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One
Kyle Tailor sat on the couch beside his business partner and best friend from high school, Trent Caldwell. It was Thanksgiving. On the great room’s sixty-inch television, an interdivisional grudge match was happening between the Detroit Lions and Minnesota Vikings. Kyle wasn’t following the action. His gaze was locked on Trent’s sister.
Until she came along, solitude had never bothered him. In most ways it was simpler to live on his own without someone else’s physical or emotional clutter. To find himself needing Melody had been a shock to his system.
Now, he didn’t sleep well without her beside him. Since she’d been gone, he slogged through business meetings and routine activities in a foggy daze, unable to concentrate or care. He missed her hugs. Her way of teasing him. He’d lost weight, had stopped working out and lost an unacceptable amount of money in the casinos in the month since he’d come to Las Vegas to temporarily take over the management of Club T’s.
Trent elbowed him in his ribs.
Kyle ripped his gaze from Melody and arched an eyebrow at his business partner. “What?”
“Go talk to her.”
“I tried earlier.” When he’d first arrived, they’d exchanged a stilted “Happy Thanksgiving” and an awkward half hug. “She’s avoiding me.”
“Did you perfect your world-famous curveball on your first attempt?” Trent countered. “Try again.”
“She’s on the phone.”
Trent grunted and returned his attention to the television. His infant son sat on his lap. His matching blue eyes were on the screen and every time the Lions scored and Trent cheered, Dylan would respond to his father’s enthusiasm with clapping. From the love seat, the child’s mother watched the pair with such fondness Kyle’s gut twisted.
Laughter rose from the kitchen. Nate Tucker, the third partner in their Las Vegas nightclub, was in the process of putting away the leftovers from dinner, helped by Mia Navarro, a fellow songwriter he’d been dating for several months.
Thanksgiving was a day for families. A chance to celebrate what they had. Nate had Mia. Trent had Savannah and Dylan.
Frustration ate at him. Kyle should have had Melody except five months ago the paparazzi had captured her and famous DJ/music producer Hunter Graves coming out of a New York City nightclub hand-in-hand. The way Melody and her former flame had been smiling at each other had eaten at Kyle day and night until he’d accused her of cheating on him. Although she’d denied it, Kyle couldn’t find a way to believe her.
After all, hadn’t it been Hunter with whom she’d been so deeply in love that she was prepared to do almost anything to get him to love her back? Even engage in a crazy scheme to make Hunter realize he was taking her for granted. But playing like she was in love with Kyle to make Hunter jealous had become real awfully fast. That was probably why the plan had worked so well.
Seeing that he had real competition for Melody, Hunter had realized the error of his ways. But there was another outcome that neither Melody nor Kyle had seen coming. They’d actually fallen for each other. Kyle remembered back to the moment when all three of them had stood in her apartment, with Melody between the two men who loved her. The seconds were burned in his mind. Her choice could have gone either way. He’d experienced a heart-stopping range of emotions while he waited for her decision.
And in the months since, Kyle would be lying if he claimed he’d never wondered if she was happy with choosing him over Hunter.
His heart gave a sickening lurch as he regarded Melody. She was in great spirits at the moment. Her blue eyes sparkled. The corners of her mouth were turned up in a wry smile and her cheeks flushed with color.
Was she on the phone with Hunter Graves?
Disgusted with himself for jumping to that conclusion, Kyle turned to the television and forced his attention back to the game, but it was all just a swirl of purple, white and blue on a green background.
Falling in love with Melody had been the most incredible experience of his life. No woman before her had ever consumed his thoughts like this, and their lovemaking was exhilarating. Yet he had a hard time trusting the joy and found himself unable to shake the ever-present doubts that lurked in his subconscious, fears that nothing that felt so good could last forever.
Based on how his former love life had gone, he’d braced himself for the inevitable end of their relationship, prepared himself for loss. But the months stretched out and things between them had just gotten better. He’d loosened the reins of control and started to open up. And then she’d gone on tour and their physical separation had created an emotional gulf.
The damning photo of her and Hunter in New York had come at a point when too much time apart had demonstrated just how vulnerable their fledgling relationship was. Neither one of them had had enough confidence in their connection to weather such an emotionally charged situation. Pain pierced his temple. He dug his thumb into the spot.
There was another jab to his ribs. “She’s off the phone.”
“Thanks.” Kyle got to his feet and headed for the terrace.
Melody was on her way in. They met at the sliding glass door. Kyle stepped into the opening, blocking her from reentering the house.
“Look,” he said without preliminaries. “I came here tonight so we could talk.”
“You didn’t come for Nate’s cooking?”
Kyle didn’t crack a smile and Melody sighed in defeat. He knew she hated when he shut down like this, but he’d grown up building walls around his emotions. The strategy blocked pain and disappointment. Unfortunately, as his therapist liked to put it, it also kept him from “welcoming joy.”
He’d started seeing Dr. Warner when his baseball career abruptly ended a few years earlier after a string of shoulder and elbow injuries led to surgery and he was unable to make a full recovery. Needing to see a shrink filled him with shame and embarrassment. In fact, he’d let himself sink into some pretty dark mental territory before he’d made his first appointment. But the fact was, he’d needed help. Losing a career he loved left him feeling more vulnerable than he knew how to handle.
His dad would say a real man would suck it up and deal with his problems instead of running to some head shrinker. In Brent Tailor’s world, men didn’t talk about all that touchy-feely crap. A real man made decisions and if things went wrong, he fixed them. Kyle often wondered if his father thought a real man didn’t have feelings.
“We need to sort out what’s going on between us,” he said, stepping outside, herding her away from the family room and the safety of their friends.
“I don’t know where to start.”
“Your stuff is still at my place in LA, but you haven’t been there since the tour ended. Are you coming back?”
“I don’t know.”
