Page 22 of Tate
Glo picked up the coffee. “I’m not really sure. It happened so fast…” She blew on the rising steam. “One minute I had a thriving career, the next I’m sleeping in the guest room.”
“Still haven’t moved back into your old room, huh?” Cher wore her long red hair gathered back, low and to the side. Only Glo’s long-legged friend could rock the over-the-knee boots, the short black dress, and oversized gauzy shirt. She looked professional, put together, and fit, and Glo felt a little underdressed in her boyfriend jeans, striped T-shirt, and leather jacket.
Glo set her cup down. “Do you know that my mother still hasn’t cleaned out Joy’s things from our room? And she won’t letme touch them. It’s been ten years, and she still has it dusted and vacuumed every week.”
“Grief does that—holds us hostage. It took my father three years to clean out my mother’s closet.” Cher broke off a piece of her late afternoon treat—a morning glory muffin.
“What, are you charging by the hour now?”
Cher laughed. “No. You’re the one with the psychology degree. I just know that grief makes us do crazy things. Like hike across America or climb mountains?—”
“Or push incredibly hot, brave, and amazing men out of our lives?”
“That too,” Cher said, taking another bite of her muffin. “Listen, I’m not judging, just jealous. I haven’t had a date in months.”
Which was crazy. Cher was not only beautiful, but smart too. Glo always knew her small-town friend from East Tennessee was destined for greatness, starting when she’d helmed theVanderbilt Hustleras editor in chief. Now she worked as a fiction acquisitions editor for a national publisher.
Maybe Glo should have gotten a “real” job, like her mother had suggested, with her psychology degree. Gone on to be a counselor, like she’d planned. But she had more than enough problems than to spend hours listening to others.
Although, maybe listening to others would help her figure out how to unsnarl the mess inside.
“Maybe you should try online dating?”
“Oh no. Most of those guys are looking for a booty call. I have a strict IRL policy for dating.”
“IRL?”
“In Real Life.”
Glo laughed, and it eased the fist that seemed to grip her heart since she’d flown home in the Jackson private jet nearlythree weeks ago. Since she’d moved her meager belongings into the grand guest room suite of the Jackson estate.
Since she realized one bright morning that she’d been sucked, ever so surreptitiously, back into her mother’s world. Listening to briefings at the dining room table over poached eggs and wheat toast. Sure, she’d done a few interviews online and over the phone for CMG, thanks to Carter’s press release of their award nomination. But it felt like her world had become a rerun of…will her mother win? All hands on deck to get the job done.
Never mind her own life.
“I caught your interview onThe Highway, by the way. And that video of you singing ‘One True Heart’ is trending on YouTube.” Cher thumbed open her phone, and the YouTube app popped up as she handed it to Glo. “Is that Tate in the background?”
Glo nodded without looking at it.
“Yeah, I can see why you’re moping.”
“We really didn’t have anything…I mean…he was my bodyguard, nothing more.”
“Right,” Cher said, turning off the screen. She leaned forward. “Catch me up. I want more than the high points. All the delicious details, please.”
Oh, Cher was good medicine. Glo had missed her when she hit the road with the Belles. “Where to start? You heard about the bombing in San Antonio, right?”
“After one of your NBR-X shows?”
“Yeah. We were auditioning for the permanent gig, and the bomb went off in the backstage area. It trapped Kelsey, a little girl, and Knox Marshall?—”
“Tate’s brother?”
“Yeah. He runs the family ranch in Montana. Tate has two older brothers—Reuben, the oldest, is a smokejumper—and twoyounger brothers. Wyatt is a hockey player, and Ford is a Navy SEAL.”
“Oh…my. So enough alpha male to go around, then.”
“You’re not helping.”
