  “The usual. What’s up with you?”

  Ha. The usual, he almost said. “Oh, just hanging in a motel room, waiting for the paparazzi to get bored so I can go home. Any ideas for how I can distract them for long enough to go get some clean underwear?”

  “Cooper, seriously. Could we not talk about your underwear?”

  “Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

  “Your case.”

  He sat down. “What do you mean?”

  “First, can I just put it out there that I know I’m only fourteen? And could I also ask you not to comment on that fact?”

  “Um, sure.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Why?”

  “Promise you won’t kill me?”

  He stood up. Oh, hell. “Why, Phoebs? What have you done?”

  “Nothing bad.”

  “Then why are you afraid I’ll want to kill you?”

  She paused, and he could practically hear her wheels turning. “Because I may possibly have done something you wouldn’t approve of. Maybe. But for very, very good reasons.”

  “If you put yourself in danger, young lady—”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Out with it, squirt. What did you do?”

  “I went to visit Raymond.”

  “You what?” Cooper paced toward the window, then back to the door, then back to the window. What the hell had gotten into her? “Why?” Then he paused. “How?”

  “Doesn’t matter how. I have—ways. As for the why…because.” He could picture her forcing her chin upward, even though it was quivering. “Some things needed saying, and nobody else was saying them.”

  “Oh, Lord.” He closed his eyes, forced his voice to quiet. “Things like what, Phoebs?”

  “Things like everything, Cooper. This was a bullshit case the first time around, and it’s an even more bullshit case this time. And don’t even say anything about my swearing, because omigod, I’ll hurt you.”

  She paused, and when he didn’t say anything, she hurtled onward. “Dad knows it is, and he’s not doing anything, and when Mom’s not staring out the window, she’s trying to pretend she’s not crying. Somebody had to do something, Coop.”

  “And you thought that somebody should be you?”

  “I was a little short on options.”

  Cooper forced himself to inhale slowly, his innards churning with a mixture of fear for his little sister, and pride that she’d had enough spine to take matters into her own—admittedly naïve—hands.

  “Are you going to ask me how the visit went?”

  “I’m still trying to figure out whether to string you up for even going.”

  “I think he knows, Cooper.”

  “Knows what?”

  “I think he knows you didn’t have anything to do with this.”

  Cooper sat on the edge of the bed. Of course he did. “What makes you think that?”

  “The fact that he agreed to see me, for one thing.”

  “You probably shocked the hell out of him, showing up like that.”

  “I didn’t stay long. He didn’t have a lot to say. I’m sure that’s shocking.”

  “Well, he sure had a lot to say on the stand. Maybe he used up his vocabulary in court.” Cooper pulled a frustrated hand through his hair. This was his fault. His little sister had walked into that grimy correctional center, had sat in one of those plastic chairs across from—Raymond. And she’d done it for him.

  “Why, Phoebs? Why would you go there? What did you think could possibly happen?”

  “I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t think I could possibly make things worse, so…I went.”

  “Phoebs—”

  “Listen.” She rolled her eyes—he just knew it—and sighed. “This stupid case ripped our family apart, and I couldn’t figure out how in the world it had ever happened. And since Mom’s
not talking, and Dad’s definitely not talking, I decided it was up to me.”

  He smiled. He couldn’t help it. She was just so damn earnest and old already.

  Then the smile fell. This case had made her too earnest and too old.

  —

  “This is a bad idea.” Lexi pulled jeans out of Shelby’s suitcase and put them into her drawer.

  Shelby grabbed them and tossed them back into the open bag on her bed. “I know it is, but I have to do it.”

  “Where is the woman who—a mere two days ago—was going to sit tight for six months and then see where things were at?”

  “I have absolutely no freaking idea, and I’m good with that.” Shelby smiled, feeling lighter than she had in ages.

  “Who are you, and what have you done with Shelby?”

  Shelby laughed. “Maybe I’ve been drinking too much of the water out here. I don’t know.”

  “So you drank the water, fell madly in love, wrote ten songs in two days, and now you’re off to chase your true love across the country?”

  “It sounds a little less insane in my words, thanks very much.”

  “Well, you might want to add a coating of my words to them, honey. And some reality. Running off half-cocked to Boston is a no-good-very-bad-terrible idea.”

  “Says the girl who spent two hours last night telling me how romantic it was of Gunnar to fly across the country and chase you down so he could bring you back here to live permanently?”

  “An ill-timed story, okay?” Lexi sighed, flopping on the bed. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Well, I was.”

  “Clearly.” She sat back up. “Shelby, seriously, what’s your plan?”

  Shelby smiled. “I absolutely do not have one, and I’m finding that sort of refreshing.”

  “No-good-very-bad—”

  “It’ll be fine. It has to be. It will be.”

  “Does he know you’re coming?”

  “No.” Shelby shook her head vehemently. “He’d be furious.”

  “And yet—”

  “I know.” She tossed a pile of shirts on top of the jeans. “But the more I think about this, the more I realize how much of a martyr he’s trying to be. And the more I realize he’s being a martyr—trying to save my reputation and career and yadda yadda—the more I love him.”