I’ll bring the wine.
ME
See you then!
I guess I’m heading back to Nashville today to celebrate my girl. When we landed in LA, the pilot gave me his personal cell phone number, so now I pull it up and request a flight from Teterboro this afternoon, then I ask Allie to line up a room at the hotel while I pack.
My eyes catch on the gold-tipped roses in a vase on the counter of my New York condo. Grant got me the first one for Christmas the year we met. After that, they arrived every anniversary and I didn’t have the heart to send them back. Each one was a different color specific to the year it was released. I couldn’t admit it to him, but I love them so much, each oneproviding a reminder that all of it was real. That neither of us forgot how much we once loved each other.
Once?The inner voice taunts me.
Shaking that voice off, I hurry around the room, packing my things so I can make it to Gabby’s for wine night. I’d never miss a night with my girls, even if it means being close to the man who I’m not ready to face yet but can’t seem to stop thinking about.
“Welcome back, Ms. Baker,” the concierge greets me when I step up to the reception desk in the lobby of the Nashville Baker Hotel.
“Thank you.” Already, I feel more at home than I did in my own apartment in New York. There’s something about this place that sticks with me.
“Here are your keys. Do you need help with your bags?”
I may need to find a permanent residence in Nashville, but it’s so hard to leave the hospitality and convenience of the hotel.
“I’ve got it,” I tell him. Since I left my larger bags here, I only have Grant’s carry-on suitcase and my work bag.
He offers me a wide smile. “Let me know if you need anything. Also, I was told to give you this in case you wanted to go anywhere.” He slides a paper ticket across the marble top.
“What’s this?” I ask, examining the piece of paper. “Valet voucher” is printed across the front and my name is written on the bottom in Grant’s concise script.
“Mr. Davenport requested it. I was told to tell you to talk to him if you had any questions.”
Of course, he said that. I roll my eyes. He’s had me pegged from the beginning, so he knows I’m avoiding him, and this is a piece of bait he’s hoping will break the ice. It’s also frustratingly considerate.
“Have a good day.” I take the ticket and my room key,navigating to the elevator. My steps falter when I see the room number printed on the back is the same as the one I had before.
What are the chances?
Once in the room, I know this wasn’t by chance at all. Grant left everything as it was in my room. When he said I could leave the rest of my stuff here, I assumed he would have someone pack it up for me and take it up to the penthouse, but all my clothes still hang in the closet and everything else is in its place. I can tell he had room service clean the room while I’ve been away and even restocked the mini fridge and kitchenette.
The little ways he shows he cares mean the most. It makes me want to stop icing him out.
ME
Thank you for keeping the room for me.
Don’t Text The Devil
Welcome home.
Home. Can a hotel room be home? Or is he saying welcome home because it’s where he is? I don’t have time to dissect all the hidden meanings of his words, but I do have time to change his name in my phone.
Clicking on his contact card, I delete the words I wrote years ago. Truth is, he’s never been the devil. Even when he could’ve been, he was the furthest thing from it. It was easier to brand him as the devil—a symbol of the greatest temptation and forbidden fruit—than to appreciate all the ways he put me first. During his darkest hour, he chose me and what I needed. He let me leave. He loved me in spite of it. He still showing me his love for me.
I quickly change into my comfy clothes to wear to Gabby’s house and repack an overnight bag just in case we have too much to drink and I need to spend the night.
I leave the hotel room with the valet ticket in hand, curiouswhat car he left for me to drive and how I’m going to explain it to the girls when I pull in.
Handing the ticket over to the valet, I watch him cross the circular drive to the VIP parking area and open the door of a brand new black Mercedes Benz. I gape at it as the valet drives it to where I’m standing.
Did Grant buy a new car just for me to drive?
