Irritation flared inside me—at myself, my indecision, my inability to fight for what I wanted. Jacqui had the right idea but she was wrong about one detail: I had to put my big girl panties on before I could pull them up.
With my decision made—and the hope that I wasn't making a mistake burning in my chest—I swiped my thumb across the phone's screen to wake it up. It chirped almost immediately, the sound and the accompanying vibration startling me because it shouldn't be doing anything.
The noise wasn't from anything I did, though—it was from an incoming call. A call, not a text.
From Nathan.
My heart slammed into my chest as I stared at the screen, momentarily stunned into inaction. I knew I should answer it—I wanted to answer it—but I was frozen in place, unable to do much more than suck in a hasty breath that caught in my throat and made me cough.
"Oh, for shit's sake. Girl, what am I going to do with you?" Jacqui lifted the phone from my outstretched hand, swiped one finger across the screen, then raised it to her ear. "You have thirty seconds to convince me I should give the phone to Addy before I hang up and erase your number."
"Jacqui!" I reached for the phone but she turned to the side, blocking me with her shoulder.
"Yes, she's fine." Jacqui glanced over her shoulder and studied me with a small frown. "Well, mostly fine. Nothing that can't be fixed by the right man."
My eyes widened in shock and surprise, heat filling my face at her suggestive words. I stomped my bare foot against the floor and held my hand out in silent demand. Jacqui, of course, completely ignored me.
"Hmmm. Okay, I might believe that. But I'm not totally convinced. Keep talking."
I folded my arms in front of me, my fingers digging into flesh in wary impatience as I watched Jacqui. Her brows lowered in a small frown and a second later her mouth pursed and I couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not. Her gaze darted to mine then just as quickly moved away.
"And why should I believe that?"
"Jacqui!" Her name came out as a low hiss and she acted like she hadn't even heard it. And maybe she hadn't because she was completely focused on whatever Nathan was saying.
She nodded and shifted the phone from one ear to the next then walked toward the open kitchen of the apartment. I started to follow but she shook her head, motioning for me to stay where I was with a quick wave of her hand.
I was so stunned that I actually stood there, unmoving, for a full minute before shaking some sense into myself. By the time I reached Jacqui, she was giving him her address and disconnecting the call.
"You didn't let me talk to him!"
"You can talk to him soon enough. He's on his way over."
"What? He's coming here now? Why?"
"Because I told him if he wanted to see you, he needed to come here because I'm certainly not letting you walk to his place at this time of night, alone."
"But what does he want? Did he say? Was he angry? Is he in trouble at all? What about—"
"Easy, cher. You can find out for yourself as soon as he gets here."
"He didn't sound angry?"
Jacqui tilted her head and lifted one brow in an expression that silently asked if I had lost my mind. "Would I let him come here if I thought he was angry?"
"No. But what about—"
"Cher, he'll be here in twenty minutes at the most, sooner if he runs and I have a feeling he might do just that." She glanced at the clock on the microwave then pointed a deliberate finger at me, sweeping it from the top of my hair to the tips of my bare feet. "Are you sure you want to answer the door looking like you're coming off a five-day bender?"
I glanced down at the oversized t-shirt and tattered yoga pants I'd been wearing since this morning, then looked back at Jacqui. She folded her arms in front of her and raised both brows, waiting for my answer.
I spun on my heel without saying a word, Jacqui's low laugh following me as I hurried to the bathroom.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nathan
One of the few things about coming to New Orleans that I had looked forward to was the constant revelry. The partying. The good times. The certainty that there would never be a lack of women to keep me company. I'd latched onto that knowledge and held it close, using it to soothe my battered ego when I'd been told where I was going.
The allure of that constant revelry had already worn thin but it had never annoyed me, not like it did right now. I rushed through the careless crowds on Bourbon Street without paying attention to who I was bumping into or what I was stepping in, drawing more than one angry glance and a few profanity-laced warnings. I knew I stuck out and not just because I was damn near running. There weren't any other men wearing a suit and tie and dress shoes, dodging and weaving through crowds focused on nothing more than letting the good times roll.
The fact that this might very well be one of my last times walking down Bourbon Street stuck in the back of my mind, a dark shadow that I was doing my damnedest to ignore. As much as I had resented being traded, I'd slowly come to accept that New Orleans was home now and likely would be for the foreseeable future.
Because of Addy.
And now, because of her, there was a chance I'd lose it all.
No, not because of Addy—because of her father.
I slipped on something slick, the sole of my dress shoe providing little traction. My foot slid out and I quickly regained my balance before falling in an indignant heap in the middle of the street.
I swore beneath my breath, wondering if the slip was from whatever I'd stepped in or from the brief flare of guilt I'd felt. I didn't blame Addy but there had been a few seconds this afternoon and evening, when I'd been talking to my agent, where I had been tempted to.
A few months ago, I probably would have. I would have had no problem at all pointing a finger and laying the blame for every shitty thing that had happened this past year right in Addy's gorgeous lap.
But I couldn't—wouldn't—do that now. If there was anyone to blame, it was me. I was the one who pursued her after learning who she was. Maybe it was the temptation of going after something I wasn't supposed to have, or the allure of breaking yet another fucking rule that had been thrown in my face. Or hell, maybe I just had some hidden need to fucking self-destruct and destroy every single chance I was given.
Except that wasn't it, not really. Maybe that had been my subconscious motivation at first but it sure as hell wasn't now. And it hadn't been, not for the past month. The truth was, I wanted Addy. Not because I couldn't have her. Not because I was trying to prove anything.
But because I—
Fuck.
I stumbled again, caught myself as I turned the corner then stopped, the reality of what the hell I'd been ready to say—at least to myself—slamming into me.
No. Fucking. Way.
I stood there, my lungs fighting for air as sweat beaded my forehead and covered my palms. There was no way in hell I was thinking what I was thinking.
But I was.
I wanted Addy but it was so much more than that. My mind refused to let the word completely form but my heart already knew.
And now that I knew, I refused to give up so easily. Her father might want me gone—something my agent had reluctantly told me could very well happen—but I wasn't about to leave without a fight.