Cole and Jillian (Pianos and Promises - A Novella Series Book 3)

by Peel,Jennifer

  Now here I was with a choice. I couldn’t even believe I was entertaining the thought of going. I had visions of attending and seeing him there with his harem of flight attendants, or perhaps a look of disgust when he got a good look at me during normal waking hours. Or worse, what if the little light we ignited still burned and he was a man of his word?

  I knew his history. His fall from grace was documented on news outlets all over the country over the years: two failed marriages, alcohol-fueled rants, lost deals, cancelled concerts, and the likes. But, on the flipside, his rise from the ashes was being praised. The prodigal son had returned, and Nashville was preparing the feast and the fatted calf. I admired him. I did. But after Danny, it seemed more than foolish to entertain getting involved with someone like him. Look at me thinking that he wanted to get involved with me, but he did track me down, just like he said he would.

  Dang charming cowboys and their midnight promises.

  I tried to scoot past the check-in desk. One of the physical therapist aides, Max, was there, and he unfortunately liked to attach himself to me. He was six years my junior, but that didn’t stop him from asking me out whenever he braved another try. It had been about a month, so I knew we were in for another episode. I had been direct with him and told him I didn’t date coworkers, but he was one of those guys who liked to state statistics, and he knew weird ones like the percentage of people who meet their significant others at work. It was pretty high, and he thought that should change my mind for some reason. Now maybe if he looked like Chris Hemsworth, I would reconsider. But, no, he had this young look about him, and his flippy blonde hair made me want to pat his head and send him running to play outside. I could never take him serious.

  My stealthy moves were all for naught when I heard a knock on my office door. I was going over my one o’clock patient’s chart when Max barged in.

  “Jills, how was lunch?”

  I kind of abhorred when he called me that, but let it be. “Just fine, thank you.” He didn’t need to know I was obsessing about Call’s news.

  “Great, great.” He ran his fingers through that flippy hair of his. “So . . . uh . . . I got these free movie passes for Friday night. Are you interested?”

  When those words came out of his mouth, all I could see was a teenage boy. I had to hold back my laugh, all while coming up with a good excuse to turn him down. I had used family and friend obligations too many times. I did have the perfect excuse beyond not wanting to date him, but the question was if I was brave enough to follow through. I looked into Max’s hopeful eyes. I thought about making something up, but before I knew it my mouth took over. “Sorry, some friends and I are going to the Cole Pendleton concert that night.”

  His childlike eyes widened. “Wow. How did you manage to get tickets to that?”

  “My friend has connections.” So I embellished a little. No one needed to know that I sort of knew Cole and that I was going by his invitation.

  “Do you think she could score another ticket?”

  I had to give him props for his tenacity, but it was hard to keep the annoyance off my face. “No. Listen, I really need to prepare for my next patient. I hope you find someone to use those free passes with.” Like hopefully your future girlfriend. Maybe that’s what I should do, find him a nice, younger woman to date.

  “Maybe next time.” He walked out with shoulders slumped.

  I really needed to find a way to redirect his attention toward something mutually beneficial, but I had more pressing matters, like how I’d lost my head. I needed to text Call and let her know.

  I think I’m going to go on Friday.

  I had a feeling you would. I’ll come over tonight and we’ll pick out what you’re going to wear. You need to ditch the t-shirt and jeans look.

  I looked down at my outfit. It’s what everyone wore at the clinic. Our red company logo t-shirts paired with either jeans or athletic pants. Our hands-on job required us to be in comfortable clothing. It was a perk, especially after feeling like I always had to be dolled up being married to Danny. Every show and outing required certain levels of dressing up, depending on the event. I had more evening gowns than I ever wanted. I should probably give them away or burn them.

  Says the woman who wears workout clothes to work.

  Yes, dear Jillian, but at least my outfits show I have some curves, and I do dress up for Charles when the occasion calls for it.

  I have curves.

  I know, but no one has seen them in ages.

  I get off at six. See you later.

  I love you.

  I know.

  I was more than grateful for that. Her friendship had meant more to me than I could ever express. Even now I needed her to hold my hand for this twist in the plot. I couldn’t believe, after ten months, I was going to see him again. That he remembered me.

  I did my best to focus on my patients that afternoon, especially Mrs. Kendall, who was in for one of her pre-surgery appointments. We were preparing her for knee replacement surgery. This was her first surgery ever and she was nervous about it. Today we were focusing on her arms, which sounds weird, but after surgery, she would be relying more on those arms to help get her in and out of bed, and when she sat down or stood up.

  Mrs. Kendall lost her husband a few months ago, adding to her apprehensions about having surgery. They were married for forty years, and the way she described it made it sound like it was the ideal marriage. It sounded a lot like my parents’ marriage—supportive, protective, fiercely in love, but they each pursued their own goals and dreams. My parents didn’t get along one hundred percent of the time, but they always came together in the end and they were true to each other. It’s why I hadn’t completely shut the door on love. I knew love was hard work and that my parents and the Kendalls didn’t get to where they were by accident, but I also knew that even if you did your best, sometimes it wasn’t enough.

  It was that whole one hundred percent thing. If only one partner was putting in their all, it could never make up for the deficit on the other end. For a long time, I thought it could. I thought if only I could do better than my best, I could save Danny; I could save us. But in the end, I only ended up losing myself, at least for a while. I was blessed to have my family and Call in my life. They were my anchors, life boats, and safety vests, all wrapped up in one. I just wasn’t sure if I was ready to jump back into the water, especially with a charming cowboy with aqua eyes whose kiss had enchanted me.

  ~*~

  On my drive home from work, Cole Pendleton dominated the stations with his songs, contests to win tickets to the sold out concerts, and then there were the interviews. I almost turned off the radio, but I couldn’t resist. Why should I now? For the past several months I’d watched every interview and read any article about him I had found. And I wondered why I couldn’t forget about him?

  One segment in particular caught my attention.

  “Cole, now that your home, tell us what your plans are.”

  “I think I might try and see what that sleeping thing is all about.”

  The host, Angie Freeman, laughed. “Is that all?”

  “No, ma’am. I have a new album in the works and I’m excited to announce that I’m partnering with some of the local substance abuse treatment centers to offer music therapy as a part of their patients’ recovery.”

  “That sounds like quite the undertaking. Can you tell me a little more about the benefits of music therapy?”

  “I would be happy to. It’s important when you are recovering from any type of substance abuse, whether it be alcohol or drugs, that you have an outlet to channel those negative emotions that creep in and may cause you to relapse. Music is a proven way to help release those destructive emotions, whether you are creating it or listening to it.”

  “Do you credit music for your sobriety?”

  “In part, but every day when I look into my son’s eyes, there I find my reason.”

  “That may be one of the sweetest things I
’ve ever heard.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “And your son will be playing at your shows this week?”

  “Yes, ma’am. One of the finest piano players around. And I’m not just saying that because he takes after his old man.”

  She laughed again. “Anything else we can look forward to at the shows?”

  “Well, y’all will just have to come and see for yourselves.”

  I guess I would.

  Chapter Three

  I fidgeted in front of the mirror with Call grinning behind me.

  “You look amazing.”

  I saw a lot more skin than I had in a while. I rubbed my bare shoulders. “I don’t know.”

  Call twisted my hair and pulled it up. “Let’s do your hair up with some romantic curls around your gorgeous face.”

  “We’re not going to the prom.”

  “This is better.”

  “Do you think this dress is too much, or too floral? It kind of screams, ‘please put me in a country music video.’”

  “It’s fantastic. The soft pink goes perfect with your skin tone and the cut says, “Hey buddy, check out these fine legs and rockin’ curves.”

  I rolled my eyes at her. “Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

  “You’re going. End of story. Besides, I loaned Charles a pair of my daddy’s old cowboy boots and who knew an Englishman could be such a sexy cowboy. But, he says he’ll only wear them to the concert. Believe me, it’s worth it to see him in them.”

  “I’m sure you could talk him into wearing them elsewhere.”

  “Probably.” She grinned wickedly. “But you need to do this and I know you want to, even if you won’t admit it.”

  I sighed and took one more look at my reflection. “We better do my hair.”

  “Spoken like a true Southern Belle.”

  I felt like I couldn’t sit still as Call worked her magic. “What if he takes one look at me and laughs?”

  “Will you please look at yourself, and I mean really look at yourself? You don’t need a man to validate you, but no man in his right mind, and do you understand right mind? I’m not talking about Danny. I’m talking about a sane and sober man. That kind of man will take one look at you and wonder where you’ve been all his life.”

  “What if that scares me more than anything?”

  She set the curling iron down on my bathroom countertop before squeezing my shoulders. “Honey, you would be crazy not to be scared, but I think I remember someone telling me once upon a time that I shouldn’t let my past rule my future.” She tapped her finger to her lips. “Who was that?” She grinned. “I think her name began with Jil and ended with lian.”

  “That was easy when it was your life and not mine.” I smirked at her through the mirror.

  “Let’s just go and see what happens. It could be nothing, but at least this way you’ll know.”

  “You’re right.”

  “I know.” She winked.

  I looked at the finished product in my full-length mirror. I bit my lip. “I clean up okay, right?”

  Call stood next to me looking as fabulous as ever in her tight jeans, leopard print heels, and black off-one-shoulder blouse. If we weren’t such good friends, I would probably find her intimidating. “You’re gorgeous. Now grab your bag. Charles will be here any second.”

  I nodded and took one more look. I did feel pretty, but the nerves were overshadowing all other feelings. I kept telling myself I was just going to walk through the meet and greet line and say hi. Each person was only scheduled thirty seconds to a minute with the artist anyway. Maybe enough for a quick picture and that was it. I knew how these things went. I hoped that in that timeframe I could get closure, because really, what else could I expect from all of this?

  Charles, or Beck as I called him, knocked on my door and I jumped. Call rushed out to greet him. I gave her a head start—I knew the kind of greetings they had and I wanted to give them some privacy and keep myself from wishing to have someone kiss me passionately whenever I showed up.

  “We’re done,” Call yelled from my two-story foyer. It echoed through my open house.

  I smiled to myself. I loved those two. They were one more reason to have hope that love was out there waiting to be had. I walked out of my downstairs master suite. Call was right, Beck made a fine looking cowboy, not as fine as the one we were going to see, at least not in my opinion, but he was a handsome man; and they looked like the cover of a magazine together.

  Beck had his arm around her waist and held her close. They were a perfect fit.

  “I like the boots,” I complimented Beck.

  He stared down at them. “The things you do for love.”

  Call kissed his cheek and he was right back to looking at her with adoring eyes.

  “Okay, guys, we better go.”

  They grinned at each other before Beck opened the door for both of us. I had to think for a second before I walked out. Call knew me well and turned around. She took my hand and led me to Beck’s new luxury sedan. He had traded in his sports car so Noah, Call’s teenage brother, had more leg room in the back when they all went out together. If that didn’t spell love, I don’t know what did. I also wondered if he was doing it because he was hoping for children in the somewhat near future.

  Beck, being the true gentleman he was, opened my door for me on the driver’s rear side. He hustled around to open Call’s door on the front passenger side. The full weight of what I was about to do hit me there in the back of the car. My heart began to race and my breathing became heavier. I appreciated my friends not commenting on my obvious altered mental state. Instead, they kept the topic of conversation light; they even turned off the radio because apparently no other artists existed right now in Nashville except Cole Pendleton. I didn’t add much to the conversation. They were still arguing about when and how they would go to London to meet Beck’s parents. He wanted to go as soon as Noah got out of school at the end of May, only four weeks away, but she was pressing for the end of summer so she could purchase the tickets herself.

  In the heat of the discussion, Beck out of frustration asked, “Love, why must you be so stubborn? Can’t you see that everything I have, I want it to be yours?”

  A hush fell over the car. I watched Call as she let those words sink in. He took her hand and didn’t say another word. She on the other hand stared at him. I could almost hear her thoughts. Yes, Call, you have a winner there, I wanted to say out loud, but the love beaming from her misted eyes said she knew.

  “How about I pay you back?” She smiled with every ounce of charm she possessed.

  His only response was to lift up her hand that he held and kiss it.

  I heard wedding bells ringing for those two.

  The Broadway exit appeared sooner than I expected. I began to panic again. In a couple of turns, we would arrive at our destination. Four breaths in, six breaths out. There was no relaxing.

  Call reached back and took my hand. I gladly accepted. How sad was it that I needed it? This was going to be a minute of my life. I would see that what happened ten months ago was an alcohol-induced feeling of euphoria and meant nothing, except in that moment it was the first time I had felt alive in months—the first time I’d felt like me, even if my judgement was slightly altered by the vodka. The tickets were only a courtesy on his part to some poor woman who came onto him that he met on a plane. He was used to it, I was sure. He sure hadn’t hesitated to participate.

  “What am I doing?” I said aloud.

  Beck was turning into the parking garage.

  Call squeezed my hand tighter. “This is going to be great.”

  Easy for her to say. She didn’t make a fool out of herself with a stranger thirty-thousand feet in the air. And could I throw in there that he was a very famous stranger? Not some B-class famous, like my ex-husband, who was lucky he still had a job singing back-up and playing guitar for one of the big Vegas shows.

  “What did his personal assistant say again?
”

  Call turned and faced me. “She just said that Mr. Pendleton would like you to be his guest tonight, and he was looking forward to seeing you again.”

  I felt like Call had to drag me out of the parking garage into the light of early evening. It was a couple of hours before the show began, so the sidewalks weren’t crowded yet. Before we knew it, we were outside the “Mother Church of Country Music,” the Ryman Auditorium. You wouldn’t know by looking at the entrance, which wasn’t part of the original structure, that it was built to be a tabernacle back in the late 1800’s. I loved that the seating was still pews, and the stained glassed windows were gorgeous. There wasn’t any place like it.

  “I think I might throw up.”

  Both Call and Beck looked me over before we headed into the auditorium.

  “Breathe,” Call instructed.

  “You aren’t going mental on us, are you?” Beck asked in that English accent of his. It was nice, but I preferred a man with a Southern drawl.

  “Define mental.”

  They both laughed at me.

  Call dragged me in the door. “His assistant, Francesca, said our passes and tickets would be waiting for us at will call.”

  I could only nod my response. This place brought back a lot of memories. The good kind. The kind that made me ache and scared me half to death. I had thought I knew Danny so well. The last time we were here together, I could have never fathomed the man he was today. The scariest part was his change was swift and all consuming. I shook him out of my head. I was moving on. I had moved on.

  I was afraid, though, of the thoughts of who I might want to move on with. The kind of person I said I never would—a charming cowboy who sang and came with a warning label.

  My thoughts were interrupted by a beautiful middle-aged woman who had the most stunning long, gray hair I had ever seen. She was dressed in a classy dark business suit that fit her persona. She walked with purpose toward Call with her hand outstretched.

  Call welcomed her greeting and they shook hands.

  “Call, I presume?” the powerhouse woman asked.