CHAPTER FOUR
AINSLEY

I pull into the reserved parking space at the bridal shop to wait for Carly and London. I’m twenty minutes early, so I’ve got time to waste. When I swipe the screen on my phone, Nash’s last message pops up. It makes butterflies take flight in my stomach. I’m not even sure why.

I’m sure it meant absolutely nothing.

It’s just a stupid emoji.

These little yellow faces should not have that much power. I flick his message off the screen and decide to pull up social media to check on… nothing. It’s a time suck and I know it, but what else do I have to do? I need a distraction.

It doesn’t take long to see #AmaryllisRocks is trending.

Perfect. That will distract me from Nash. Not.

Why can’t I just have a thing for a normal guy, and not one I see every single time I sign on to the internet?

Against my better judgment I dive in to check out the hashtag and find out Nash has taken it upon himself to make his students’ entire year by assigning them to come up with a song, which Amaryllis Studios will produce as their gift to the graduating class at the end of the year.

This is exactly why it was against my better judgment to scroll this damn hashtag.

Every.

Single.

Thing.

He.

Does.

It’s all just more reason to love him.

I don’t love him.

I meant it’s more reason to love the band.

Whatever.

A tap on my window scares the daylights out of me until I realize it’s Carly, and London is now standing just in front of the entrance with Carter. “C’mon,” Carly yells through the window. “Let’s go get a dress.” She jumps up and down as she motions for me to get out and follow her.

The happily ever after has been a long time coming for her and Adair. He fought it tooth and nail until he finally grew up and admitted how he felt. After that, it was like all the pieces of their lives just fell into place, and as happy as I am for her, it makes me feel even more alone knowing I still don’t have someone to share my random pieces of life with. I shake off my sour grapes as I tuck my phone back in my bag. Hopefully, before she noticed I was searching the hashtag. “Let’s do this!” I say to distract from the fact I was just drooling over images of Nash, which are trending right alongside his big news.

“Sorry, I’m late,” she apologizes. “I had to stop by and drop some paperwork at the office first.” She grits her teeth in a sideways grimace as she walks through the door London and Carter held open for us.

“Don’t worry about it,” London says. “We just got here too.”

“Yeah, no worries.” I wave my hand dismissively in the air. “I’ve been here for a few minutes, but after the day we had at the hospital, it was nice to have a few minutes to just chill.” The floral smell of the bridal shop hits me right in the face as soon as we walk in. “Dang.” 

She snickers and rubs her nose with the back of her hand. “Yeah, it’s a little strong; but this place is supposed to have the best selection in town.” We’re standing inside of a reception area spanning the full length of the building. It’s decked out in white lace and sparkly things, complete with a full row of glass windows and locked doors blocking us from entering the actual shop.

“You know you are marrying a rock star. You could have a custom gown made.”

“I could,” she says, as she rings the bell perched on the counter. “But we’re wanting a simple wedding. Adair wants to use the extra money to invest in our businesses, and I’m not against the idea. I need to focus on getting Not Another Cliché off the ground.” Not Another Cliché is the marketing agency she set up when she thought she was going to rid herself of Adair Miller and his antics forever, instead she wound up leasing office space from his brother, Griffin, and contracting with new talent Adair signed to his management label. As hard as they tried to part ways, they’re drawn to each other.

“I’m so sorry,” a chipper voice from the far end of the room calls out. “Our last appointment just ran a little over. Are you with the Thompson/Miller bridal party?”

“Yes,” Carly says with a slight nod. “I’m Carly Thompson, these are my two bridesmaids—and my ring bearer.” She steps to the side gesturing towards Carter, who is standing beside London.

“Excellent.” She taps her computer screen a few times then slides a digi-pad over to Carly for her signature. “Come right this way,” she offers, opening the doors and leading us toward the back of the shop. It’s much less floral smelling in this part of the building. White lace and pink still drape across everything in sight, but it’s not as overdone as in the lobby area. There’s a large white table against the back wall with computers lined up along it. She directs us to sit down and flips a switch on the wall causing the monitors to come to life. “Ladies, and little gentleman, if you would please look at the designs we have pre-selected and pick which ones stand out to you that will help us make sure we find your perfect wedding style.” She snaps her fingers over her head and a young man dressed in a tux and carrying a silver tray pops out from around the corner. He leaves us what looks like champagne in crystal flutes on the table, and a smaller one for carter. His looks and smells like apple juice. The young man disappears just as quickly as he appeared, and without a word. “If you need anything else, just let me know,” the blonde who showed us in says just before disappearing right behind our extremely stealthy server.

“Psst.” I lean over to whisper in Carly’s ear. “I mean, I’ve never looked for wedding dresses before, but is this a little weird?”

London laughs from her seat, which is just on the other side of Carly. “It’s really weird.”

“It had the highest star rating on Google,” Carly says through a grimace. “Let’s just look and then decide, okay?” She looks at London first and then at me. I nod and spin back around in my chair.

“Sounds like a good idea to me.” Until I scan the first page of ‘pre-selected designs’ and become scarred for life. “Uh, Carly?”

“I know,” she grumbles and takes a sip of the champagne, sitting the flute back down a little harder than necessary. The three of us cringe, with our eyes going wide, waiting for the flute to break. It keeps itself together. Thank goodness. “Keep scrolling.”

“Scrolling,” I reply, dutifully.

London is the first to break and throws her hands up in the air. “Carly, these aren’t even close—”

“I know,” she admits, with a giggle that grows and morphs into a maniacal laugh. “They’re terrible.” She shoves her chair back from the table and stands to leave. We don’t waste time following her. “Let’s just go see what we can find on our own. Maybe I can have it ordered. We don’t have a tight timeframe, or anything.”

“I thought your wi-fi was out until they finish the construction on the new wing.” She told me last week that her condo was being remodeled and the construction crew sliced into the lines while they were at it. They decided to upgrade the connections, instead of just replacing them; but that also meant it would be out until further notice.

She hangs her head and rubs her temples. “Oh! I know. We could just go to the studio. That way we can use the conference room’s computer.”

“The one with the monitor that takes up the whole wall?”

“Life size. That way we can decide which ones we’ll look best in.”

I bob my head back and forth as we step out of the building and back into the parking lot. “Let’s go.”

“Are you coming?” She asks London who is loading Carter into the backseat of their car.

She shakes her head as the seatbelt clicks into place. “No. Griffin is supposed to call, and I don’t want to miss it.”

“You have a cell phone, you know?” Carly says with a know-it-all tone.

She giggles and taps her back pocket. “Got it right here. It’s kind of hard knowing he’s stuck on the other side of the world and can’t get back. I just want to be home when I hear from him, so I can give him my full attention.”

Who could argue with that?

Carly gives her a warm smile and waves. “See you tomorrow.” She slings one arm around me and lays her head on my shoulder. “Guess it’s just us, huh?”

“C’mon.” I gesture toward the cars. “Let’s go find you a dress.”

---

I pull into the parking space beside Carly when we arrive at Amaryllis Studios. We’re directly in front of the door on the side of the building labeled Not Another Cliché. I grab the bag of takeout tacos and salsa we stopped off for on the way here and wait for Carly to turn off the alarm system. “Sheesh. I thought the security was intense at the hospital,” I moan as she unlocks the door.

“There’s several million dollars of recording equipment in here. They don’t take chances.”

That makes sense. I follow her through the hall marked as Studio Alley by neon lights designed to look like an old Route 66 highway sign. “They’ve done a lot of work on it since the last time I was here.” I pause at the bright blue studio. “Nash’s, right?” I ask, pointing towards the door.

She nods and keeps walking. He was picking out the paint samples when I was here last. The same night they were screwing around with the soundproofing and discovered a melody they wanted to write for. The same night I snapped Nash’s profile pic. That memory makes me smile and forget why I’m here until Carly clicks her fingers together at the end of the hall. “Dresses. Tacos. In here.” She flicks her finger toward the door of the conference room.

“Right. My bad.” The takeout bag hits the table with a thud when I sit it down. “Maybe I over ordered,” I admit.

“You can never over order when salsa is involved,” a familiar voice says from just behind me. “What are you two doing here?” Nash asks, as I turn to face him, feeling the heat rising through my cheeks.

Carly scoffs and tosses her hand behind her like she’s throwing something away. “The bridal shop was a little shop of horrors, so we came back here to see what we can find on our own.”

His lips twist into a scowl. “Sorry, it didn’t work out at the shop. Adair was pretty stoked you were picking out your dress tonight.”

Carly grunts in response as she tries to figure out how to get the oversized monitor to turn on. “If he was so invested in the idea, he could’ve shown up.”

I’m caught off-guard by her suggestion and whirl around. I’ve never had a poker face. “Isn’t that against the rules, or something?”

Carly just gives me a deadpan glare. “When have I ever been traditional?”

“That’s a fair point, actually.” I grab a taco out of the bag and start to peel back the paper when I realize Nash is still staring at me, so I reach out, offering it to him. He holds up both hands and shakes his head. “I didn’t mean to intrude on your night. I just saw the lights flicker on as I was driving by and thought I should check it out.”

I nod as I take a bite of my taco, ignoring the tiny shreds of traitor lettuce falling out of my mouth and onto the paper I have positioned just right to catch them. It’s a thing.

“It’s nice to see you, Ainsley.” He flips a switch on the wall and gives me a wink as he mouths Shh! 

The computer Carly’s been fussing with since we got here whirrs to life as the wall-sized monitor flicks on. “Ha! I figured it out.”

I hide my giggle by taking another bite. “Good job,” I say through a mouthful.

She snags a taco from the bag and leans back in the chair across from me and pulls up the first website. “What do you think of that one?”

“It’s nice, but it’s not you. Is it?”

“No.” She clicks through page after page. “Terrible. Awful. Ew.”

“That last one was weird,” I admit.

She lets out a sigh and reaches for the salsa and chips still in the bag. “So, spill.”

“Huh?”

“Back at the bridal shop you said, ‘after the day I’ve had,’ so what’s up?”

I roll my eyes and pretend to be too focused on my dinner to hear a word she’s saying.

“I’ll wait.” She takes a chip and dips it in the salsa without ever taking her eyes off me. The glare is making me want to laugh. It’s like when I was a kid and tried to play a staring game. I was always the first one to break.

“Fine.” I let out a harsh breath. “My sister called. Her five years are up and she’s coming up for consideration for early release. She said she and her attorney are requesting a reentry program.”

“That’s great.”

“Yeah, it is.” I think. “She asked me to get her information on several of them in town.”

“Shouldn’t her attorney do that?”

“You would think, but when I suggested that she got angry and went on a rant for the rest of the phone call until the time ran out.”

“What was she upset about?”

“She said she has to use him because it’s who they assigned to her, and she doesn’t have the money to pay for better representation. She doesn’t trust him is what it all boils down to.” I don’t know if I trust him, either. “I don’t have the money to pump into her defense fund; so, I think she blames me for the whole thing.”

Carly nods and reaches across the table to rest her hand on mine. “I’m here for you, if you need someone to vent to.”

“I might,” I admit. Things are probably going to get worse, instead of easier, as this process moves forward. “I just feel completely out of my depth and I’m not sure how to fix it.”

“Sometimes we can’t fix things as much as we wish we could.” If anyone can understand what I’m going through, it’s Carly. Her brother, Stone, is the exact reason my sister is behind bars. Stone’s been in and out of jail for as long as I’ve known them both, but his money seems to keep him on this side of the prison system. Thinking about this is not how I wanted to spend my night. I swallow hard, forcing the lump in my throat back down with a swig of my soda. “Are there any that don’t look like a cartoon supervillain killed a litter of puppies to make it?”

“I didn’t know I was marrying Cruella Deville,” Adair laughs from the doorway.

Carly clicks the screen off as soon as she sees him standing there, which I don’t think I was supposed to notice. Not traditional, huh? “What are you doing here?” she demands.

“Well,” he draws out while making his way around the table to sit beside Carly, “Nash told me you were here and since your night didn’t go like you planned, I thought maybe I’d see if I could buy you dinner.”

She shoves another bite in her mouth. “You’re too late. I already have a date.”

He makes a puppy dog face and turns to make sure I see the pleading look in his eyes. “Can I steal your date for the night, Ainsley?”

I shrug and grab my bag from the seat next to me. “Who am I to stand in the way of the lovebirds?” I tease and roll my eyes as I make my way through the door. “Have fun,” I call out over my shoulder, as I turn down Studio Alley headed back to my car.

“Shit,” a muffled voice comes from Nash’s studio, which makes me pause long enough to poke my head in through the door to find Nash on his hands and knees underneath the production equipment.

“Need a hand?” I ask, which surprises him, causing him to sit up and smack his head into the base of whatever-the-heck that thing is. My hand shoots up to cover my mouth as I try to stifle the laugh that wants to come rolling out. It doesn’t do any good. “I am so sorry,” I squeak out. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“What?” he looks behind him and points. “That? I needed to give it a good smack to get it to come back to life, anyway.” He reaches over and flips the switch and lights flicker on in response before going back out again just as quickly. “Damn it.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

He pulls his phone from his pocket and swipes a message. “I blew a fuse and I think I shorted out the digital converter.”

I give him a blank stare. At least I know what it’s called now.

“I may have shorted it out trying to push too much through it at once.”

“Can it be fixed?”

He nods. “Probably, but Mick handles the electrical stuff and since our crew is still at home, I’m trying to fix it.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah, I mean things are looking better, but I don’t want to call them in and put anyone at risk if it’s something simple I could do on my own.”

“Which is where the ‘damn it’ comes in?”

He laughs at his own misfortune. “Right. I obviously can’t fix it on my own, so I was waiting on Mick to message me back and tell me how to fix the stupid thing.”

“Did he message you?”

“Yup. He said I’m hopeless and he’d fix it tomorrow since he’s going to be here setting up for the Live feed, anyway.” He shakes his head with a confused look, suddenly taking over his features. “Aren’t you supposed to be picking out dresses with Carly, right now?”

“Oh, that.” I nod and shift from one foot to the other. “Adair somehow found out Carly was here and is taking her out to make up for the horrible bridal shop experience.”

He gives me a wide-eyed grin and grabs me by the hand, leading me out of the studio and into the lobby where there’s a mini fridge with a Property of Travis Miller sticker on the front of it.

“What are you doing?” I ask as he lets my hand go and reaches for the mini door handle. It’s strange how I already miss the warmth of his hand surrounding mine. It’s probably just the ups and downs of the day making me an emotional, and possibly hormonal, basket case.

He grabs a tub of ice cream and passes it back to me. “We’re going to turn a shitty night for the both of us into a much better one. Here,” he says, handing me two spoons as he goes back to rummaging around. “I know he’s got Oreos in here.”

“Check the frozen vegetable bag,” I offer.

He cuts his eyes back to me, but he grabs the bag and unties it. “You’re a genius!”

“Not really,” I say, shaking my head. “No one brings a bag of frozen peas to the office.”

“That is an excellent point,” he says, dumping the cookies into a big bowl and leading me towards the conference room where he once again flips the switch that brings the computer to life. The screen immediately fills the room with its bright light. “What do you feel like watching?”

“What?”

He tosses me the controls and nods toward the screen. “I got the snacks. You pick what we watch,” he says, flopping into a chair at the back of the room and pulling another one back so it’s sitting right beside him. He pats the seat as he sits the bowl of cookies on the coffee stand just to the other side of him.

“You’re not going to get pissed if I get Oreo crumbs on the white leather?” I tease, letting myself sink into the chair next to him.

He scoffs and shoves a cookie in his mouth. “Technically,” he says with a mouthful, “they’re Griffin’s, so we’ll just tell him Travis did it.”

“That sounds believable.” 

He nods as I settle on a show for us to watch.

“Is this one too goofy?”

“Nope. It’s perfect.” He reaches over and hits the play button on the remote I’m holding. “If it’s what you pick, then that’s what we’re watching.”

I lean back as the show starts playing. Is this what it’s supposed to be like? I haven’t been in a real relationship since… ever. He’s watching me out of the corner of his eye. I don’t think he knows I see it, but I do. “What?” I finally ask, letting him know he’s caught red-handed.

“I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head. “I guess I’m just trying to tell if your night has gotten any better, yet.”

“Well…” How honest should I be? “If I had been asked earlier what my idea of a perfect night was, sitting around a conference table sharing a tub of ice cream with a rock star wouldn’t have been on the list of ideas.”

A deflated grunt escapes just as I go to nudge him with my elbow. “It’s on the Perfect Night list now though.”

“I’ll take that.” His cologne fills my nostrils as he reaches one arm around me to grab the second spoon. “And I’ll take some of that, too,” he says, dipping the spoon into the tub I’m holding. “You know, we’re doing our first live performance in months tomorrow. If you aren’t busy…”

I shake my head. “Are you asking if I want to see your performance?”

“I think I’m actually asking you if you want to see me again tomorrow.”

“Hmm…” I tap my finger against my chin, pretending I need to consider his offer. “I would like that,” I admit, leaning back against the chair and trying to calm the nerves rolling in the pit of my stomach.

“Good.”Calling this a perfect night doesn’t even begin to cover it.