CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ADAIR

It’s been less than forty-eight hours since I was in her apartment and she told me to walk away. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since she told me the same thing at the courthouse. At first, I wanted to be furious and just let my heartache win. That’s kind of become my specialty over the years, but I couldn’t do it then and I can’t do it now.

Not this time.

All I’ve ever wanted out of life comes right down to her.

There’s no reason for her to trust me.

Not yet.

If we’re ever going to get anywhere, we have to start over… I have to start over.

This is my shot-in-the-dark, but I’m going to take it.

The alarm chirps inside Amaryllis Studios to announce someone has just walked through the door. Nash peeks his head out of the conference room and nods when he realizes it’s me then goes back to whatever Zoom meeting he’s conducting in there.

I take a deep breath, stepping into what we’ve all decided to call Studio Alley, the hallway with Carly’s office at the end of it. Travis is at his usual spot behind the production console in his bright green studio. “I still don’t know why you chose this color, man,” I say, poking my head inside the doorway.

“It’s the color of money,” he says matter-of-factly. The only time he’s not bouncing around like a squirrel chasing an acorn is when he’s focused on producing a new track.

I make a gag face shoving my finger down my throat. “It’s straight out of the eighties.”

“So am I.” He holds his arms out wide with a goofy grin. “It’s perfect.”

“Whatever,” I drop my voice to a whisper. “I’m going to talk to Carly.”

He drags a hand down his face. “Will you please just tell her the truth and stop dancing around it?”

“I got pretty good at dancing before Griffin’s wedding.” I spin on one foot and attempt to do the moonwalk.

“You do realize we only told you that you were getting better to save your inflated ego, right?” he deadpans.

Sigh. I make a face and toss my hand over my shoulder dismissing him as I take a deep breath and continue making my way to Carly’s office. I pause at her door long enough to catch my breath. It doesn’t work. Each breath just leaves me feeling like my chest is caving in. The piercing pain is almost more than I can take. Okay, one… two… three. Pushing the door open, I take a step inside her office where her new executive assistant, a brunette with a sweet smile, is stationed right in front of the door.

“Welcome to Not Another Cliché, Mister Miller.” She tucks her head down, I assume to hide the rose color creeping across her cheeks. Poor girl. She should’ve picked another day to start. Having your boss’s ex-boyfriend show up to win her back is probably not the best way to start off at a brand-new job. “Miss Thompson is waiting for a client now. Shall I tell her you stopped by?” she asks.

Here goes nothing… “Ahem,” I clear my throat. “I believe I am her next appointment,” I stammer.

“Uh, let me…” She flips through the notes on her desk and clicks through something, I assume it must be the scheduling app, on her computer screen. “Give me just one moment, sir.” She grabs the phone and whispers into the handset. “That’s what he says,” she says under her breath. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Right this way, Mister Miller.” She leads me around a temporary wall that’s been constructed separating Carly’s office from the entry. “Miss Thompson, your ten am appointment is here.”

Carly’s already irritated. If looks could kill… yikes. “Thank you, Mira. Please hold my calls while Mister Miller is here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she nods and turns on her heel.

“Thanks,” I grit my teeth and take the seat in front of Carly’s desk.

“I was supposed to be meeting with someone to discuss handling accounts for a brand-new rock band poised to become the female version of Amaryllis within the next five years,” she says leaning back in her chair and interlacing her fingers. That’s another of her nervous habits. She’s had that one for years. The first time I noticed it was when we had our initial meeting with the label about signing us. We wouldn’t sign unless they brought her on to manage our accounts for us, so she was there with us. “Why are you the person sitting here?” she asks. “Is this your way of trying to sabotage my business? Keeping me busy focused on you and everything Amaryllis again, so I can’t move on and stand on my own feet?”

What? No. This isn’t going like I planned at all. “You know, we really need to get you an outside entrance, so your clients don’t have to go through Studio Alley to get here.”

“Is this all just a joke to you, Adair?”

“Not at all.” I study the layout of her office space. “I actually think we could get a door cut in right here,” I say, hopping out of my chair and walking over to the large picture window. “You could still keep large windows on either side to the let the light in.”

“I like to have natural light when I’m working,” she admits hesitantly.

“I know,” I say, still pretending to study the layout of the room.

“How do you—” She rubs just underneath her eyes with both hands.

“I’ll talk to Griffin about adding that door tonight at dinner.”

She shakes her head. “I appreciate it, but I don’t need a door. I need my client. The one I thought was coming to discuss a contract today.”

I reach my hand out across her desk. “Hi. I’m Adair Miller, I’d like to talk to you about representing my artists.”

“I was so excited to finally have something that was mine.” She cups her hands around her face as she lets out an exasperated sigh. “Something that didn’t revolve around you, or Stone.”

“Everything I do revolves around you, Carly.” I pull the memory card from my pocket and lay it in front of her on the desk. “Take a look. You’ll see.”

She toys with it between her fingers before finally popping it in to see what it holds. Her eyes change from frustrated to confused as she studies the contents. “What am I looking at, Adair?”

“The women who’ve been shuffling through my door before and after shows—”

“Now’s probably not the best time to bring them up.”

“Hear me out,” I say, holding up both hands in surrender. “They’ve been potential clients. I never corrected anyone for what they said about me, because honestly I didn’t think I cared what people thought.”

She narrows her eyes at me.

“Then I realized I care what you think, so I wanted to tell you the truth.”

“And this is the truth?” She asks holding up the tablet she’s using to look through the files.

I nod. “These are the newly signed artists to Amaryllis Records.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “You’ll recognize a few of them.” It’s now or never to lay it all out on the line. “I’ve watched my brothers building their own business for a while now, and I wanted to build something for myself.”

She nods. “I can definitely understand that.”

“There’s one problem with that though.”

“What?” she asks.

“I can’t build anything for myself because everything I do centers around you, so while Griffin was setting up his studio, Nash was setting up his music academy, Travis was building his reputation as a producer, I was stuck circling the drain because I couldn’t find anything I wanted to do that didn’t involve you. Then I finally figured it out.”

Her lips curl up in a cute smirk. “You wanted to manage artists?”

“No.” I grab her hand and hold it tight in mine as I look in her eyes. “I didn’t want to build anything just for me, because I want to build something for both of us; without you there is no me.”

“I’m not trying to be difficult here,” she uses both hands to push her chair away from the desk, “I just don’t… I don’t understand.”

“Come with me,” I offer my hand as I stand up, tugging my keys out of my pocket. “I’ll clear everything up on the way there.”

“Where?”

“Uh-uh.” I shake my head. “You’ll find out if you come with me,” I say feeling the smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth. Please, say yes.

“Fine.” She grabs her bag from a red lip shaped hook hanging on the wall. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

“I really hope not,” I admit, leading her by the hand through the door to her office.

Mira stands up as we go past her desk. “Have a good day, ma’am. I’ll forward your calls to voicemail for you.”

“Thank you,” Carly says. She tugs on my hand pulling us both to a stop in the doorway. “Just call me Carly, Mira. I’m not as awful as I seemed this morning. I promise. It’s just this one,” she jabs her thumb toward me, “he brings out the worst in me sometimes,” she says the last bit with a roll of her eyes.

Mira giggles and nods. “Yes, ma’am—I mean, Carly. Thank you.”

She offers a sweet smile to Mira before closing the door to Not Another Cliché and I make a mental note to remember to talk to Griffin about getting her an actual entrance. She deserves to have a real office, not a makeshift in the back of our studios.

She’s silent as we make our way to the car, but as the door closes, she finally breaks. “Where are we going?” she asks, clicking her seatbelt into place.

“I’m still not telling you,” I tease with a wink.

Her face turns red. At least I know I still have an effect on her. That’s enough for now. I might be able to pull this off after all. The gearshift clicks into place, as I back out of the parking space, I pop open the glove compartment and pull a red velvet pouch out and hand it to her. “Here. This will help clear a few things up.”

“What is it?” Her fingers work at the bow tied around the top until she finally wiggles it free opening it up to find another small memory card. “Really?” She glares at me with a frown holding the tiny piece of plastic in her hand.

I snicker and try to hide it by wiping my hand over my mouth. “Just put it in.”

“Fine.” She sighs as she puts the card into her phone tapping the screen to open the folder. “What am I going to find in this one?”

“You’ll see.” And hopefully it will all make sense once she does. I can’t help but watch her form the corner of my eye as she scrolls through the images and videos saved to the card.

“They’re all of me,” she says.

“Every single one of them.”

“Why?”

“The other day, you said you didn’t think I noticed you.” I tap the screen on her phone pulling up my favorite picture of her. She’s focused on her work behind the scenes at one of our last shows with The Machine. Her eyes are full of fire and determination, but her face is warm and gentle as she’s watching Deacon playing with one of Griffin’s guitars on the steps leading to the stage. “I always have, even in the rare moments like this one where you let yourself be vulnerable. You’ve always had my full attention.”

She balks as she flips the screen to another image of her. They’re all of her.

“I could’ve done a lot more to be the person you deserved in your life, but I’m willing to work every day for the rest of my life to be that person if you’ll just give me one more second chance.”

She doesn’t answer. That’s okay. It takes time to change someone’s mind about you. I’m not about to give up trying though.

I slide the car into park just in front a small spot hidden away in the middle of downtown Tulsa, but it’s also the only place that symbolizes everything Carly Thompson is to me. “Do you remember the night you found me at the bar after Griffin’s wedding?”

She groans. “How could I forget?”

“Good,” I say, pushing my door open and jogging over to hers. This time I’m not terrified to open her door. I’m excited and feel like my life is just beginning. “I want to show you something.”

“What is it?” she asks with visible confusion written on her face. “The Center of the Universe?”

I nod and reach for her hand. “I came here and waited for Travis to pick me up that night.”

“You could’ve waited at my place.”

“I would have, but you needed space that night.” I wrap one arm around her pulling her closer to me. “This is the place where I realized I could have finally made the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my life, and that’s saying a lot because I’ve made some pretty stupid choices.”

She doesn’t argue. I’m right and I know it. I’ve been an idiot.

“Travis, now please.” I drop to my knee as the song we danced to twice the night of Griffin’s wedding plays from a system he’s got set up behind the buildings on either side of the small park.

“He’s here?” she asks letting her glance dart from side to side and peering over my shoulder. “I don’t see anyone.”

“They’re all here.”

“Why?”

“Okay, guys. Now.” I drop to my knees in the middle of the tiny garden area with her dark green eyes staring down at me. Griffin, London, and Carter come into view wearing black t-shirts with bright neon purple letters on them S-A-Y, while Travis, Nash, and Ainsley step out from behind the building where Travis has his sound equipment set up wearing matching shirts that say Y-E-S.

“Carly,” I try to hide the squeak in my voice as my nerves get the better of me. “I know I’ve been an insufferable idiot. Will you please do me the honor of calling me your idiot, till death do us part?”

She lets out a nervous giggle and my heart breaks into a million pieces as she looks away from me. She’s going to tell me no.

“Yes!” she finally says dropping to her knees in front of me and cupping my face in her hands. She pulls my lips to hers in a soft, sweet kiss. I’ve waited for this moment my entire life and now I can finally have and hold Carly Thompson for the rest of our lives.

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