Page 74 of False Promises

“How are things at home?”

“Marriage, kids, house, career. It’s a lot. We’re trying to find our pace.” He fished his phone out to look at the time. “Guess I should get ready. I’m scheduled to play in half an hour. See you later, man.”

All night, before and after my set, I stuck to the roulette wheels, dice, and other luck games where having a poker face wasn’t a prerequisite. I had learned my lesson this afternoon.

For some reason—or divine intervention—I ended up richer than I was when I started the night. Tomorrow I would write a big fat check to the hospital foundation if I kept winning.

Sam returned to his wife well before eleven, and Riley disappeared with his date sometime around midnight.

I lost Trevor and Dylan in the crowd, and an hour later, I called it a night.

It’d been a long time since I found myself alone at home. In the last year, I’d barely slept in my Nashville penthouse. With high ceilings, straight lines, honey-colored hardwood floors, and wall-length windows offering the best view of the Nashville skyline, I used to love this place. Now I felt like a stranger in my own house. Even though I much preferred its rustic and inviting vibe to the sterile place I rented in LA. Unlike it, this penthouse was mine. All mine. I bought it before I embarked on the solo career path when I needed a place in town after I sold off my house in White Crest. A clean slate after my brother died and my parents deserted me. I had no reason to visit my childhood hometown anymore, so I cut all ties with it, the memories bittersweet. Even the good ones.

For the longest time, except for my log cabin in Green Mountain, I couldn’t envision myself living anywhere else but here. Until Savannah stormed into my life and I decided to give our relationship a try.

On my back, with one arm bent under my head, I stared at the ceiling for hours. The muffled sound of music playing outside comforted me.

Being here felt oddly soothing. For both my mind and soul.

As I let my mind wander, I enjoyed the near silence. I never realized how suffocating—and noisy—my life in Los Angeles had become until I escaped it yesterday and landed here. Where my heart and I belonged. In more ways than I was ready to acknowledge.

A thousand unanswered questions swirled in my mind. And for the first time, I wondered if I’d have been happier if I still resided here. In Nashville, I was alone and calm on my own. In LA, I had company but sported a restless mind most of the time. No matter how dedicated I was to my relationship, I couldn’t see myself falling in love with Savannah Prince any time soon. There was just something preventing me from letting go completely. To fall without a safety net and see where it would take me.

Savannah and I, we got along fine most of the time, and I enjoyed having her around, but her tantrums over insignificant details and mood swings were sometimes hard to deal with. She was asking to be the sole priority in my life. I had already put my career on the back burner, more than I should, to please her. And I even postponed the release of my next album, unable to give my music the dedication it deserved. I refused to put something out I wasn’t fully proud of, one that didn’t scream perfection in my eyes.

And I lived far away from Dahlia and Jack, which made spending time with them kinda complicated. I couldn’t sacrifice more. In fact, I had to make Savannah understand that I’d be happier if all aspects of my life fulfilled me. Family. Friends. Career. Music. Love. Or the closest thing to the latter I could muster.

Savannah was a smart woman. I was sure she’d understand once I explained to her how I felt. We still had a long way to go in terms of having deep and meaningful conversations, but I was not losing hope. Tonight, I missed having her by my side. Every time my gaze had landed on one of those two hostesses, my thoughts always swirled back to her. Yeah, she occupied a larger place in my life than I ever thought I’d be able to give a woman.

With my phone in hand and my thumb hovering over the call button, I hesitated to dial her. Maybe the sound of her voice could appease my mind. Just like Dahlia’s did. Two in the morning. Savannah wouldn’t appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night. Nah, it was a bad idea.

After I tossed and turned for a bit, I found a soothing position, and soon I surrendered myself to sleep.

21

CARTER

Two days later than planned, I returned to LA. The morning after the casino night, Riley came over, and I agreed to extend my stay so we could go over tour dates together and have dinner with the representatives of my label. Then June invited me to her kid’s birthday party, an event I couldn’t pass, and I ended up meeting with Addison over lunch at Wild and Country, the newest bar in town Riley and she had shares in, to discuss merch designs I commissioned. Savannah hadn’t been happy when I announced I would return later than planned, but in some way, the little time apart did me good. I was ready to have a discussion with her about how I saw our future.

After we got into an argument over the phone, I let her buy stuff on my account because she complained I was taking too long to return home and she felt rejected.

Hell, she was the one who refused to come along.

This was part of everything I wanted us to discuss. I had a nice evening planned for the two of us. A great dinner downtown and a night at the most prestigious hotel in the city.

My heart danced in my chest at the idea of surprising her.

Savannah would understand she had nothing to worry about. That I was committed to our relationship as long as she did her part too. A newfound energy infused inside me as I approached our apartment building. Yes, we could make it all work. It didn’t have to be one or the other. Every piece of my life could fit together. Savannah would realize how happy it made me and would have no other choice but to follow my lead.

With an impressive bouquet of red roses in hand, I entered our silent apartment on my tiptoes—fucking hard to do at my size—and spotted my girlfriend bent over the kitchen counter after I crossed the impressive foyer. Her brown hair acted as a silky curtain around her face while her eyes were trained on something. Probably a script, seeing the focus straining her features. She was wearing a pair of red spandex leggings and a white tank top over a sports bra. I relished the vision of her for a minute, feeling lucky I had someone to share my life with and to come home to.

The fragrance of vanilla from the candles burning on the kitchen counter saturated the air.

With its high-vaulted ceilings and giant windows, marble floors, and golden accents, our apartment looked nothing like I ever envisioned myself living in. But Savannah fell in love with this place the first time we visited it. And I really hoped she’d like the place where we would build a life together. And the fact this was the first decision we made together made it extra special in my eyes and meant a lot more to me.

The luxury apartment was way over the budget I’d agreed to pay for a third home. I preferred rustic, warmth, and cozy to chic, frigid, and soulless. But I could compromise. Hence, here we were, living in this over-the-top place I now called home.

When I crossed the living room, I halted. What the fuck. A new leather couch set that looked overly expensive took residency in the middle of the room. A pool table occupied the far corner. Over the fireplace hung a giant, at least ten by ten feet, painting I recognized as one I’d seen in a well-known artist’s exhibition we went to not so long ago. In the dining room, a new twelve-seat rosewood set replaced the imported Italian glass one we bought together. A chandelier made of—were they crystals, like genuine crystals?—hung from the ceiling, casting a soft glow on the walls, the giant windows framed with thick velvet dark teal curtains.