in the right hotel?” I scour the crowded bar area from the doorway, balancing my purse in one hand and phone in the other.
“Yes,” Chloe confirms down the phone. “Eve said Nate will be waiting in the Grayson bar. That’s where you are, right?”
I read the plaque on the wall. Grayson Bar. Drew and Tanner worked on the design for this hotel. I remember Drew winding Tanner up for weeks after he told the hotel they should use Tanner’s last name for the bar. He wasn’t amused.
“He’s probably not here yet. I’m early.”
I glance at my watch. Nate Black still has ten minutes until our interview. I force down the excited butterflies in my stomach as I walk into the busy bar and find a cozy booth against the back wall. I need somewhere quieter to record our interview. Ideally, we’d conduct it in his hotel suite, or some other place where the recording picks up our voices without too much background noise. But Nate suggested to Eve that I meet him here after work because he’s between meetings today and doesn’t have long before a dinner booking tonight. I hope I can get all of Eve’s questions covered and still have time to ask some of my own as well.
The bartender comes over and I order a bottle of sparkling water and two glasses, then pull out my recorder and notebook, placing them on the table. I look around taking in the business crowd that have come in for drinks after work. They’re mostly men in suits. One catches my eye and smiles at me. I look at his forest green tie and smile back politely as the color brings someone else to my mind.
I fiddle with my phone on the table. I’ve not seen Logan since we got back two days ago. Not that I expected to. No texts. Nothing. I told him we were forgetting anything ever happened the minute we got back to London. And he’s done exactly what I asked him to. For the first time ever, Logan Rich has done what I wanted him to. And I should be happy about that.
I am happy about that.
“Maddox Harper?”
I startle and look up into a handsome face framed by dark hair. Warm brown eyes are waiting for a response.
“Oh. Yes. That’s me.”
I jump to my feet, smiling like an idiot as I shake Nate Black’s hand. His are huge and mine gets lost inside warm, soft fingers as he scans my face, a smile stretching his lips.
“Thank you so much for taking the time to do this interview.” My words spill fast from my mouth as we both sit. I can’t believe I’m about to interview Nate Black.
“It’s a pleasure. I enjoy talking about my work.”
I falter at the sound of his voice as I open my notebook and place my voice recorder between us on the table.
“Well, I love to talk about it too, so that’s great,” I gush awkwardly.
“Great.” Nate smiles, and I pick up my pen and take the cap off for something to do as confusion burrows its way into my stomach.
“Would you mind stating your name and just giving a small introduction about what you do?”
I press record on my device and wait.
Nate introduces himself, saying his age, thirty-one, and where he’s originally from, Kent. And what he does for a living, a narrator or voice actor.
My stomach sinks further with each word, and my cheeks start to ache as I fight to maintain the professional, encouraging smile on my lips.
He sounds nothing like I imagined in real life. The realization is crushing. Like meeting your hero and them kicking a dog in front of you or pushing a kid over, and you realize it was all an illusion and they’re a grade A asshole. Not that Nate is. He’s sweet and charming as he talks. He asks me why I love books, and I tell him about the escape into another world. The magic. He seems genuinely interested, asking me more questions about my job at the magazine.
But every time he speaks, a voice inside my head pokes at my brain and asks, Why isn’t his voice as smooth? Since when did his laugh sound like that?
But it’s obvious. He’s a voice actor. He performs in different voices.
An idea springs into my mind. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.
“Would you mind saying something in Cameron’s voice? Maybe a line he says to Frederica? For our readers. They would love that.”
Hope blooms in my chest. Nate looks puzzled. We have an online magazine. We have readers, not listeners.
“I can write it into the piece, maybe add a sound clip. They’ll go mad for it.” I nod encouragingly as I make it up on the spot. This is purely for me. So I can listen to it later with Chloe and swoon.
Nate leans over the top of the table, closer to the recorder. His eyes hold mine as he says, “You’re a smart girl, Frederica. You know you’re going to choose me. Not him. We’re two souls made from the same star, alike in every way.”
I swallow, waiting for the butterflies to launch an uprising in my stomach as they did when I first heard that line from book one.
Nate sits back in his chair, his broad chest rising beneath his black sweater as he looks back at me. “That okay?”
“That was incredible.” I beam at him.
My stomach does nothing. The butterflies are on strike, most likely dampened down by nerves. This is Nate Black. The man I’ve held many fantasies about in my head as I’ve listened to his work. It’s bound to be overwhelming. Plus, the flight back from Italy could have messed with my ears.
He smiles, accepting my compliment.
His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he pulls it out, glancing at the screen.
“I’m sorry, it’s the production company. I need to call them.”
We both stand, and he reaches out, curling his warm hand around mine again as his brown eyes penetrate mine.
“It was great to meet you, Maddox. I’m so sorry to cut this short.”
“It’s no problem,” I answer truthfully, already thinking about calling Chloe and dissecting this meeting word for word with her. “Thank you so much for taking the time to meet me.”
Nate lets go of my hand but keeps his eyes on mine. “It was a pleasure.”
Pleasure. A ripple of something unexpected dances through me at the word, warming the blood in my veins.
I wait until Nate leaves before I fall back into my seat and turn my recorder off. I asked the questions Eve wanted and a couple of my own, too, so I’d call the interview a success. My first proper interview. Unless you count Logan. But I’m not counting him. I didn’t get nervous before interviewing him like I did with Nate.
I pour another glass of sparkling water, drinking half of it before I scribble down notes in my pad. A server comes over, asking if I’d like to order any food. I decline, and as he walks away. My eyes land on a familiar suit at the bar. Navy-blue jacket leading to light brown hair, an air of what I used to think was arrogance, but the past few weeks have taught me it’s really the cool confidence that comes with being brilliant at what you do and being comfortable in your own skin.
Logan.
The bubbles from the water fizz in my stomach in one giant burst of energy like flapping wings as I stand. I admire the neat trim of his hair around the sides. He’s had it cut since we came back.
I gather up my recorder and notepad, tossing them into my purse, but when I look up again, Logan’s been joined by a woman with long, light blonde hair.
Gabrielle.
I fall back into my seat as she kisses him on both cheeks. He smiles at her as she sits next to him at the bar. I’ve only met her twice, but I’d recognize her anywhere. She has an ethereal beauty. I don’t think she walks anywhere. She glides. And she’s a doctor, or surgeon, working for the United Nations in war zones and on aid projects. Basically, she’s a saint. Her hair’s probably bright blonde because there’s a halo hidden beneath the strands lighting it up.
The two chat for the next few minutes. I can’t move or look away. I stepped off the plane from Italy telling Logan we needed to forget about what happened between us.
Yet, I can’t look away.
Why can’t I look away?
From the angle I’m sitting, I can only see Gabrielle’s face, not Logan’s. She seems upset about something, and Logan reaches across the bar to hold her hand. I drop my eyes away like I’m interrupting a private moment and take deep breaths to quell a ball of nausea in my gut.
Less than a second passes before I’m staring at them both again.
Gabrielle stands and embraces Logan. Then she kisses him. My hand tightens around the strap of my purse. She pulls back, looking at him with a starry-eyed expression.
I jump to my feet, needing air. I’ve been sitting too long. I need to get out of here. His life is none of my business now. It never has been.
I stride across the bar, too far away for them to notice me. He has his back in my direction anyway, and Gabrielle is—I snap my eyes away as she kisses him again, her hand wrapped around his shoulder—pre-occupied by Logan’s lips.
My pace increases until I spill out of the hotel and onto the street. I gasp, sucking in deep breaths of air. Then I snatch my phone from out of my purse and dial Chloe.
“Hey. How was the interv—?”
“I need to get drunk.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
I smooth down my green fitted dress, then reach up and yank out my hair clip, shaking out my curls. I’m grateful I’m wearing something that can easily go from work to bar, because God knows I need a drink.
“Say no more,” Chloe sings. “Girls’ cocktail night, here we come.”
