Chapter Forty-Five

Katy

By the time the limo arrives at the studio, I can barely breathe. When the door swings open, Liv is right there waiting to escort me back. I wish that I could just be normal. I feel silly…I’m a grown woman hyperventilating over a five-minute car ride, but my fears are real. On top of that, I cried nonstop all night long. I’m sure I look a mess.

Liv is put together, dressed in a white pantsuit and heels, with a clipboard clutched in one hand and a coffee in the other. She smiles at me now, as if we are old friends. Even though I know she can tell I’ve been crying, she doesn’t let on that anything is out of the ordinary. I’m sure she sees some crazy shit in her line of work. And with the way she divinely intervened yesterday, I’m guessing the face I’m sporting this morning isn’t a surprise.

“Good morning. Let’s get going, shall we?” She dips her head to the left and takes off walking, so I follow, tripping over my own feet to keep up. “This is Briggs’s dressing room, and yours is here, next door. He’s already arrived.” She starts up the steps and pauses, looking around like she’s lost something.

“I’ll show Gavin to the green room when he arrives,” she says timidly. She doesn’t want to ask, but she has to know if he’s coming. This woman is a blessing, nothing like the tough New Yorker I imagined.

“He, uh…he can’t make it. He had to get back to our son. He flew home this morning.” The truth is I have no idea where he is, but I have to respect his decision. With the way things happened, I can’t blame him for his reaction. I’ve lost his trust, and I’m here to get it back.

“Sorry to hear that.” She pushes the door open and ushers me inside. The room is filled with racks of designer clothes, all with the tags still attached, and a vanity loaded with makeup and every snack and beverage you could imagine on the coffee table in the center of the room. “Your stylists won’t arrive for another twenty minutes or so. Go ahead and look through the clothing and pick out some things you like. They’ll help you decide when they get here.”

I run my hand through the hangers, letting the fabrics brush my skin. Everything is so beautiful and much nicer than anything I have at home. “Thank you.” I look at her pointedly, and we have one of those moments that conveys a lot more than pleasantries. She’s rooting for me.

“No problem. There’s a service phone over there. Just ring us if you need anything.”

Just like that, she’s gone, and I’m alone.

I’m alone, and all I can think about is the fact that Briggs is feet away and I know what’s about to happen. Because it has to happen. I have to find a way to fix things with Gavin, and this is the first step.

I place my purse on the table, slipping my phone into my pocket, and with my heart in my hands, I head over to start phase one of getting my family back.

Butterflies swarm inside and around me in waves that have me swaying left and right.

Left.

Right.

I’m a poor man’s soldier. But I have to do it one last time; I have to soldier up.

The heart wants what the heart wants, and I want them both. I just have to teach mine better.

Seconds after I knock lightly, the door opens, and Briggs stands there in a pair of faded jeans with a T-shirt resting on his shoulder. I can’t stop the way my body reacts to Briggs any more than I can help the way it’s always reacted to Gavin. I just wish it responded to my husband with the same fervor it does for this man.

Amber eyes flirt over the expression on my face as his smile appears, along with his dimple. I drink him in like fine wine, savoring every bare inch of him. His body is even more beautiful than I’d remembered. No longer gaunt and sickly, but strong, hard lines of toned muscle. He’s recovered from our experience, maybe even stronger than before.

When he reads my expression, the corners of his mouth curl up into a devastating smile. His eyes take me in slowly, and he says my name with such reverence. “Scottie.” I’m already drunk on this man, and I can’t handle the fire I’m playing with, but leaving without this conversation would be a mistake. One I can’t afford to make.

“Can I come in for a sec?” My pitch is high, my voice shaky, and my palms are covered in sweat.

“Sure, yeah. Of course. Come on in.” He reaches for my hand, and without a second thought, I reach back.

Sparks.