CHAPTER SIX
CARLY

“So, you’re telling me you spent the entire night with Adair Miller, and nothing happened?” Ainsley sips from her coffee mug, judging me from across my kitchen island.

“Yep,” I nod. “That pretty much sums it up.”

She purses her lips together and raises an eyebrow. “You’re not telling me something.”

“What?” My voice wasn’t supposed to squeak like that. Maybe she didn’t notice.

She lets out a huge laugh before taking another sip of her cinnamon spiced coffee.

So much for her not noticing.

“You have tells,” she says. “That’s one of them. Spill.” She leans across the counter resting her face in both hands with eyes as wide as a kid in a candy store. “I have to be at work at nine. Come on.”

Sigh. “We might have kissed.”

“What?” She squeals throwing both hands on top of her head like she’s trying to keep her brain from exploding. “How could you not have told me this, until now?”

“Because he freaked out and took off running like a scared little boy after it happened.” I shrug and start a fresh brew. “It’s nothing. We were both just caught up in the moment of the wedding. It almost felt like old times—”

She bobs her head from one side to the other. “From what you’ve told me, that’s kind of exactly like old times right?”

“Uh-huh.” I scowl at my chubby snowman coffee mug. It’s the same one he bought me while we were snowed in at the lodge a few years ago. I use it every day, even though it hurts when I look at it.

“Ahem,” she clears her throat and glares at me through narrowed eyelids. “With your history that kiss wasn’t nothing. Random wedding kisses happen,” she says, waving her hand in the air beside her, “just like with Nash, but a kiss between you and Adair… that’s anything but nothing.”

If I didn’t already know that then— “Wait. What did you just say?”

“A kiss between you and Adair isn’t just a kiss. You know it. I know it. He knows it,” she says with confidence as she peeks at me over the rim of her coffee mug.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. It’s your turn to spill.”

Her face turns red as she chokes on her sip of coffee. She shakes her head. “I… uh—”

“And I was supposed to tell you everything but you’re going to hold out on me?”

“I don’t know, Carly.” She buries her face in her hands trying to hide the growing blush and excitement. “I don’t want to jinx anything. I haven’t had the best of luck with men,” she admits.

“That makes two of us,” I raise my mug. “To wounded hearts everywhere.”

“May they heal without causing too much more damage in the process,” she adds, giggling then chugs what’s left in the bottom of the mug. “What are you going to do about a job? After next week, you’re kind of out in the cold aren’t you?”

Yep. “You’d think that after all this time proving myself with The Machine that they’d offer to keep me on, but nope. As soon as Amaryllis is gone, so am I.”

“If you ever want to change careers, you know I’ll put in a good word for you at the hospital.”

“I appreciate it, but I’m not sure bedside manner is my best quality. I tend to make things worse.”

She laughs and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “It’s just because you give people the brutal truth, sometimes we all need to hear it even if we might not want to.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I think I’m going to talk to Nigel today about another idea I’ve had. This might just be the kick in the seat of the pants I needed.”

She nods as she heads toward the door. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“When you see Nash today, please don’t let him know that I told you. I don’t want him thinking I’m actually still swooning over it.”

“Trust me. I know that feeling all too well.”

A sad smile takes over her face. “I hope he comes around. I know you love him and he loves you too. It’s so obvious, it’s painful to watch.”

“Thanks,” I deadpan, shooing her out the door and letting it close behind her.

“Love you too,” she calls out sarcastically through the door.

“Love you,” I say, sticking my tongue out even though she can’t see me. Why does she have to be right?

---

The door to Amaryllis Studios closes with a thud behind me. It still feels weird to think that in less than two weeks, I will probably never walk through these doors again. It’s almost too much for me to process, making my lungs feel like they’re collapsing inside of me. I need this—a fresh start.

It’s time to wipe my slate clean of any trace of Adair Miller. The only way to do that is to make a name for myself in this business and I can’t do that if I’m stuck to them like glue. I swallow my nerves in a hard gulp and head straight for the conference room where I know everyone except Griffin will be, since he’s still on his honeymoon, going over the details of their next and final video with The Machine.

“Are we really picking out the video extras without Griffin?” Adair’s voice carries over the chatter between Nash and Travis. Maybe it’s because I’m so queued into him, or maybe it’s just his overbearing nature, but his is always the only voice I hear in a crowded room.

Stop that. I twist my hair up into a knot on the top of my head, reaching across the conference table I grab a pen out of the center and jab it through the bun to hold it in place. “Couldn’t we send him the favorites and let him weigh in when he can?”

“Dudette,” Travis’s mouth drops, “did you have a mid-life crisis last night?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not even in the mood today, Trav.” Yes, I might have bought a box of purple hair color after Adair mentioned I had gone back to my natural hair color. Yes, it might have been because he said he liked it. It might also have something to do with me trying to break free of the hold that man has on me. “I just went back to my natural color for the wedding.” I shrug. “Wedding’s over. No big deal.”

Adair leans over letting the smell of his cologne consume me. Jerk. “I think it looks great on you,” he says with a gentle smile I’m not used to seeing from him. “Travis is an idiot.” He throws what’s left of a chocolate iced donut at his brother’s head and pops him right on the nose with it.

I try not to laugh and utterly fail. “We still love you Travis, even if you are a pain in the a—”

The phone rings in the main lobby, which causes Travis to hop up and run to grab it. “Amaryllis Studios,” he says with a fake smile plastered on his face. I shake my head and go back to studying the headshots they have strewn across the table.

“This one.” I point to one who looks like she could be the next social media breakout. “She’ll trend well and get more views, which means more likes and shares.”

Nash and Adair nod. “Don’t you even need to know what kind of song it’s going to be?”

I shrug and shake my head. “Not really, but out of curiosity…” I wait as they both exchange glances trying to decide which one gets to tell me the breaking news. “Is it that bad?”

“So,” Nash begins with his tone shifting from conversational to radio announcer, “The Machine is requiring us to release the eloquently titled Getting Off.” He slides the headshots closer to me so I can give my input. “If you wouldn’t mind helping us find the right, uh, images for the message we’re supposed to convey here,” he says through a snicker.

“Is it—”

“Yes,” Adair interrupts. “It is exactly as cliché and awful as it sounds.”

I can’t hold it in anymore. I laugh loud enough that it catches Travis’s attention from the lobby. He peeks around the corner, still holding the phone up to his ear. “It’s that bad,” he whispers.

“Why are you guys willing to put up with this?” I don’t get it. “It’s nowhere near your brand.”

Adair leans back in his chair and sips on his black coffee. “It’s a concession we’re willing to make to be released from our contract early.” He gestures waving his hand around to take in the studio. “It was time to set up our own label and do things on our own.”

“Well, I can definitely understand that.” I choke as I try to swallow the lump forming in my throat.

Adair slides me a bottle of water from the center of the table. “You okay?”

I nod as I take a sip from the bottle. “Fine.”

“Truthfully,” Nash says, looking up from the headshots with a fish-eating grin on his face, “I don’t care who’s in the video. I’m just going to be watching Griff’s face when he has to sing that stupid chorus.” His guffaw is loud enough it makes me jump in my seat, but I have to admit the thought of poor Griffin having to sing these lyrics is something I didn’t know I needed in my life.

“I can’t believe he’s willing to go through with it,” I admit.

Adair snickers, trying to cover it with his hand in front of his mouth. “He’s definitely not happy about it, but Amaryllis Records is his baby after all. He’d do anything to make sure the label and the studios come to life.” Adair studies the headshots a little more closely than I was prepared to handle. Stop. There’s nothing to be jealous over, since there’s literally nothing happening between us. “I kind of like this one’s style,” he says, sliding it toward Nash and then over to me. “What do you think?”

Nope.

Do not take the bait, I tell myself.

Travis bounces back into the conference room and stops at the opposite end of the table with his arms held out to both sides of him. “What am I even here for? You guys make all the decisions without me.”

Ring. The phone interrupts his whine-fest.

“I’ll just go grab that, since I have nothing else to do here.” He stomps back through the open door and back to the reception desk where he puts on his sing-song voice to answer the ringing phone line.

Nash lets out a low groan. “That kid is going to put me in an early grave.” He pushes aside three of the images. “These are the ones I want to have Nigel set up auditions for. Add yours to the mix, we’ll tell Travis to pick one, and we’ll tell Nigel we’re ready. Griffin can have the day off since he’s supposed to be celebrating and all.”

“Celebrating may not be the right term,” Adair snorts.

I jab him in the ribs with my elbow, which makes him laugh harder. “You should be the one looking at these,” he admits, pushing them all over to me. “I have very singular taste anyway.” I’m sure that was supposed to be charming, but it went right through me as my eyes focus on an all too familiar face in the mix.

“You mean, singular, like this one?” I flick the picture around and let it slide across the white tabletop. It keeps sliding until it lands in Adair’s lap. “I’ve seen her coming out of your dressing room at more than a couple of shows.”

“What?” He jumps up and nearly dumps his coffee all over him. “You’ve got it all wrong.”

“Do I?” I push myself away from the table, so I can leave before I let this conversation go any further.

Nash holds one hand out blocking me from going through the open doorway. “Actually, Car—”

Without giving him time to finish his noble defense of his younger brother, I hold my hand up to stop him. “When you see Nigel, please tell him I’m waiting to talk to him.”

“Carly, wait,” Adair’s words reach me the same time his hand wraps around my arm and spins me around to face him. I pull my arm out of his grip and take a step back to put some much-needed space between us.

“Don’t.” I reach up and cover his mouth with my hand, which make his eyebrows pinch together. “I am literally incapable of handling anymore drama or lies today. It’s been a long week and the last twenty-four hours have been some of the worst I’ve had in a very long time. So, please. I’m asking you to stop pushing before it goes too far.”

He nods, but his eyes betray him. I can see how deep that stung. I hate knowing I hurt him, but it had to be said. He keeps his eyes trained on me, a fact I try to ignore as I turn to face Travis. “I can’t do this with your brother all day, so I’m going to be in my office. Please let me know if Nigel calls or shows up here today.”

“Excuse me,” Adair grumbles from behind me. “Did you just refer to me as his brother?”

I’m not going to respond. If I do then this is all just going to keep escalating instead of burning itself out like it should.

“I have a name, you know.” He pouts like Travis anytime he gets told he can’t have seconds for dinner.

I’m still not going to respond, no matter how hard it is to deny that tone in his voice.

He leans in and whispers in my ear close enough a shudder takes over from the warmth of his breath on my skin. “You didn’t mind saying my name on the dance floor.”

“All right,” I spin around on my heel and put both palms in his chest pushing him back. “That’s too far. We both let things go farther than they should have at the wedding. I was willing to write it off as you being too wrapped up in your own emotions to think straight, and me being a fool when it comes to you, but maybe it was just you being the selfish egomaniac you really are.”

His jaw drops as Travis glances at me nervously from the corner of his eye and points at the phone. “It’s Nigel,” he whispers.

“Give me that.” I yank the phone from Travis’s hand. “Nigel, did you get my proposal last night?”

“Hello, Carly,” Nigel’s voice comes through the receiver. “I did.”

I turn back to look Adair in the eyes while I say this. “I need to rescind that offer. Effective next Friday, I will no longer be under contract with The Machine.”

“That’s right.”

“Then effective next Friday, I resign from working with Amaryllis as well.”

“Are you sure?” He sounds as uncertain as I felt this morning, but I’ve never been more confident of anything than I am of the fact that I need to leave Adair Miller in my past.

“I’m certain.” I offer the phone back to Travis, which he readily accepts.

He taps the phone. “Great,” he says with a huff as he puts the phone back in its place. “He hung up. I really wanted to tell him about the idea I had for the new album.”

“I’m sorry, Trav.”

He shrugs. “It’s not your fault. Maybe I just need to show them all what I’m made of.”

“Maybe we both do,” I say, turning to find Adair glowering behind me.

“Resignation?” He demands an answer to the question we’ve both left unspoken for way too long.

I go to answer, but decide it’s better left unsaid. His footsteps echo in the hallway as he follows me toward my office. I stop in front of my door, turning to face him. “Please just—”

“Carly,” he whispers in a tone of defeat, “please don’t do this.”

“I have to.” I push the door open just enough to let myself through, blocking him from following me. “It’s the best for both of us,” I say, letting the door close between us.