After dropping Luke off at the practice facility early this morning, I take a few minutes to find a local coffeeshop on my phone to slip into and get some work done before I meet Mona, Marie, and Becca for lunch. They’re showing me around Nashville this afternoon, but I have to get some words written before I can enjoy the sights.
It’s barely seven in the morning when I settle into a table to write. There are a few people visiting in the corner and a line of three to four people at the counter, while I quickly go through my routine of getting ready to write. My music is set, earbuds adjusted, and notebook’s set up next to my computer, while I wait for my order to be delivered.
Needing to get into the flow with my words, I quickly scan the previous chapter and make a few adjustments here and there to help with editing later. When I get to the point where there are no more words written on the paper, my order’s delivered to my table.
“Here ya go, hun.” An energetic woman who sounds as if she’s been injected with more than her daily dose of caffeine bops to my table. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”
“I’m good, thanks.” I nod in appreciation as I take my drink and breakfast sandwich from her.
I assume she’ll just bop along to another customer as I glance to my laptop. But from the corner of my eye, I see her shift her weight from foot to foot and oddly remain standing next to me. Lifting my head to see what’s keeping her, I notice her face is flushed, and her eyes are wider than when she arrived. What the hell is wrong with her? Why is she just standing there? The place is filling up, and other customers surely need their orders.
“Uh…” I finally break the silence. “Is something wrong?” I ask when curiosity gets the better of me.
“You’re… You’re Charlotte Ann…” she says, barely above a whisper.
Flattered and shocked to be recognized outside of Washington, I reply, “I am.”
“Ohmigod.” Her voice raises slightly, but not enough for others to notice her enthusiasm. “I’m a huge fan. Are you sittin’ down to write, here in our café?”
I smile graciously, not wanting to make a big deal. “That’s the plan.” I eye my laptop, hoping she’ll take the hint. But she just stares in my direction and bites on her lower lip. She lives near Nashville; surely, she’s seen famous people before?
I glance around and am relieved to not be drawing further attention.
“Wow, this is amazing.” She stares for a moment longer then shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts. “This may sound crazy, but I actually have your latest book in my bag. Would it be too much to have you sign it?”
Holy shit, a true fan out in the wild. I’ve never had someone approach me out of the blue before and ask for my signature. This is surreal. I stare at her and revel in my thoughts for longer than I should before her raised eyebrows draw my attention. Shit. Don’t be a dumbass, Dani. Answer her. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Just bring it out when you have a chance.”
“Ohmigosh!” the young waitress practically squeals, as her long, brown ponytail swishes in both directions from her body bouncing with excitement.
“Jennifer,” a woman from behind the counter demands her attention. “I need you to take this order out.”
Before Jennifer returns to work, she whispers, “Thank you so much. I’ll bring it out on my next break.”
I sigh, relieved she’s not making a huge deal out of this. “I’ll be here.”
When she leaves, I do my best to get back to writing, but it’s of little use. I can’t for the life of me get my words to flow onto the page. I type a sentence or two, realize they’re utter shit, erase them, then try again.
Before I know it, thirty minutes have gone by, and I barely have a paragraph written. This fucking sucks, I internally groan. I have a bit of time before my next book is due, but each day, I need to meet the goals I’ve set for myself, or I’m fucked when my deadline approaches. In the past week or two, my brain’s been shit for getting words written. What is wrong with me? This never happens.
Glancing at my watch, I realize I still have an hour before I’m to meet Luke’s family. I slowly inhale to clear my mind, but it feels as if a million thoughts are exploding at once, and not one of them will help me write this scene. Closing my eyes, I do my best to focus on my breathing for a minute or two, to re-center my focus.
Of course, Jennifer uses this time to approach me again. “Is this a bad time?” she whispers.
Opening my eyes, I see she’s nervous, but she has no need to be. “No.” I might as well visit with her. To cover for my rudeness, I add, “I’m just stuck in a scene. Sorry. Please, take a seat.”
“No worries. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be inside your head,” Jennifer states in awe.
Rolling my eyes at the plethora of thoughts that are jumbled at the moment. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, trust me. I’m a hot mess at the moment,” I admit.
“Are you working on Rowan and Callie’s story?” she probes.
Yep, she’s a true fan. And relief washes through me. For some reason, it’s easier to talk with people who really like my books. She must follow me on social media, because I’ve only mentioned their names a few times.
“Yes, I’m writing a scene that’ll give away some major plot points if we discuss it too much, but for some reason, they’re deciding to be difficult at the moment,” I grumble.
“Well, if they’re anything like your other characters, I’m sure their story will unfold as time goes on. Just give yourself time and relax. From the sounds of it, that’s how your process works, right?”
I state the obvious. “I take it you’re in my fan group.”
Jennifer’s smile widens. “Yeah, I have been for years. I don’t think I’ve introduced myself. I’m Jennifer.” She reaches out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person, Charlotte.”
Now that she says her name, and I look closer at her, I recognize her as being one of my fans from the beginning. “Wow, Jennifer, it’s a pleasure to meet you, too. Have you always lived around Nashville?”
“Yep, born and raised. My cousin went to school with Luke Leighton. I’m so happy the two of you are together.” Seriously, the world keeps getting smaller and smaller.
At first, I think it might be awkward to talk with Jennifer, but I quickly find that isn’t the case. She tells me she’s finishing her bachelor’s at Middle Tennessee State University in Murfreesboro this spring. We discuss what she’ll do after graduation, since her major is in communications and minor is marketing. We also discuss our love for all things in the book industry. Our conversation quickly turns to our favorite authors. We both wholeheartedly agree we love books that have amazing characters, combustible chemistry, and enough suspense to keep us burning through the pages.
When her break is over, she asks, “Do you mind taking a selfie with me? This just totally made my day.”
“Of course not!” I notice we get some looks from surrounding customers, but I try not to think about it. I pull out my phone as well and after we’re done, I post in my reader’s group, it was so nice to meet her and wish her the best of luck in school.
By the time I settle into writing some more, my alarm signals, telling me it’s time to leave. Shit. I don’t want to be late to meet his family. They probably already think I’m a freak for leaving so early to get some writing done. Well, I attempted to write, but no such luck. I quickly gather my things and head to the car. I guess I’ll have to make it up later. Who needs sleep, right?
When I arrive, the girls are dressed and waiting to play tour guide. They let me drop off my things then rush me out to the car. I’d arrived earlier than expected, but Mona insists we get started if we’re to see everything I want to today. After finding a place to park near the Country Music Hall of Fame, Becca suggests we walk down Broadway first. I’m in awe of the amount of people here on a weekday. As we walk along the street, music can be heard everywhere. It has a magical feel as we bop along between the shops and bars. When the music hits us, we stop into several bars along the way to enjoy the atmosphere.
When Marie suggests we stop for some lunch, we all pile into a crowded bar and sit at one of the high-top tables to enjoy the performance on stage. The band takes requests and from what I can tell, they play just about every genre out there. When we walked in, they were playing an old Merle Haggard song, then they switched it up to Luke Bryan.
Becca calls out, “Play some Taylor Swift,” as a joke and sure enough, they break into “Shake it off,” like it was something they play daily. It’s impressive how they can switch gears so fast.
Mona, Marie, and Becca are easy to get along with. The fear I’d had is put to rest, and I quickly find myself swaying to the music and singing along to the songs I know in my mind. The atmosphere’s something I’ve never experienced. The crowd in the bar is filled with humor, and everyone just wants to have a good time.
After we finish our lunch, Mona suggests, “The Grand Ole’ Opry is on the next block, let’s go in there.”
We quickly purchase our tickets, and my heart races as I eagerly wait to see the museum and the stage itself. I’ve watched performances over the years, and I’m eager to see what it really looks like.
“Oh my goodness, can you believe Dolly Parton is that tiny?” Marie points out a petite costume display Dolly once wore. She’s much shorter and skinnier than I could have ever imagined. Down to her beautifully designed shoes, Dolly Parton has class and style.
When we walk into the auditorium itself for the Opry stage, I’m blown away at how quaint it feels. From television, you can never tell how big the hall is, but it’s much smaller than I expect. The acoustics must be amazing to see a live show.
Mona settles in beside me and mentions, “I remember a time when Luke and Marie would put on shows in our living room.”
“Really?” I ask in disbelief. “Luke never mentioned anything about being musical.”
“That’s only because I made him,” Marie pipes in. “He plays the guitar better than me, but obviously, he loved football more.”
Surely, I’ve heard her wrong. “Luke plays the guitar?” I’ve never seen one at his house.
Marie nods. “Yeah, you should have him play sometime. He’s got a great voice, too.”
Why did I not know this? Is there anything the man can’t do?
“I think I still have his old guitar at the house.” Mona looks as if she’s trying to remember something. “I’m not sure he’s played much since college. He claims he hasn’t had the time.”
“Now, I’m intrigued,” I admit.
“Oh, make sure you have him play ‘Lovebug’ by George Strait. It was his ‘go-to’ song to get the ladies back in the day.” Becca giggles.
“I doubt he had trouble getting girls,” I deadpan. But inside, I’m curious.
“Do you remember the time he entered that talent show contest and played that for the girl he’d been crushing on?” Becca asks.
“Ohmigod, yes!” Marie gushes. “The poor boy thought he’d impress her, but she only had eyes for Bobby Jacobs.”
Marie adds, “I felt so bad for him. But I have to say, he got a lot of attention from others after that. Then when he made the team as a varsity starter his freshman year, all the girls came out of the woodwork, including that Sarah. I was glad to see he was over her by then. I don’t remember him playing guitar much after football took over his life.”
I’m dying to know more, but Becca changes the subject by pointing out another display on the far side of the room. and we rush off to see it. I can’t wait to confront Luke about his musical abilities when I see him next.
By the time we get back to Luke’s parents, I’m burnt out. My feet ache, and I know more about country music than I ever expected. I’ve always had a wide taste for music, but I didn’t know how influential it was until I went to the Country Music Hall of Fame and my walk through Nashville. I could’ve spent days there, rather than mere hours.
My favorite part about the day was getting to know tidbits about Luke and his family. I was filled in on many family stories as they reminisced throughout the day. Even Becca had funny stories to share and felt no need to hold back her thoughts on Luke throughout the day.
When I walk into his parents’ living room, my energy returns at the sight of Luke and his dad, watching what looks like a game tape. My pulse races, and I pick up my pace to close the distance between us.
“There you are,” Luke announces as he turns off the television and stands to wrap me in a hug. “I hope you’re still talking to me after hearing God knows what from these two.” He gestures to Marie and Becca, who suddenly look as if they’re the cat who’s eaten the canary and won’t make eye contact with anyone.
“Oh, it wasn’t that bad,” I offer.
“Are you tired, or would you be up for a little tour from me?” Luke’s eyes fill with delight and even if I have to drag myself, I know without a doubt, I’d follow him anywhere.