CHAPTER EIGHT
Nash
“Mom, hi! Is everything okay? I wasn’t expecting to hear from you and Dad until tomorrow at the earliest.”
Okay, so I was sounding like a parent to my parent, but the moment Mom’s number flashed on my phone, I’d been concerned. It was their thirty-fourth anniversary trip — a dream safari in Africa. Before they left, Mom told me that she and Dad were stowing their phones away for the entire week and not to expect a call until the weekend.
Had something bad happened?
Mom just laughed. “Oh, Nash, honey. You’ll make a terrific father someday, worrywart.”
I heaved out a breath, then was slightly offended. “Can’t a son worry about his parents without being labeled?”
She laughed again, a full-on laugh that turned people’s heads wherever she went. A laugh that could only belong to one person… Luna Kline Levington. “Do I need to come on over there and pull your hiney outta that safe space?”
I rolled my eyes. She was a mess. “Seriously, everything okay? Dad didn’t get eaten by a lion or anything, did he?”
That laugh again. “I’m the only one takin’ a bite out of your daddy. I just missed ya, sweetheart. Wanted to hear your voice, so I snuck out of the tent and called.”
I scratched my chin. “Did you listen to your voicemail?”
“Nah, but I saw where ya done called and all, so I hoped my sweet boy might be awake. Everythin’ all right, honey?”
She sounded so happy, I didn’t want to screw that up with news about my run-in with my grandfather. Luckily, I hadn’t been so pissed on Tuesday that I’d spilled the whole story on her voicemail. “Yeah. It’s all good. Just wanting to make sure all is well on your side of the world.”
“Mmm… Nash, baby, what aren’t ya tellin’ me?”
Mothers. How in the hell did they know everything?
“Seriously, it’s all good. We’ll talk when you get back.”
“Nash, baby. I—”
“I met someone,” I blurted, knowing it might just about be the only thing that could draw her attention from her current course of questioning.
“You did? Well, then, sweetheart, tell me everythin’. Every single detail. Well, except those details.” That laugh again, as big as the universe.
“Actually, there’s not much to tell except that I met her while I was running at the park. She was chasing down a purse thief, and I helped her tackle him.”
“You got to be kiddin’ me? Is she a cop? Was she ridin’ one of those Central Park horses? That’s really special because—”
It was my turn to laugh. “No, she’s a yoga instructor. Some—”
“Well, now that makes a lot more sense.”
I ignored her. “Anyway, she was teaching a class and some idiot knocked down an old woman and stole her purse. Journey took out after him—”
“Journey? I like that name. Is it a family name? I don’t believe I’ve ever heard that before. What’s her last name? Is she from around here or—”
“Mom! I barely know her.”
Slapping a hand over my eyes, I leaned my head back on the chair. Women and their questions. And my mother was the worst. If she didn’t have such a pure voice, she should’ve been an FBI interrogator. People would confess just to shut her up.
“Sorry, honey. It’s just excitin’ that you met someone you like enough to tell your mama about. I usually learn about ‘em in the tabloids.”
She wasn’t wrong.
“This one is different. Special. And I’ve already got everything arranged. We’ll go into the theater through the back, away from any press that might be hanging outside. I’ve got backstage passes so she can meet the cast and—”
“Cast of what?”
“Wicked.”
“Brrr. Winged monkeys and me don’t mix. Did I ever tell ya that I had nightmares as a little girl about those things? I’m telling ya, I was expectin’ a yellow brick road, not angry flyin’ apes. And that witch! She—”
I laughed. “Mom, can I talk please?”
I pulled the phone away from my ear to save it from exploding from the giggle that followed. “Of course. Sorry, baby doll. I just get excited, ya know.”
That was one of the things I loved about her so much. Her pure joy about everything in the world. Mom was a lemons-into-lemonade kind of woman, even if you couldn’t always tell from her achy-breaky song lyrics.
“Anyway, I’m going to be careful with the press because I don’t want to scare her away the first night.”
“That’s usin’ your head. Whatcha plannin’ on doin’ after Wicked? Now, if you like this girl, you don’t need to be wicked with her on the first night either, if you know what I mean.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Half of Africa knows what you mean right now, Mom.”
She guffawed, loud enough that the other half heard her too. “But I’m serious. Be a gentleman if you like her. Are you takin’ her to dinner? Dancin’? Are ya gonna ask her out again?”
“Mom! It’s the first date. To keep everything on the downlo, I was going to have Grant’s chef whip us up—”
“Grant? You’re plannin’ on takin’ your date to Grant’s place?”
Um. Shit.
“Well, it’s kinda my place too for a while.”
There was at least three seconds of blessed silence. Then, “Why in the heck are you stayin’ there?”
“It’s a long story, and I’ll tell you all about it when you get back.”
Another bout of silence, five seconds at least. “Was there a fire at your place?”
She wasn’t going to let this go. “No.”
“Did another girl claim squatter’s rights? I swear, I’ll kick her butt. You didn’t do nothin’ so stupid like write her a check like Grant does, did you? I swear, that boy—”
I laughed, pressing the heel of my hand in my eye. “No. Nothing like that.”
“Then what? Tell me. You know it’ll drive me plumb crazy if you don’t ease my mind.”
She was right. And I really did want to talk to her about the big blowup. It had been weighing heavily on my mind. “Just a fight with Grandfather. He wants me to live my life his way. I refused. He kicked me out.” That was nutshell enough.
Mom growled. “That highfalutin asshole. I hope ya went ahead and gave him a good swift kick in his gold-plated ass before you left.” She growled again. “That man. He—”
“Did you have a thing with Granddad before you met Dad?”
There, I said it. The question that had been weighing on my mind all week.
She hooted, making me pull the phone away again. But this time, I thought the laughter sounded forced. “Did he say that, the old coot?”
“No, but I couldn’t help but wonder why he hates you so much.”
The laughter didn’t just die down, it disappeared. “Well, honey. To answer your question. We didn’t have a fling but it wasn’t from the damn bastard’s lack of tryin’.”
I knew it!
“Did he hurt you?”
More silence.
“Mom?”
She sighed, a long exhale that went on for a long time. “Not like I think you’re thinkin’. Not physically. Let’s just say he’s been threatenin’ people for a long time.”
Anger churned in my stomach.
“Mom, he said he’d take both mine and Dad’s inheritance if I didn’t marry this woman he’s selected. When I told him no, he kicked me out. So my decision doesn’t just affect me. It affects Dad too. I need to tell him.”
She snorted. “Honey, you don’t worry your sweet head about it. Your daddy and me will get along just fine if that ornery old coot cuts us all off. Your daddy is a smart man, and he’s been plannin’ for something like this for years.”
The vice around my gut loosened a little. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. And even if he hadn’t, I think I can float us for a day or two.”
I smiled. Mom’s net worth on her own was just a little under half a billion dollars, and she still pulled in over ten million dollars in royalties every single year without lifting a finger.
“I know you can. I just hate that my actions affect you both, especially Dad. He doesn’t deserve to be punished because of me.”
“Honey, I just hate that you have an asshole for a grandfather. You deserve better than that.”
“Thanks for not letting me grow up like him.”
She hooted. “I’d be spankin’ your bottom all across Tennessee if you acted like that for a single minute. So, you stayin’ with Grant until when?”
I looked around the living area of the second-floor guest suite in Grant’s apartment. It was larger than most people’s homes. “I’m not sure.”
“Well, you could come back to Nashville if you want.” I could hear the hope in her voice.
“That sounds good too. I’m actually not sure what I want to do next.”
“Get married and have babies? To the woman of your choice, of course.”
I groaned. “I don’t think so. I’m thinking of traveling some. Maybe do some camping. Like I said, I’m not sure.”
“Well, I’ll shut up about marriage and babies then, even though you know what it’d mean to me to have a grandbaby to spoil.”
I had nothing to respond with to that. It wasn’t like I wouldn’t one day want kids. Maybe a few of them. I would want my child to have siblings, unlike me. Of course, it wasn’t from lack of trying on my parents’ part. Six miscarriages, and I was the only one to make it all the way. I’d almost been named Vandy for Vanderbilt Hospital, the place of my “glorious arrival,” as Mom called it. Thankfully, I became Nash, but there were no arrivals after me. Didn’t get a brother until twenty years later when I met Grant.
I didn’t like him much at first. Too quiet in the beginning. Too serious.
After a while, I got him to lighten up. A little. And if it wasn’t for him, I’d have flunked out my first semester, or might even possibly have gone to jail.
Nah. I wasn’t that bad. But I hadn’t been that good either.
“Honey, why don’tcha come down to Nashville on Sunday? You can talk to your daddy in person and work everything out. Besides, I’ve got a concert invitation I want ya to look at. It might end up being a tour, so ya might want to stay the week, or most of it anyways.”
I scanned my mental calendar. Nothing. Nothing. And Nothing.
“Sure. I’ll be there. Face to face with Dad is better anyway.”
“Crud.”
“What?”
“Your daddy’s discovered I’m missin’. Better cut this short and hide the phone.”
I laughed. “Stay away from the lions. Be safe and see you soon.”
“All right, baby boy. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
As the line disconnected, I nearly laid my phone down, but stared at it instead. Scrolling through my contacts, I came to her name. Journey.
It was barely seven-thirty in the morning and she was most likely still asleep. Or she might teach morning classes too and could be in the middle of a downward dog. Actually, I had no idea how she spent her days or even what she did outside of yoga.
But I wanted to know. I wanted to know everything.
That ass flashed in my mind again. Those eyes. That smile. Her lean strength and quick feet. She obviously ran in addition to teaching yoga because she’d hauled ass after the purse snatcher. In a race, she’d give me hard competition.
It had taken courage to go after him, and I liked that. Liked that she’d smiled instead of gotten pissed off like some women would that I’d helped. Liked that she seemed to like me even though it appeared she had no idea who I was. Liked her sense of humor, her openness, the thoughts she wasn’t able to hide on her face.
Yeah… I liked her.
And I was looking forward to tomorrow night. To seeing her again.
Unless she had changed her mind.
Staring at her name on my phone, I typed out a quick message. Still plan on being Wicked? Where do I pick you up tomorrow night?
I found myself holding my breath as I waited for a reply. Feeling stupid, I tossed the phone onto the table beside me, then snatched it up when it vibrated against the wood.
I’m looking forward to it.
I had her address now. A quick Google showed me she lived in Murray Hill, not too far from here. I was tempted to text her back but didn’t want to appear over eager. Opening another tab, I searched for restaurants with private rooms. Not the fancy places. I knew all of those already. That was where I would normally take a date. But Journey wasn’t like the women I normally went out with.
My phone buzzed in my hands. It was a text from Mom. Take her to Philip Marie. She’ll love it. xoxo
I grinned and texted back. I’m on it.
A quick search had me calling up their number, although the restaurant wasn’t open so early. From their website, I could see that their last reservation for a regular table was eleven-thirty. Perfect. Instructing Siri to remind me to make the reservation later, I tucked my phone in my pocket and headed downstairs, hoping for breakfast.
And I found it. Actually, I found Anne and Ray, Grant’s housekeeper and chef, puttering around in the kitchen. Married for over twenty years, the couple had lived in the downstairs quarters since Grant moved into the penthouse nearly four years ago.
Grant Sommerfield came across as a class A son of a bitch to most people. His demeanor was so closed off, his emotions so carefully hidden behind a blank face that it was difficult for people to know him well.
But he was also a damn softy. Anne and Ray Murphy were prime examples. When Grant started buying up New York real estate, he’d learned of the Irish couple who’d just been evicted because they were short one dollar on their rent. He’d been pissed and tracked the couple down, who had been forced to spend a few nights in a shelter. When he’d learned that Ray was a cook and Anne a maid for a hotel, he’d hired them on the spot, offering them room and board in addition to a fair wage.
Ray was doing something amazing looking to a roast that appeared to be close to going into the oven for dinner tonight while Anne was polishing silver that didn’t appear to need polished. They were talking softly, smiling and laughing as they seemed to enjoy each other’s company.
They both looked up as I walked in. “Good morning, Mr. Levington,” Ray said, giving me a beaming smile, his Irish brogue making me smile back. It always did. “What would you be likin’ for breakfast this fine morning?”
Anne was already pouring a cup of coffee for me, leaving it black as I preferred. “Here you go, sir.” Her brogue was even thicker. “Anything else ya be wantin’?”
I smiled at the older woman and ordered an omelet with everything but the kitchen sink from Ray.
Later that morning, I made the reservation and lucked out and got the cellar room when another couple had to cancel last minute.
I took that as a sign that my little, seriously hot and sweet yoga instructor, might just be someone I’d need to hold on to.