Jake’s jaw hardens, and his face turns serious. “Is that what you want?”
“I don’t know,” I reply, shrugging. It’s the honest answer because what I want is determined by how my dad would respond. I don’t know whether I could handle the rejection if he weren’t open to a relationship with me. This is one of the times when I wish the Magic 8 Ball from the ’90s actually worked.
Jake nods, his jaw clenched tighter as he stares into my eyes, seeing into the very depths of my soul. “Ifyouwant to find your dad, I fully support it. If you’re doing it because you want to get ahead of a potential media story, I’ma hundred percentagainst it. I never want you to make significant life decisions based on what you think is best for my career or how it will play out in the media.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, dragging his index finger down my cheek and along my jawbone. “So, what doyouwant, Kate?”
Isn’t that the million-dollar question? What do I want? The type of question I’ve struggled to answer for years, until recently. Even now, it still can seem out of reach sometimes. The fear of being rejected or the innate inclination to please others overshadows the desires of my heart.
I lean into Jake’s hand, allowing him to cup my face, sinking into the warmth of his body. If there was ever a time to crossthis bridge, it’s now because Jake is by my side. I know that, no matter how the situation with my father goes, Jake will support me and help me through it. It’s what gives me the courage to finally say, “I’d like to try and find my dad. At least know if he’s alive and whether he’d be interested in seeing me one day.” Tilting my head up, I look into Jake’s steel-blue eyes as I blink back tears. “What if he doesn’t want to get to know me? If he really doesn’t care, like my mom has said for decades.”
Jake holds my face with both hands, staring at me with an intensity that melts my heart. “Then it’s his loss, not yours. You’re an incredible woman, Kate. Everyone who has ever met you knows that.” His lips find mine, kissing me softly and sweetly. “I only have one request if you want to move forward with finding him.”
I inhale deeply, not knowing what he might ask. “Okay. What is it?”
“Let me hire a private investigator to find him. We get all the information discreetly, giving you the time and space to decide whether you want to reach out to him.” He pauses briefly. “There are a lot of people who will try to take advantage of you because of me. Because you’re in the spotlight. Although I’m hopeful your dad won’t be one of them, I’d rather we be safe than sorry. We need to have more information about what he’s been up to before you consider opening the door to having him in your life.”
He’s right.
My dad could try to use me to get close to Jake or other people in his orbit. Is this a consideration I’m going to need to keep in the back of my mind every time I meet someone new? Anytime a friend or colleague asks for a favor?
Is this what Jake deals with every day?
“Hiring a PI makes sense. Would you mind handling it? Keep the information to yourself until it’s all pulled together.” I avert my eyes, glancing at the tiled floor before meeting his gaze onceagain. “I’ll cope better if I’m kept in the dark rather than getting bits and pieces of information.”
“Will do. I’ll talk to the team about it tomorrow,” he replies, gently kissing me. “We also should talk about how we’re going to handle security in Chicago and our long-term living arrangements because the paparazzi and fan interest isn’t dying down as we’d hoped. ”
“Yeah,” I murmur, knowing we should’ve discussed some of that in detail months ago instead of dancing around it. “Can we talk about it tomorrow?”
“Of course. Anything for you.” He kisses my forehead. “Let’s get to bed. I’ve been craving my dessert for hours.”
He flashes me a wicked grin, leading me into our bedroom, where he makes good on devouring me, leaving me more than satisfied and able to sleep through the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY
jake
The muggy airenvelops me the second I step outside. There’s a lot to love about living in Nashville year-round, but the oppressive summer heat is not one of them. It doesn’t take long until I’m sweating through my thin T-shirt and athletic shorts as I grill our dinner. Twenty minutes out here and I’ll need another shower.
Hmmm… Perhaps I’ll convince Kate to join me. She’s a fanatic about being clean, and having her body pressed up against mine in the shower is what wet dreams are made of—at least mine, anyway.
Fuck. I need to get my mind out of the gutter. Focus on tonight’s conversation about our long-term living arrangements. Kate and I have kicked the can on this for far too long, and we need to make some decisions.
If it were up to me, I’d live wherever she wanted, but my career makes it practically impossible to be anywhere other than Nashville for the foreseeable future. That gives us two options: live in Nashville full-time or split our time between here and Chicago. If we choose the latter, we need a different place in Chicago. Kate finding out that people went through her condotrash last week might have caused her to spiral for hours. While I was being calm, helping to comfort her on the outside, I was filled with rage at the serious invasion of privacy and ready to hire permanent security twenty-four seven.
I toss my head back and stare at the sky. This deep-rooted nervousness won’t go away. It intensifies every time another situation arises, highlighting the ramifications of being with me. A wave of panic rushes over me, worried about how Kate will handle the latest drama or the next one that will inevitably pop up—if she’ll get spooked and run. I wouldn’t blame her if she did. This lifestyle isn’t for everyone.
Grabbing our steaks, potatoes, and veggies off the grill, I head inside, trying to remove the lingering doubts in my mind. Silence the thoughts about how I don’t think I would survive losing her again. Deep down, I know she’s as committed to our relationship as I am, but that doesn’t make these concerns go away completely. Every social post, negative comment, intrusion of privacy, and complication in her career is another con to add to the list about being with me.
I worry that, one day, the cons will outweigh the pros.
“Dinner’s ready, sweetheart,” I call out, stepping into the expansive kitchen I rarely used until Kate started staying here. Before her, I lived almost entirely on takeout and preprepared meals. Now, the kitchen has become one of my favorite spots in the house because it’s where Kate and I tag-team dinner and chat for hours.
“Thank God. I’mstarving.” Kate walks into the kitchen wearing black leggings and a tank top with a hoodie tied around her waist for when she inevitably gets cold.
We work in tandem, preparing plates for each other before we sit down at the table with a bottle of chilled Riesling. My nerves form a pit in my stomach. It takes all my energy to control my face, so she doesn’t see how insecure I am abouttonight’s conversation. It’s one of the rare times when I’m not my usual confident self; instead, I’m bogged down with anxiety about scaring her away. Moving too fast. Saying the wrong thing. Figuring out our living situation is one of the most consequential decisions in our relationship; it’s also what sparked her freak-out last year when she walked out on me.Onus.
Although I completely understand what led to that decision and know it was ultimately what was best for both of us at the time, it doesn’t lessen my fear that it could potentially happen again, especially with all the scrutiny her life is now under.
“Wait until you see the designs for your kitchen remodel. I’m in complete awe of how they’re going to transform this space to make it more inviting,” Kate gushes, wearing a wide grin. “Everything the designer picked out for your house so far has been spot on. I’m so glad that Max was able to find her.”
