I Promise You: Stand-Alone College Sports Romance(65)

“Nice car,” I say lightly. Play this cool, Serena.

“Money is mighty fine.” He smiles as he straightens his lean frame and fast-walks to me. Before I can stop him, he gives me a hug. “Baby girl.” He buries his face in my hair. He still smells like pine trees and man. Then, he kisses me before I can turn my cheek, his lips soft. He laughs and gazes down at me with his velvet brown eyes. “Fuck, it’s good to see you.”

“Don’t do that,” I say, untangling myself from his arms.

“Alright, alright. My bad.” He takes my hand, pulling me over to a concrete table under the trees. “Remember this spot? You texted me to meet you here, then told me you were pregnant—”

“And you asked me to marry you.” I sit down, my legs fidgeting. We sat at this very table and talked for four hours that day. I loved him, but underneath I was unsure that he was as committed as I was. He held my hands and painted a glorious picture of us with a family. He told me how perfect it would be. He promised he’d be a good husband.

I believed him.

He drinks me in, amazement on his face, and I shift around, feeling twitchy. He, of course, is relaxed and easy—because he’s gotten what he wants.

“How are you?” I ask.

He pushes hair out of his face. “I miss you like crazy. Every time I sing your song, I wanna cry, baby.”

“Vane…don’t…”

He shrugs, looking away from me. “Right. It’s been a hard year. The tour killed, but it’s a lot of work. Traveling, the schedule, the cramped bus with the guys… It was getting to me. I need to feel free, ya know?”

“Hmm.”

“We’ve got a new manager and a contract with Ecko. They’ve got big plans for us. The fame is cool, but I need space to work on new music. So, I’m back. For you.” His eyes come back to me. “You never gave me a chance to explain or see you, baby. You sent those divorce papers, and I signed them. I wronged you, I cut you deep, but what you saw, that girl—I didn’t even know who she was.”

Words I’ve heard before on the phone.

“That just makes it worse.” My words are flat. “She wasn’t the only one, right? All those pretty girls in the VIP room must have been tempting.”

He brushes at a skull ring on his finger, not meeting my eyes. “I was lonely, baby. It’s the lifestyle, Serena, but it won’t happen again. If I’d known you were coming to Nashville—”

Anger rushes in like a tidal wave, but my words are soft. “You would have arranged to not be getting your dick sucked? I miscarried. I wanted to see you. And boy, did I ever.”

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he implores.

I study his face, the lines of tension, his twisted mouth.

“We can work on it,” he says in a rush. “Come to Memphis with me, move your stuff into my place, and when the tour starts, come with us. I’ll never be out of your sight. Come on, we’ve been through some shit, Serena, but we still love each other. We made a baby.”

“The condom broke. It wasn’t on purpose.”

“You wanted our baby.”

Grief hits me in the face as I grind out my words. “I did, so much. Stop manipulating me with it. It hurts, Vane!”

He grimaces and pulls at his hair. “I made a mistake, and you taught me a good lesson, but you can’t just throw it all away. Baby girl. We belong together.”

A sound of disbelief comes from me. I taught him a lesson? Divorcing him wasn’t a game I played. He cheated on me! He thinks if I babysit him, he won’t do it again? I’m not his mother.

My hands fidget and I temper my tone. “I care about you as a person, Vane, but I have a life here. Grad school, remember? Romy needs me. I can’t just leave her. I don’t want to. I spent too much time with you, away from her, and she got in some trouble.”

“Bring her.”

“No.”

“You can write anywhere. Give me a chance. All you need is me. We were happy.”

I sit back and stare at him. Were we? Or was I always jumping when he snapped his fingers, supporting him, putting my family on hold? Romy did drugs. My grades suffered. I barely graduated with a decent GPA. He’s always put himself first, his music, his career. He hasn’t once asked how I am.

As if he senses my train of thought, he says, “I took you for granted, but I’ll rebuild our trust.” His throat bobs. “Where’s the girl who fell in love with me in one night?”

That girl was needy and na?ve. She was looking for something to fill the void left by the death of her parents. I’m older now. Smarter. “She’s not me.”

He jerks up from the table and paces around, hands clenched.

I rise with him. “I came out of respect for what we had, and because I knew you needed to hear it from me in person. I’m done,” I say softly. “Move on, Vane. Write your beautiful music and become a superstar.”

“I don’t want to.” His voice is dejected as his shoulders slump. “No one gets me like you. You’re real, baby. I could write an entire album with songs just about you.”

I sigh. “Maybe it’s all about fate, about when you meet someone. The timing wasn’t right for us—”

He holds my eyes. “You loved me once—”