She shrugged. “A girl can wish.”
With a shake of my head, I went on, “She’s taken heat from the folks in our hometown for that stupid-ass song I wrote. If people find out her name, you know what they’ll do.”
“Is she still doing the Instagram thing?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“If you both got ahead of it, made it look like the two of you made up, the fallout from your fans wouldn’t be so bad. Right now, they look at her as the woman who caused you pain.”
Lori’s advice rattled around in my head for a few moments. “I’ve got three concerts in Nashville starting the day after tomorrow. Once I finish them, I’ll reach out to Bristol.”
She nodded. “Smart. Now, you’re either going to buy me dinner or take me up to a room. Which is it going to be?” she asked, a sexy smirk on her face.
“Dinner.”
With a dramatic sigh, she picked up her menu. “Fine. I’m ordering the most expensive steak on the menu then. A girl’s gotta get a fine specimen of meat somewhere.”
Bristol
I SAT ON the back porch of Mindy’s house and stared down at Cypress Creek. Mindy lived about a half a mile down from me, right on the main street that ran through town in a house her parents had once lived in. When they retired, they gave the house to Mindy and moved into the innkeeper’s cottage at Hotel Faust. They had bought it a number of years ago and had completely remodeled the whole place.
Mindy’s house sat on the top of a hill that looked down on the constantly flowing creek. It was so peaceful, hearing the water slowly move along. Even though it was one of the nicest spots in Comfort, Jim hated that they lived in the house that Mindy’s folks had given to her.
The back door opened, and Mindy walked out. She handed me a beer then sat down.
“How are you doing?”
She shrugged as she stared ahead. “Better, after tossing the last of Jim’s shit out onto the front yard. I’m going to owe Drake big time.”
I smiled then looked at her and let my smile fade away. “I know I’ve said it a thousand times, but I’m so sorry, Mindy.”
She shrugged and took a sip of tea. “I think I knew all along, and truth be told, I’m not even upset. I’m more pissed he made a fool out of me. It would have been better if he had just left me, rather than sneaking around with his assistant.”
Her hand went to her stomach. “That day I came to the tea room, you asked what was wrong.”
“I remember.”
“Jim had just told me he didn’t want the baby…or me.”
“That’s why you weren’t shocked when Drake told you?”
She nodded. “He said he was in love with another woman. I wasn’t surprised, considering when he was screwing her, I was at the doctor’s appointment for the baby…by myself.”
“He’s an idiot.”
She nodded. “Drake offered to have a few guys jump him after work. It was tempting, but I told him no.”
“I think he got his punishment when he got home and all of his stuff was sitting in the front yard.”
A smile crept over her face. “My folks are pissed about that part.”
“They’ll get over it.”
She turned and looked at me. “I’m sorry I missed…the day. It hadn’t even dawned on me it was April second. I guess we can now say we were both left on April second.”
I scoffed. “It’s just a day. Who cares.”
“You do. I know you do. I found the scrapbook.”
I swallowed hard and looked back down at the creek.
“I hate men,” I said softly as she reached for my hand and squeezed it.
“I do too.”
My eyes stung with tears. “I was helping Ida in the garden today and a song came on. Tyler Richard’s new one.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard it. It’s really good.”
“Anson wrote it.”
I closed my eyes and dropped my head back against the chair and laughed. “Do you know even when it’s another singer on the radio, I can always tell when it’s a song he wrote? It’s like he puts something in it that he knows I’ll pick up on. Why does he do that? I asked Ida if he wrote it and she said she wasn’t sure. Of course, I had to look it up, and sure enough, Anson Meyer wrote the lyrics.”
“Has he reached out to you at all?”
With my eyes still closed, I let out a slow exhale. “Twice a year I get a card from him. My birthday and the day we first told each other we loved one another.”
“And you don’t think he still loves you, Bristol?” Mindy asked.
I wiped away my tears and then snapped my head forward. “Why are we talking about my ex? What have you decided to do about Jim?”
“I hired a lawyer this morning. I’m going to file for divorce and ask for sole custody of the baby, which shouldn’t be hard since he said he doesn’t want to be a part of his or her life. Jim said he doesn’t want anything. So all we really have to do is wait for the required amount of time. Some sort of cooling-off period.”
“Good,” I said. “What about the house?”
She laughed, but it wasn’t filled with humor. “I guess my folks had a sixth sense about the marriage, because the house is still in their names.”
I leaned forward. “What!”
Mindy nodded. “Yep. Jim can’t touch it, not that I think he would.”
“Bravo to Mom and Dad!”
She giggled. “I guess so.”
The back door opened, and Drake walked out. He looked at Mindy and smiled. The way she looked at him almost made me blush.
“How are you feeling?” he asked as he leaned down to kiss her on the cheek then moved to do the same to me.
“I’m good. Tired, but good. I think it’s starting to sink in that I’ll be doing this all alone.”
I reached for her hand. “Hey, you’re not alone. We’re here.”
“I’ll even babysit for you,” Drake said.
Mindy looked at Drake with that same look she used to give him in high school.
Oh dear, I know that look.
All three of our phones went off at once with a text. I opened it to see it was from Ida.
Drake jumped up and announced, “Ida made a bee sting!”
Mindy moaned in delight, then got up to follow Drake.
I read the text.
Ida: Made you a bee sting, Mindy. Drake, Bristol…you as well.
Well, when Ida Meyer made any dessert, people went running to it. A bee sting, though. Yeah, no one would turn that down. I followed Drake and Mindy through the house and out into the garage.
“You feel like walking?” Drake asked Mindy.
“Hell, no. I want that cake, and I want it right now,” she declared.
Drake laughed as he made his way over to his truck. “I’ll drive then!”
Ten minutes later, the three of us walked up the steps to a large Victorian-style house: the home of Ida and Irwin Meyer. The Meyers, like my mother’s family, were one of the first families to settle in Comfort. Anson’s great-grandmother’s family owned a grocery store on High Street. They built the Victorian in 1895, as well as a house out on the family ranch.
When Irwin inherited the house from his parents, he and Ida moved in and let Carl and Pearl, Anson’s parents, live in the main house on the ranch. Carl ran the cattle ranch. That was another historical Victorian, but nothing like this house. This was the grandest house in Comfort. It was rumored that the Kaffee Kreis, also known as the coffee circle, still went on each month in Ida’s house. Only members of the original seven founding families were invited to the coffee gathering that had started in the late 1800s.
I knocked on the door and glanced around the front porch, while Drake and Mindy talked about planting some sort of flowers in the back of her house. Ida opened the door and promptly stepped out onto the porch.
“Bristol, sweetheart!” She wrapped me up in her arms and then pushed me back at arm’s length to give me a once-over. She repeated the process wit
h Mindy and Drake. Every time you saw Ida Meyer, she acted as if she hadn’t seen you in years—even if she’d just seen you that morning.
Ida looked at Mindy and said, “It’s on the kitchen counter. I figured you needed a pick-me-up, Mindy, sweetheart.”
Both Drake and Mindy rushed into the house, leaving me and Ida on the front porch.
I laughed. “I heard you had a visitor the other day and Carl threatened to shoot him.”
Ida rolled her eyes. “I don’t mind talking to them if they ask about Anson’s career. But this one wasn’t asking about Anson. He was prying into Carl and Anson’s relationship. And I’m positive he’s been here before, asking questions.”
My eyes widened in surprise. “Really? How would he know about their relationship?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know, Sweetheart. I wish those two would make up already. I’m tired of having to leave the state of Texas anytime I want to see my grandson. Or having him sneak home to visit us.”
That made my heart drop. “Anson’s been back to Comfort?”
Ida looked angry with herself for saying anything. “He has a few times, yes.”
A sick feeling hit me in the stomach. Anson had been home and hadn’t even bothered to stop and see me. Why did that hurt so damn much? Had my mother truly seen him the other day? There was no way…was there?
“Has he been home recently?” I asked.
“Unfortunately, no.”
“Are you sure?”
She looked at me with a confused expression. “I’m positive.”
With a smile, I wrapped my arm around hers and pushed away the stupid feeling. “I’m sure he and his daddy will make up.”
“And you? Will you ever forgive Anson?” she asked. I could hear the sadness in her voice.
“If Anson wanted to truly make up, why is he not even bothering to call me?”
She lifted a brow. “Says the girl who has his phone number as well. And ignores his cards.”
I let out a sigh of frustration. “What we had is all in the past, and I’ve moved on.”
“But you haven’t forgiven him? It was a song written out of anger, Bristol. We all do and say things in anger that we don’t mean.”
“It’s not about the song anymore. I was angry, yes. I felt betrayed, and I wasn’t ready to forgive him. It’s just, I never really thought he would give up the fight like he did.”
With a thoughtful look in her eyes, she nodded. “A woman needs to know she’s worth the fight.”
I laughed. “I guess so. But that’s all water under the bridge.”
Ida stared at me for a few moments and then smiled. “Let’s go eat dessert.”
“Mrs. Meyer?”
The voice startled us both, and we turned to see a man and woman standing on the steps of the porch.
Ida smiled. “Yes, may I help you?”
They both looked from Ida to me. “Are you Ms. Meyers?” the man asked.
With a chuckle, I shook my head. “No, my name is Bristol Overmann…Is there something we can help you with?”
It wasn’t uncommon for history buffs to stop by and ask Ida and Irwin about the house they lived in.
“Yes, I was wondering if we might have a few words with Mrs. Meyer,” the man said.
The woman kept quiet, but I realized she was holding something behind her back.
“Is it about the house?” I asked.
“No, about her grandson, Anson. Do you know Anson Meyer as well—Ms. Overmann, was it?” he asked me with a smile.
“Yes. We went to school together, and I’m sorry, the Anson family doesn’t grant interviews.”
“What about you?” the woman asked.
My smile instantly faded. “No.”
“No, you won’t answer a few questions for us?”
Ida replied before I could. “That’s what you heard. If you’ll kindly leave the property before I introduce you to my Smith & Wesson. And if you don’t know what that is…it’s a gun. And you’re on private property and have been asked to leave.”
Now I saw what had been behind the woman’s back when she pulled it out and snapped a picture of me and Ida. Then she turned and walked back down the porch steps. The male reporter stared at me a beat too long.
“Sir, if you would please leave.”
“Of course…Ms. Overmann.”
My heart started to pound. How much of my conversation with Ida had they heard?
As they both walked away, the male reporter turned and glanced back over his shoulder to look directly at me. “Enjoy the day, Bristol.”
Anger pulsed in my veins at his causal use of my name. Dickhead.
Ida grabbed hold of my arm and tugged me into the house. “Oh, dear. I think we need to call Anson.”
At that very moment, my cell phone rang. When I looked down and saw his number, I nearly dropped the phone.
“It’s…it’s Anson,” I whispered.
Ida ushered me into the house as she reached for my phone and answered it.
“Hello?” Ida said, her voice a little panicky.
“Yes, Sweetheart. No, you called the right number. Of course, she’s standing right here!”
What in the hell were the odds Anson would call me at that exact moment? After all these years.
Ida handed me the phone.
“H-hello?” I said, my voice sounding weak.
“Bristol? What’s wrong?”
The concern in his voice nearly brought me to tears. I closed my eyes and let the timber of his voice settle in around me. I’d heard him occasionally on an awards show or during an interview, but his voice always sounded so serious, with a sharp edge to it. This, this was the Anson I had fallen in love with so many years ago.
I snapped out of my daze and forced myself to speak.
“Nothing. We just had an incident on Ida’s porch. Two reporters. They took a picture of us, and they might have overheard a conversation we had … about you and me. Or what used to be you and me. Um, if that makes sense.”
“Fuck. I was calling to warn you that there’s a reporter I got into a … disagreement with early on in my career. He’s popped his head back up and is snooping around Comfort. I think he’s trying to find you.”
I swallowed hard. Was that the person my mother had seen when she thought it might be Anson? “Well, I think he just did, and I’m pretty sure I just offered up my name for him as well.”
“What? Why in the hell would you do that?”
The shock of him calling me out like that quickly turned to anger. “I’m sorry, Anson. It was a younger couple. I thought they were here to ask Ida about the house. I’m not always on guard for reporters, you know, and they didn’t fit the part at all. I wouldn’t have to be on guard if you hadn’t…” I stopped talking and let my voice trail off.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. I just…I don’t want to cause you any more pain, Bri.”
I swallowed hard, and before I could stop myself, I said, “You couldn’t possibly cause any more, Anson.”
He was silent over the phone.
Clearing my voice, I asked, “Is that the only reason you called? To warn me about a reporter?”
“No. I mean, yes. I guess so.”
His admission that he had only called to warn me caused the back of my eyes to sting with unshed tears. Anson Meyer was not still hung up on me, no matter how many stupid, sad songs he wrote.
“Warning taken. If you’ll excuse me, I need to let you go.” My hand went to the wood banister in the foyer, and I fought to keep my breathing normal. His voice sounded like angels singing in my ears. God, I had missed his voice.
“Okay, I’m sorry again. Hopefully they’ll let it go.”
Ha. Not a chance if they overheard even one sentence of my conversation with Ida.
“Hopefully.”
“I hope you’re doing good, Bristol.”
A bittersweet tug pulled in the middle of my chest. I fought with the thrill of finally hearing his voi
ce, the rush of having him say my name again, and the sadness of him not being here. I didn’t dare speak, because the moment I did, I would cry.
“Right. I’ll let you go. Take care, okay.”
I forced myself to speak. “Yep. You too.”
“Bye, Bristol.”
“Bye, A-anson.” The hitch in my voice was a clear indication I was upset, and before he could say anything, I ended the call.
I closed my eyes as I turned and stumbled back onto the steps. I forced the rise of nausea back down into my stomach as I buried my face in my hands. Finally, I let the tears I had been holding in for Lord knows how long, fall freely. Sob after sob, I cried as I sat on the steps of Anson’s grandparents’ home.
I felt someone sit down next to me.
“Shhh, it’s okay, Bri,” my brother softly said. I leaned my head onto his shoulder and did the one thing I swore I would never do again. I cried over Anson Meyer and my stupid broken heart.
Damn it all to hell. I was as much in love with Anson today, as I had been on the day he walked away from me.
And I hated him for that.
Anson
THE BILE SAT at the base of my throat as I stared out over the green grass hills of my Nashville home.
I heard the same hurt and pain in her voice as I had so many years ago. She hardly said a full sentence to me over the phone, but I knew. I knew because I felt it too.
Zeus ran up and dropped his ball at my feet and barked for my attention. I picked it up and tossed it again. He ran down the massive backyard with one mission in mind: get the ball and bring it back so we could do this a million times. I looked around at the large trees that surrounded the home I had bought a few years ago. One of the reasons I liked this place was the old farmhouse that sat on the property that I had converted into a recording studio. Every time I saw it, it reminded me of her. Of Bristol. I smiled when I thought about her love for old farmhouses. Hence, the reason for her tea room’s name.
My phone rang, and without even looking at it, I answered.
“Hello?”
“How’s your head?”
“My head?” I asked with a slight laugh.
“Yes, Anson. Your head. Have you been drinking? Are you in the right frame of mind for tomorrow’s show?”
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