Avery rolled over and groaned. Why was the room spinning? Last night’s events filled in and came to an abrupt stop when the words, “You could kiss me. I’d let you,” crashed through her brain.
Oh my god.
Not only had she let her guard down with Matt, but she’d also gotten drunk and propositioned him. Okay, she was being melodramatic. It’s not like she invited him in and threw him down on the bed.
But still. She threw her arm across her eyes. He’d said no.
Which was more embarrassing? Asking him or getting turned down?
The door to her bedroom flew open, and Wyatt jumped on her bed. She had to swallow hard to keep last night’s food down. “Tía! Pancakes and flowers!”
She tried to shake off the haze and translate toddler-speak. “Abuela made pancakes?”
“No. Mommy.”
Was she still dreaming? “Your mom made pancakes?”
Wyatt nodded in that full-body way that only toddlers managed. “Get up!” He pulled on her arm.
She rubbed her eyes. Yikes. She’d slept with her contacts in. “Wyatt, baby, go tell your mommy I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Okay,” he said brightly, hopping down from the bed and running down the hallway, screaming, “Mommy!”
Avery grabbed her head. He really needed to stop that. She sat up and checked in with her stomach. “How about some pancakes?” she asked it. It didn’t send anything spiraling upwards. She took that as a good sign.
She padded into her ensuite and without looking in the mirror—she didn’t dare—she peeled the contacts out and pulled a brush through her tangle of snarls. Once she’d located her glasses, she walked tentatively into the kitchen, blinking at the bright light, and slipped onto a barstool.
Jess slid a plate in front of her.
“Eat!” Wyatt said, grabbing her arm, his sticky fingers leaving a trail of maple syrup behind.
“Inside voice, baby,” she said to the child, but she couldn’t help smiling at his exuberance. She could use a bit of that energy right now.
“Momma said you got drunk with Matt Taylor last night.”
She looked at her sister over the top of her glasses. Good lord. Was nothing sacred in this house?
“Tía drunk. Tía drunk. Drunk. Dunk. Bunk,” Wyatt sang.
Avery laughed. “Is that why you made pancakes?”
“Well, they are good hangover food, but no. I made them to say thank you for taking Momma to her appointment.”
That’s right, that was just yesterday. Why did it feel like she’d lived a hundred years since then?
“How’d the interview go?” She prepared herself for her sister’s litany of excuses. Hopefully, she’d gone to the interview.
Jess ran around the island and circled Avery’s shoulders and squeezed. Her second hug in as many days. “Sissy! I got the job! I start on Monday! And I even have a daycare plan worked out!”
“Momma?” Avery knew she shouldn’t be so cynical, but all previous data pointed to it.
“For the first week, yes. But then he’s enrolled at the Montessori on Douglas.”
Avery looked up, full fork hanging in the air. “That’s great, Jess. I’m very proud of you.” And she realized it was the truth.
“You are?” her sister asked, a tremble in her voice.
She grabbed her sister’s arms and squeezed her back. “Very proud.”
“We can talk about rent,” Jess said, bouncing back to the stove to flip a pancake.
“How about we wait until my head stops pounding?”
Jess laughed and shook her head. “I still can’t believe you got drunk. It’s so unlike you. Maybe yesterday was opposite day. I got a job and you got drunk.”
“Maybe that’s it.” But she thought it had less to do with that and more to do with a tall, super sexy, blond musician.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Jess said, pushing a vase of daisies toward Avery. “These came for you.”
“You didn’t need to spend your money on flowers, Jess. The pancakes were enough.”
“I didn’t,” she said, smirking over her shoulder.
Avery’s brow furrowed. If not Jess, then who? She pulled the card from the floral pick. “Hope you’re not feeling too bad this morning. Not sure if these are still your favorites. Looking forward to seeing you tonight. M.”
“What’s happening tonight?” Jess asked, slapping another pancake on her plate.
Avery glared at her sister. “You read the card?”
Jess shrugged. “Wanted to make sure they weren’t from some crazy fan.”
“Sure.” Avery rolled her eyes. “And what would you have done if they were?”
“Left them outside.”
“It’s only signed ‘M.’”
“But it mentions your hangover.”
She stuffed her mouth with pancakes and let it go. “He mentioned some Storyhill thing tonight. I think I said yes.”
“Damn straight you said yes.”
“It’s not that easy, Jess.”
Jess poured more batter onto the griddle. “You overcomplicate everything, Sissy.”
“And you don’t think things through.”
“Are you two fighting again?” Isabel asked, emerging from the hallway. “Or should I say ‘still?’”
“Abuela! Eat pancakes!” Wyatt yelled, making them all laugh.
“I’m pretty sure we can all agree that the pancakes are delicious. Right, Sissy?” Jessica asked Avery.
“Right.”
“Good,” Isabel said, sliding onto the stool on the opposite side of Wyatt. “You feeling okay?” she asked Avery quietly.
Avery nodded. “Considering.”
Isabel slid a fork through her pancake and glanced at Avery from the corner of her eye. “It was nice of Matt to bring you home.”
Avery let out a low groan, dropping her head to her chest. “Momma, don’t start.”
“What?” Isabel said, feigning innocence, a small smile dancing at the corners of her lips.
Avery spun to face her mother. “It was your idea that I thank him for covering yesterday’s show.”
Isabel shrugged and her smile grew. “I was thinking a text or maybe a phone call. Never imagined you’d end up wrapped in his arms on our front step.”
Jess turned, her eyes popping wide. “You were ‘wrapped’ in his arms, Sissy? With Momma watching?”
Avery snorted. “He was holding me up, Jess. Nothing romantic—or sexy—about it.” Though she’d be lying if she didn’t admit it felt good to be in his arms again. Safe. Warm. Protected. And something, she realized, that she’d missed every day for the past nine years.
“Sure, Sissy,” Jess said, giving Avery an exaggerated wink. “Whatever you say.”
Avery rolled her eyes. “Look what you started, Momma,” she said, waving her hand at Jess.
“Nope,” her mother said, shaking her head. “That was all you. You started it—and now you’re going to do the next right thing.”
Avery choked on a bite of pancake. “Momma,” she hissed through clenched teeth. She was clear on her mother’s meaning, but she didn’t need Jess getting clear on it, too.
“Yeah,” Jess said, waggling her eyebrows. “The next right step is to get his arms around you again. And see where it leads.”
A relieved sigh oozed out of Avery. Jess hadn’t read into Momma’s comment. And that’s the way it was going to stay.
When the time came to get ready for the party, Avery stood in front of her closet, chewing on a bright blue nail. What should she wear? Should she even go?
How was she supposed to face Matt after nearly begging him to kiss her?
“See?” she said, pacing in front of her closet. “This is why inviting Matt Taylor to co-host was a bad idea.” She shouldn’t go to the party. She pulled out her favorite sweatshirt and yoga pants, but stopped.
She was Avery-fucking-Lind. She would not be afraid. She had the opportunity to spend the evening with country singers, a Grammy award-winning songwriter, and other industry people. This was just networking.
Except it wasn’t.
Her heart slammed against her ribcage. Impending panic attack. She laid back on the bed and stroked her fingers between her breasts, reciting the mantra that calmed her.
A knock resounded through her door. “Yes?” She’d told her family that the anxiety was better. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this.
“Sissy? Can I come in?”
“I’m getting ready. Not dressed. Can it wait?”
“Then my timing is perfect. I pulled something from my closet that I think will look beautiful on you. You can’t go on your first date with Mr. Taylor, after all these years, and not look absolutely fabulous.”
“It’s not a date!” She wondered if she was telling herself or her sister. “But come in.” She wiped away the perspiration that had accumulated at the base of her neck.
“What are you doing?” her sister asked, scanning her prone position from head to toe.
“And why, if this isn’t a date, do you have your best bra and panties on?” Jessica tried holding back a smirk but couldn’t do it. She sat down next to Avery on the bed. “And you shaved your legs?” she asked even more smugly, running a hand down Avery’s smooth calf.
Avery rolled over and buried her face in the duvet. “I don’t know,” she said, voice muffled. “I don’t know,” she repeated.
“Roll over,” Jessica demanded. When Avery had done so, she asked, “Is this what it’s like dealing with me? I can see why it’s so exhausting. Now, sit up and act like the Amy-Lynn we all know and love—balls to the walls, take no prisoners.”
Avery sat up and looked at the dress Jess was holding up. It was short, black, had a deep, plunging neckline, and was totally outside of Avery’s comfort zone. “What’s wrong with my clothes?” she said, motioning toward her closet.
Jess gave her a look that said, I really don’t need to say this, do I?
“It’s basically all work wear.”
Avery scoffed. “I have dresses.”
Jess snorted. “Designed for Victorian ladies.”
“That’s not fair,” Avery said, tromping over to her closet and pulling out her one sequined top. “I have this.”
“Which I haven’t seen you wear in years.” Jess wiggled the dress hanger. “Just try it on.”
Avery sighed. “Fine.” She wrenched the dress from Jess and slid it on over her head. It fit perfectly and clung just enough to show off her figure, but not so much she’d be uncomfortable.
“Whoa, Sissy,” Jess whistled. “If I had a figure like that, I’d never stop showing it off.”
Avery rolled her eyes. “This is your dress.”
“My body has changed since having Wyatt.”
Avery started pulling her hair up, but Jess stopped her. “Leave it down. And how about I do your make-up?”
“I can do my make-up.”
Jess’s expression softened. “Let me do it, like old times.”
“Okay,” Avery said. “And you might as well find me some shoes, too.”
Jessica clapped her hands together and squealed.
Was this all it took to make their relationship easier? She really could use one less stressful thing in her life right now.
The doorbell rang just as Jessica swiped a final coat of mascara on Avery’s lashes—false lashes, Jess had insisted. She felt like a dress-up doll, but it made Jess so happy. And isn’t that why she did all the things she did? To make her family happy?
“Amy-Lynn,” her mother called from the bottom of the stairs, “Matt is here.”
Avery turned to look in the mirror, but her sister stopped her. “Don’t keep him waiting.”
“But I need to see . . .”
“You look perfect.”
Avery scooted closer to the mirror. “It makes me uneasy that you won’t let me look. What did you do to me?”
Jess smiled and lightly patted Avery’s cheek. “Relax, you’re still 92 percent professional, stuffy Avery.”
“What’s the other eight percent?”
“Jessica McWilliams magic.”
Avery snorted.
“Now go,” Jess said, pushing her out the door.
Avery really wanted a mirror. What if Jess wasn’t telling the truth?
She didn’t have to worry long. She descended the stairs and Matt turned to look at her. His eyes widened, and his mouth fell open before he caught himself. “You look beautiful. I mean, you always do, but this is different.”
“Different bad?” She nervously smoothed her hands down the front of the dress. Why did she care? Avery Lind didn’t need anyone’s approval. “If this isn’t right for the party, I can go upstairs and change.”
“It’s perfect,” he said, reaching for her hand and threading her fingers through his.
She looked from their intertwined hands to her mother and her sister and quickly pulled her hand free. Her mother wore a soft, enigmatic expression, but Jess’s expression read I told you so.
“You obviously met Momma last night,” she said, trying to move attention away from his touch. “And you remember Jess.”
“Yes,” he said, pulling his attention away from Avery. “Nice to see you again, Jessica.”
Jess smiled like a Cheshire cat. “You’re welcome here anytime, Matt.”
Avery cleared her throat. “Still my house, baby sister.”
“Momma taught us to be hospitable, big sister. Didn’t you, Momma?”
Isabel smirked and arched a single eyebrow at Avery. “That I did. That I did.”
Before Avery could say anything further, a streak of blue ran past her and wrapped his arms around Matt’s knees. “Boy!” the little boy hollered. They really needed to talk to him about using his inside voice.
Matt laughed softly and mussed the little boy’s head. “And this must be Wyatt,” he said, looking at Jess. “Your auntie was telling me all about you last night.”
“Boy stay. Play,” Wyatt said with a stomp.
Jess pulled him away from Matt. “He has plenty of friends, but I’m afraid he doesn’t have a lot of contact with adult boys,” she explained.
Matt looked up from the child and met Avery’s eyes. “Really?” he said. “Three beautiful women in this house and he doesn’t see a lot of men, huh?” The question was meant for all of them, but it was directed at Avery.
“There it is,” Isabel said. “The famous Matt Taylor charm. Glad to see it hasn’t gone away.”
“No, ma’am,” Matt said, finally moving his intense gaze off Avery. “It’s served me well. Can’t go messing with a proven winner.” He smiled at Isabel, and Avery could have sworn her mother blushed a little.
Matt bent to get eye level with her nephew. “Your auntie and I already have a playdate planned. How about I come back and play with you another time?”
“Tomorrow,” Wyatt said, crossing his little arms, demanding agreement.
Matt looked up at Avery. “That’s up to your auntie.”
“Tía,” Wyatt said, pulling on the hem of her shorter-than-she-liked dress. “Tomorrow?”
“We’ll see Wyatt,” she said, shooting Matt a look that she hoped communicated, don’t make him promises you can’t keep.
Matt stood to his full height and picked the little boy up. Seeing him hold Wyatt made her gut twist. What if they’d never broken up?
No. No. No. She’d made her choices. Crafted her life to perfection. Well, professional perfection. She would not play the ‘what if’ game.
Avery patted her nephew’s back. “Wyatt, say goodbye to Mr. Matt.”
“Bye,” the little boy said, and placed a big, wet kiss on Matt’s cheek.
Jess motioned for Wyatt to come to her. “I’m sorry, he never does that. He’s usually shy around strangers.”
“Maybe he senses I’m not really a stranger,” Matt said, his attention shifting back to Avery.
“We really need to go,” Avery said, without knowing if that was the truth or not. She grabbed her handbag and the door handle. “Right, Matt?”
“Yes, Grace has a thing about punctuality.”
Jess leaned in and whispered, “You’re wearing my dress. Maybe act a little more like Jess tonight and a little less like Amy-Lynn.”
Avery screwed up her lips, rolled her eyes, gave Jess’s shoulder a nudge, and stepped out onto the porch.
“We won’t wait up,” Jess yelled after them.
Matt opened the truck door for Amy-Lynn and took her hand, helping her onto the elevated seat. Her dress slipped up, exposing the creamy skin of her thighs, and a current shot through him, gaining speed as it hurtled down his spine, settling low. He’d once known her body better than he’d known his own, and if the tightening of his pants was any indication, his body was on board to learn the curves of her body all over again.
He slid into the driver’s side and started the ignition.
“Sorry about Jess. And her . . . her . . . insinuations.”
Matt bit back a smile. She was so confident at work. He couldn’t help liking this more vulnerable side of her. “What was she insinuating?”
“Nothing,” she grumbled.
“Why apologize if it’s nothing?”
She flicked him on the shoulder. “You’re maddening.”
He sobered. “Are you still embarrassed about being seen with me?”
“Embarrassed?” She swiveled in her seat to face him and damn if that dress didn’t slide up even higher. If it inched up just a little more, he’d know exactly what she was wearing under it. Could his heart take it? Doubtful.
“What does that mean?” she asked, snapping his attention back to her comments about Jessica.
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and kept his attention on the road. He didn’t want to see her expression. “Clearly I’ve never been good enough for you.”
Her skin squeaked against the leather seat, and he felt the weight of her gaze on him. “That is not true, and you know it.”
He signaled left, and he knew this was not the time or place for this discussion—in less than five minutes they’d be at the condo Grace and Andrew were renting until they found a second home in Nashville—but he couldn’t force himself to let it go.
“That’s the real reason you broke up with me, isn’t it? I didn’t fit into your grand plan.”
He glanced her direction. She was looking at him as if he had a shark head.
“Is that honestly what you think?”
He lifted a single shoulder. “Why else?”
She twisted her hands in her lap and looked out the passenger side window. “I told you why,” she whispered.
He shouldn’t push. He knew that. But the truth was within his reach. Maybe she’d finally tell him? “Remind me.”
“I didn’t want a partner who was going to be gone all the time, like my daddy. I saw what it did to my family.” Her words were even, but her body had gone stiff, and the color drained from her face.
He turned into the surface lot surrounding Andrew and Grace’s condo, pulled into the first open parking spot, and killed the engine.
“That hadn’t mattered for the six years we were together, and then one day it did? I might not be the sharpest crayon in the box, but I’m a long way from stupid, Mac. I deserve the real explanation, or at least why you suddenly changed your mind about my career choice.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she said, rubbing her fingers over the depression in her collarbone while her telltale blush colored the column of her neck.
No. He wouldn’t cause a panic attack, especially before meeting his friends. This was supposed to be a fun night. A night to help her forget about all her worries for a few hours.
There was more to the story than she’d tell him, but he didn’t need to dig it out right now.
He grabbed her fingers and uncurled them, rubbing the webbing between her thumb and forefinger in a way that calmed her—or had nine years ago.
“I’m sorry,” he said, keeping pressure on her fingers. “We—well, I—need to talk about this, but it doesn’t have to be tonight. Is there anything else I can do to help with the anxiety?”
“Anxiety?” she said, clearly trying to mask what was going on.
He pushed a curl behind her ear. “I know the signs. Mac. Is it still as bad as ever?”
She dropped her head and her eyes shuttered closed. “No,” she whispered.
“But it’s still an issue?”
She nodded without looking up.
He placed a single finger under her chin and tilted her head up. “Look at me,” he said.
She finally opened her eyes. “I’m so embarrassed.”
He pulled her into a hug over the center console. Her body stiffened, but she didn’t pull away. He’d take that as a win. He could feel her pulse throbbing in her neck. What had he read about anxiety attacks? Keep calm. Speak in short sentences. Help her stay grounded. “There is absolutely no reason to be embarrassed. This doesn’t define you.”
She reached for the hollow spot in her clavicle. Again.
“Want to do the 3-3-3 rule?”
Her eyes found his. “How do you remember that?” she whispered.
“I love you,” he said. Her eyes flashed again. “I mean, I loved you. I learned everything I could about anxiety.”
“Thank you. But I think I’m okay.”
“I can take you home.”
She looked out the window in the direction they came from and then back to him. “No. I committed to this, and I will do it. You told me you wanted to meet the woman I’d become. Turnabout is fair play.”
He smiled. “You think my friends are going to be a window into my world?”
“Yep. And the people most likely to tell embarrassing stories I can rub in your face over the next nine shows.”
“Nine shows,” he repeated, “is that all that’s left?”
“Yep, thirty-six hours and you’ll be free of me.”
Something reached out and squeezed his heart. Thirty-six hours to show his bandmates he had skills. Thirty-six hours to get the answers he wanted—no, needed. And thirty-six hours to figure out, all over again, how to live without her.
“Well, thirty-six show hours plus this party.”
She smiled. “There’s that.”
“We better get started, then.”
Her smile drooped. “Is there anything I need to know before we go in?”
She smoothed her hands down her dress and damn if he didn’t watch her hands, wanting to do the same thing himself. So many emotions, but apparently lust trumped everything else going on.
“Don’t worry, Mac. These people have no expectations, they are a laid back, welcoming group. Being yourself is all they expect.”