“So, why’d you introduce yourself as Hayes to me?”
I scratch my eyebrow with my thumb, unsettled by her question. Rather than answer, I turn the tables and ask, “Why’d you tell me your name was Annabelle?”
“Because it is. I go by Anna, though.” She pulls away and pauses, letting out a heavy exhale. “But the night we met… That night I didn’t want to be Anna. I didn’t want to be a widow or a single mom or a woman who was lost and sad and crumpling. I just wanted to be someone else for a little while.”
A group of loud, drunken college students stumble past, jostling us and snapping me back to reality. We’re in the middle of a crowded sidewalk, having an emotional conversation, which is exactly the kind of scene I should be avoiding. All it would take is one photo, and our private moment would become tomorrow’s headline. I can imagine the tabloids running wild with speculation, twisting the image of me holding a crying woman into some lurid story.
“Hey, can we go somewhere to talk? Somewhere more private?” Annabelle looks hesitant. “Just talking, I promise. Nothing more.”
After a few moments, she nods.
“My truck is this way.” Taking her hand, I guide her to the parking garage where I parked my truck. How quickly things have changed. Ten minutes ago, when I walked into the bar, I planned to enjoy a night out with the boys, but now, celebrating our new record contract is the farthest thing from my mind.
Opening the door for her, I settle her into the passenger seat. Her movements are slow and unsteady, so I lean into the cab of the truck and reach across her torso to buckle the seat belt around her waist. It’d be so easy to kiss her right now, but I resist the impulse.
She’s not Annabelle tonight.
She’s Anna. A widow, a mother, and a woman who may still be a little lost despite the intervening year.
I pull the truck onto the street, glancing over at Annabelle. “My condo isn’t far. Or we could find a quiet coffee shop, somewhere off the beaten path. There’s one not too far away.”
“Your condo is fine, Hayes.” Her eyes meet mine briefly before she whispers, “I’m sorry I held back so much from you that night. I lied by omission. I should have been more forthright about my situation.”
“You owed me nothing, Annabelle. We were strangers who had a one-night stand.” Her recoil is almost imperceptible, but I still notice it, making me instantly regret my words. “Let me rephrase. It started out as a one-night stand, but… our night together ended up meaning a lot to me.” I reach across the truck’s center console to grasp her chilled hand in mine. “Obviously, I left out some relevant details regarding my life, too. I think we both enjoyed leaving reality behind for a night.”
Leading Annabelle into the lobby of my building, we enter my private elevator and ascend toward the penthouse. Walking her through the front foyer, I invite Annabelle to sit down in the living room. “Want a drink? I’ve got red wine and tequila. Or just about anything else,” I offer.
Cocking her head to the left, a faint smile crosses her lips. “You remember what I drank that night?”
“Yankee, I remember everything about that night,” I confess. “Every word, every look, every move you made is branded onto my heart.” Sinking down next to her on the couch, I reach out to tuck a tendril of her hair behind her ear. My fingers linger on her cheek.
“Likewise,” she murmurs, her response making my heart beat a little faster.
She won’t meet my eyes for more than a second before her gaze drops again. It’s such a stark contrast to the spunky woman I met at Tank’s.
I want Annabelle back. But do I have the patience to get to know Anna, to peel back her layers and find the Annabelle she hides within herself?
I place a finger under her chin and tip her face heavenward. “Hey, what’s running through your mind? Why are you so nervous right now? It’s just me. The guy you met a year ago and called an asshole. Multiple times, I might add.” My smirk is contagious, and Annabelle sends me a quick grin.
“You were kind of an asshole.”
“Agreed. I was. Until I wasn’t.”
She turns her body toward mine on the couch. “You might be the same guy I met at Tank’s, but I’m not the same woman. You spent the night with Annabelle, a woman who doesn’t exist. Not really, anyway. But as Anna, I have so much baggage. I can’t be the type of woman who randomly gets drunk at a motel bar on a Tuesday and shacks up with some guy she just met. I have responsibilities—children to raise, bills to pay, and a job to work. And you’re… you. You’re hot and rich and famous and…free. Your world isnothinglike mine, Hayes.”
“What I’m hearing is that you think I’m hot.” My smirk grows. “Don’t worry, I think you’re hot, too.”
“You would latch onto that part of the point I was making.” She tries to smother a smile, but her dimples pop, giving her away. “Hayes, I’m serious.”
My smile fades as I reply, “Free isn't all it's cracked up to be, Annabelle." She has no idea how lonely it feels when there's no one in the world who belongs to you.
She tilts her head, watching me.
"Look, I understand what you’re saying, but I’m not the same person either. I don’t have kids, no, but I have responsibilities and commitments. Just because our worlds are different doesn’t mean theycan’t complement one another.” When she doesn’t respond, I lean forward with my elbows on my knees and turn my head to meet her stare, grateful that she’s finally holding my gaze. “You want that drink now? Red wine?”
“Red wine sounds great. Thanks, Hayes.”
I return a minute later with a glass of pinot noir and a beer. “Is it okay if I still call you Annabelle? I’ve been referring to you as Annabelle in my head for over a year, but if you prefer Anna, I can switch to calling you that.”
