Before long, I’m sure I feel every bit as bad as she does.
“Lucky, what do you think of coming with me to New York for Christmas?” I ask suddenly. I’ve been thinking of asking her ever since the night of my last final, but I didn’t want to pressure her to do something I didn’t think she would enjoy very much. But seeing her father and brother and how they treat her—I’m sure it’s the right thing. I know how hard losing a parent is, what it feels like on Christmas morning, how it reminds you of what you can no longer have.
“You’re serious?” she says, her eyes lighting up with what I assume are visions of the tree at Rockefeller Center, or visits to F.A.O. Schwartz.
“Yeah. Why not? It sounds like you need to get out of here, and I can show you where I grew up, all my favorite stuff in the city.” A pinch of worry hits me when I consider how cheap my kind of fun is. I imagine she’s never been in a room as small as my one at Francie’s. But it’s too late now, anyway. The offer is made.
“Okay,” she says, trying on the idea a little, which leads to an adorable, nose-crinkling grin. “Let’s do it. My dad hates New York. We went once, but I was too little to remember.”
“It won’t be fancy. Our place is really small, and—”
“It will be perfect.” She quiets me by placing a finger on my lips. “I just know it.”
22
Adair
Present Day
“This is a terrible idea.” I’d been trying to talk Poppy out of going to the Barrelhouse all day. As usual, I’m losing.
“We’re going to support Kai,” she reminds me, turning the wheel of her Mercedes S-Class hard over for the hairpin turn leading out of the Eaton’s parking garage. “Plus, why would Sterling even be there?”
“Oh, he will be,” I mutter.
The night he admitted what he did, how he made his fortune, the sins he committed, I wondered if I could forgive him. I knew something shady had gone down ever since he showed up with a thick wallet, dropping thousands at charity galas and buying a stake in my family’s company. Maybe I didn’t want to think too much about it. It’s not like I don’t have my own secrets. I’ve made mistakes. But I can’t imagine trying to ruin someone’s life.
We didn’t speak that night after I asked him to take me home. We simply gathered our half-eaten picnic and drove in silence back to Nashville. I didn’t say a word when he dropped me at the Eaton. And since?
For the last week, Sterling has been keeping a low profile. There have been no gifts or flowers delivered to my door. He hasn’t visited my office on a whim. He hasn’t even called.
And somehow that makes everything worse.
“Then I will be your bodyguard,” Poppy promises.
“Fine.” There’s no point arguing now that we’re halfway there, and she’s right. It’s not like we get to see Kai perform in a local bar all the time. Usually, he’s selling out the Staples Center.
“And tomorrow,” she says, “you’re going home to get your clothes.”
“What’s wrong with this?” I ask. I happen to think my yellow floral maxi dress is comfortable and pretty. “It’s not like we’re going somewhere fancy.”
“Um, think about this for a second. Kai Miles is performing in Nashville at a place with no cover charge.”
She’s right. The Barrelhouse will be packed, and if I know anything about Kai’s popularity, people will crowd around on the street outside just to get a free listen. Local news will be there, and I’ll definitely talk with Kai. A picture of me in this dress will probably end up on the cover of tomorrow’s newspaper.
“Are you embarrassed to be seen with me in this dress?” I say it teasingly, but the truth is, even with everything at Windfall, I don’t have a quarter of what Poppy does in my wardrobe. She’s probably secretly mortified.
“What? No,” she stammers, “Well, it’s a little plain is all. You definitely don’t want to be the most-clothed person at a club, you know? Especially one that’s going to be 80 degrees inside.”
“I am plain, Poppy. Plainer than you, anyway.”
“Baloney,” she says brightly, “you’re fabulous. And don’t let anyone tell you any differently. Especially yourself.”
I wish I saw myself as beautifully as Poppy does. Or as Sterling does.
Sterling.
Whenever he comes popping up in my thoughts, I feel paralyzed. I haven’t begun to reconcile the different versions of him. The naïve one I knew before my brother’s wedding. The foolish one who left for the military and wanted to do the right thing—but ended up killing his squad-mates. The vindictive one who came back to ruin me, but couldn’t. The broken one who lost Francie.
They are all Sterling, but none of them is the real Sterling. My Sterling.
And that’s the problem in a nutshell. Sterling may not really be who I thought he was.
When we pull up to the Barrelhouse, it takes us a few minutes to find a parking spot because a crowd has already gathered. Poppy strides straight past everyone waiting in line and right up to the security team. I’m pretty sure that even if we weren’t on the VIP list, she would have no trouble getting in. Not with her toned, brown stomach on display in a champagne sequined crop top, her legs streaming from a tight leather miniskirt down to strappy stilettos. A few people grumble when we pass them, but no one tries to argue. Why would they? She looks like she owns the place. Her inky hair swings around her shoulders as she flashes the guard a sweet smile.
“Poppy Landry and Adair MacLaine.”
“This way.” He holds open the door, running his eyes down us appreciatively.
The Barrelhouse is still nearly empty. A few stagehands are setting up the mic and lighting, with Jack overseeing the process. He turns as we approach, his face breaking into
