Page 20 of Truly (Peachwood Falls #2)

L aina

I dry my hands on a kitchen towel, side-eyeing my cell phone. I haven’t had it out since I got it back a week ago. The disconnect from my life for the last ten days has been one of my life’s greatest, most glorious periods.

No stress.

No bullshit.

No decisions to be made, meetings to attend, or events to prepare for so that someone else looks like Prince Charming.

Undoubtedly, there are important things to handle, media fallout to contend with, and many questions to answer from all directions.

But I’ve been perfectly fine letting someone else, anyone else, deal with all of that.

Except in the past few days, reality has begun gnawing away at me … in so many ways .

Luke hasn’t asked me when I might leave, but he knows it’s coming. Staying indefinitely was never the plan. Then again, neither was falling in love with him again.

I was supposed to be on my honeymoon, so my calendar has been clear. But those days are dwindling, and my commitments are on the horizon … and I don’t know what that means.

Will we have a long-distance relationship? Can I cut back on my engagements to be here more? What will my security team say about me being here often?

I’m not even sure Luke locks his doors at night.

“We’ll figure it out,” I say, tossing the towel on the counter. “Trust the process.” I eye my phone again. It’s next to the coffee maker like a bomb ready to explode. Fuck . “Might as well get this over with.”

I power it on and wait for it to load. The alerts ping as soon as it connects to the towers, or whatever phones do. And they ping. And they ping. And ping again.

I missed calls from nearly every contact in my phone—from acquaintances to friends to business partners. The number of texts awaiting me is ridiculous. Maybe I’ll need a new phone number because I can’t handle that.

Anjelica is at the top of the call list with a missed one from only a few minutes ago, so I touch her name and wait for it to ring. She picks up quickly.

“Anjelica Grace.”

“Hi. It’s Laina.”

“Hey, how are you doing? Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I’m just trying to wean myself back into the real world.”

“Probably a good idea. Did you see I called or is this a coincidence?”

No censure. No anger. No frustration. Anjelica was definitely the right person to call first.

I sit at the table. “I saw you called. Although I was going to call you anyway. What’s up?”

“I’ve been working with public relations to keep a handle on things. The hubbub has started to die down. Well, it did start to die down, but your ex-fiancé decided to stoke the fire this morning.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “What do you mean?”

“Tom and your father were at a charity golf tournament this morning. According to Exposé , Tom was quoted as saying you got cold feet, and the wedding would likely happen privately.”

He what ?

I swallow down my parched throat. “What in the hell is he talking about?”

“That answers my question.”

“Which was ….”

“If something had changed and you forgot to let us know.”

I laugh angrily. “Anjelica, I assure you, I will not be marrying Tom Waverly anywhere at any time. Ever .”My hands shake. “And, of course, my father was standing right there, giving credence to Tom’s bullshit. I can’t …”

I take a deep breath before I continue with my thoughts. Because if I do what I want, a tsunami will be left in its wake.

But the longer I sit with the idea of firing my father as my business manager and removing him from every part of my business, the more it makes sense.

The more urgent it feels.

How many times have I asked for a break? How many times has he executed a contract despite my insistence that I didn’t want to be on a project? How often has he talked down to me and washed over concerns I raised about safety and money?

And now he’s playing golf with Tom? In a charity golf tournament like either of them have a heart. When I refused to marry the asshole.

I hate them both so much.

It’s not just the anger boiling inside me, though. I feel so …. betrayed. If Anjelica had said that my dad had reached out numerous times to make sure I was okay, I’d probably feel less unhinged now. But, no . He’s playing golf with the man I just walked out on as if I just got cold feet.

How would he know? There certainly wasn’t a missed call from him or Mom on my phone.

He doesn’t care about me as a person, and he can fuck right off.

I’m done.

“Can we schedule a meeting as soon as I return to Nashville?” I ask.

“When are you getting back?”

My heart is heavy. “I’m not sure. I’ll be there by the first of the week.”

“Is Monday afternoon good? Say, around three?”

“Perfect.”

“I’ll add it to your calendar,” she says. “But I have to ask—what do you want to talk about?”

My palm sweats against the phone. “I want to make some changes. I want to be more in control of my schedule. I want to see every contract and offer, and I don’t want anyone to have the authority to sign on my behalf. Not right now.”

“Am I hearing you correctly? You want to remove your father from your management team?”

“Yes,” I say, ignoring the pit in my stomach. “That’s precisely what I want. I want him off everything. Is that hard to do?”

“It’s a lot of paperwork, and we need PR to be on the ball, ready to nip any negative press in the bud. How soon do you want to do this, Laina?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Let me get with legal then and have them start the process.” She sighs. “Can you hold on, please?”

“Sure.”

The line shuffles for a few moments until I’m put on speakerphone.

“Laina, you’re on speakerphone. Coy Mason is here.”

“Hey, Laina. How are you?” he asks.

“I’m good, Coy. You?”

“I’m good. Thank you for asking.”

“Laina,” Anjelica says, “may I fill Coy in on our conversation?”

I nod. “Sure,” I say without hesitation.

Coy Mason was the biggest name in country music until a couple of years ago.

He still performs under his stage name, Kelvin McCoy, from time to time.

But much of his effort is spent running Mason Music.

For someone so big in the music world, Coy is as down-to-earth as they get.

His boutique label quickly became one of the most powerful labels in music, and I’m honored to be one of their first recording artists.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“Laina is making a couple of management decisions, namely, firing her current manager.”

Coy pauses. “Your father manages you right now, correct?”

“Yes.”

He blows out a breath. “I won’t act like this isn’t tricky, and many emotions are involved when we work with family. Trust me. I see Boone every day.”

I laugh.

He laughs, too. “How can we help you facilitate this? What do you need from us?”

“Coy, I don’t even know. I’ve just pressed pause long enough to know that I can’t keep doing things as they were.I need to build a team who cares about me.”

“I absolutely agree,” he says. “Do you have any thoughts about who you might bring on as your business manager?”

“No. I probably should have an idea before I fire my father, huh?”

“Not necessarily,” Anjelica says.

“Actually, once you decide something like this, you’re better off executing it immediately. I’ve seen stuff happen where people realize what’s going down and intentionally try to sink the ship, so to speak.”

My heartbeat begins to settle. “What will happen to everything he handled if I don’t have a replacement?”

“I want you to hire someone you’re comfortable with, obviously,” Coy says. “But have you met Hollis Hudson?”

“The songwriter?”

“Yes,” Coy says.

“No. I’ve just heard his name. Why?”

Anjelica gasps. “I didn’t think of that.”

“Hollis has been working with a few of our artists and doing one hell of a job,” Coy says. “He’s smart. Tough as nails for his clients. But a teddy bear under all that muscle. Every artist we’ve sent his way has had the same thing to say. He listens. He’s a go-getter. And he respects their wishes.”

I laugh. Does that really exist?

“I’d keep him in mind, if I were you,” Coy says. “I’d be happy to set up a meeting. And I know he’d be thrilled to support you.”

“Wow,” I say, stunned.

I’ve admired Hollis Hudson for years. And if Coy believes we’d be a good fit, then how can I refuse to consider him? I want someone who listens to me, who’ll fight for me, and who respects my wishes. Combine that with someone who knows the ins and outs of this business? Yes, please.

“If you think we’d work well together, then yes, I’d really appreciate a conversation,” I say.

“Great. If you need anything, call me,” Coy says. “But I gotta run. My wife is trying to make homemade jam today, of all things, and I promised her I’d be there to taste test them all.” He laughs. “Today is supposed to be my day off, Laina.”

“I see. Go have fun jam-tasting,” I say, laughing.

A door shuts in the distance.

“He’s always a wave of energy,” Anjelica says, chuckling. “The man is brilliant, but it takes a lot to keep up with him.”

“Sounds like it.”

“All right. I’ll get your attorneys to work, but you’ll need to touch base with them before they’ll do too much.

And no one will be alerted until you give the signal.

Then I’ll set up a meeting between us on Monday, as we discussed, and I’ll get Hollis on your calendar as early as possible next week. Does that sound good?”

“Perfect.”

She pauses. “And Laina?”

“Yeah?”

“It makes me really proud that you’re doing this. It’s been a long time coming.”

I sink back into the chair and grin. Yes, it most certainly has.

“I appreciate that, Anjelica. Thank you for having my back.”

“Always. Talk soon.”

“Goodbye.”

I turn the phone off and take a deep breath.

“It makes me really proud that you’re doing this. It’s been a long time coming.”

It makes me proud of me, too, Anjelica.

I can do this. I won’t be alone. And I can move forward with far more control over my life. And my father? Time will tell if he loves me for me or for what I bring him. Kudos. Wealth. Control.

That’s about to be taken away from you, Dad. I hope we survive the fallout.

I look out the window. What a beautiful day. I find Kennedy’s boots and head to the barn. It’s time to do some mucking. And then maybe later, when Luke gets home, it’ll be time to do something that rhymes with that.