Page 23 of Waiting for Acceptance (Nashville Nights #5)

LAUREN

Tay

Okay so for the wedding, all the girls will be walking with their guys, are you good to walk on the other side of Sawyer with Leah? smile with hearts emoji

My heart sinks a little at the subtle reminder that I’m the only one without a date to Taylor and Tucker’s wedding. Then my phone rings at the same time I go to unlock it and I accidentally answer before I see the name on the screen.

Shit.

“Hello.” I take a deep breath, preparing myself for whatever is about to come through the other end of this call.

“Lauren, it’s your mother.” I roll my eyes and drop my bag in the chair next to me.

“Yes, Mother, I know. I’ve had your number saved for quite some time now actually.”

“Well, I just wasn’t sure. You could have me saved as some obscene nickname or not bother saving it at all so you can decline the call due to it being an unrecognized number.”

“Did you need something?” I ask, not having the energy to entertain her dramatics this morning.

“Well, ever since dinner the other day where you mentioned wanting someone in your life, not as much like your father and I than your friend’s parents, but someone nonetheless, your father and I have been talking?—”

“It’s a little late to put me up for adoption, Mom.” Even joking about it still stings.

“Your father and I have been talking and he heard that the Henderson’s son, Miles. Do you remember Miles?” I shake my head, my eyes popping in annoyance because does she even realize it is seven thirty in the morning?

“No, Mom, I can’t say that I do.”

“Well, your father and his father got to talking and Miles is still single, he owns his own accounting firm, graduated from Berkeley, and is very handsome.”

“Lauren?”

“Yes?”

“Well, what do you think?” This might be the first time I have ever heard my mother sound excited while on the phone with me.

“Are you trying to adopt him? ”

“Lauren Long, can you be serious for one minute. Your father gave him your number and he’s going to be contacting you soon—today even—to ask you out.

” The way the end of that sentence sounded like she was seconds away from a cartwheel is alarming, but the fact that my parents are trying to set me up —with one of my father’s business partner’s sons no less, makes me want to throw up.

“Mom, I have to go,” I say urgently, hoping she’ll think it’s unrelated to our conversation, even though it is solely because of this conversation that I need to get off the phone.

“Okay. Well, let me know what he says. Oh, this is so exciting.”

Beep beep beep.

Not even a full thirty seconds after we hang up, my phone chimes with a text alert.

Unknown Number

Hey there, this is Miles Henderson. I was told there was a lovely lady at the other end of this number that might be interested in a date this weekend? I’m out of town on business right now, but I’ll be back Friday night. Send me an address and I’ll pick you up around 7. wink emoji

I stand in my office staring at my phone screen, not even having unlocked my computer yet and I already want to scream.

I run through a million different responses I could send him, declining the date that’s being forced upon me, then think of all the misery I would suffer at family dinners for turning down someone my parents hand-picked for me from their social group without even a first date.

I grip my phone so tightly in my hands that Siri beeps, how can I help?

The robotic voice asks and it does me in—I rear back and throw my phone, causing it to crash into a photo hanging on the wall, shattering the glass and dropping to the floor.

I’m not even concerned about the noise since I’m the only one here this early.

My heart is racing, a cold sweat breaks out over my entire body and I’m trying to think of a calming technique to reel in the anger I am feeling, but my mind is completely blank.

I hold my head, my face settling between my elbows, and fight back the tears about to unleash hell on my makeup. The more I try to steady my breathing, the more ragged it becomes.

“Look at me.” Hands land on my elbows and startle me. I look up and see Fitz. “Breathe.”

“I’m. Fucking. Trying.” My voice cracks as I try talking back to him.

“That’s it, Trouble. Give it to me.” He smirks and it pisses me off.

“Get the fuck out of my office,” I scream at him, pointing to the door.

“Go ahead. Scream at me. Tell me to fuck off. Tell me how much you hate me. But for God's sake, let it out.” Then I do something unexpected.

I slap the shit out of Fitz, immediately gasping and holding my hands to my mouth when I notice he already has some bruising there.

“There you are.” He smirks at me and my eyes quickly become wet with unshed tears.

“I am so sorry. I don’t—” I blink a few times, quickly letting my tears fall and I can feel my shoulders sag—then they begin to shake. “What the fuck is wrong with me?” I laugh through the question, running my fingers through my hair as I walk farther into my office and away from Fitz.

“I’d like to know the same thing.” I look at Fitz in surprise and let out a half laugh, half scoff.

“Wow, where do I start? My best friend just text me asking if I can share a boyfriend for her wedding, my parents literally told me I would have been better off being someone else’s kid, they disapprove of pretty much everything I do with my life, and as much as I wish that didn’t bother me, it fucking does.

So when the one time they are excited about something happening in my life it’s, of course , something that’s being orchestrated by them and I don’t have the fucking balls to say no, thank you, but I do not want to date the accountant from Berkeley you picked out for me.

” I watch as he processes everything that just spewed out of me and I’m slightly mortified that I just gave this guy any more ammunition to use to make my life hell than he already had.

It’s as if I was a Diet Coke and someone dropped emotional Mentos down my throat—I couldn’t have fought the explosion that followed if I’d wanted to.

The other part of me feels a little bit lighter that I got all of that out but now I’m waiting for him to say something, anything, and it’s making me more anxious by the second.

“Your boyfriend doesn’t seem like the sharing type.” I pause at his words.

“What?”

“Well, you said your friend texted you asking if you could share him for a wedding? He doesn’t strike me as the sharing type. Very…territorial.” His jaw flexes and my brows draw together as I shake my head.

“No, I have to share my other friend’s boyfriend’s arm when we walk down the aisle because I am the only one that doesn’t have a date.

Or in this case a significant other that is related to or lifelong friends with her soon to be husband.

” I hate the bitterness I feel in my words as they leave my lips, but it’s not like it matters.

I’m talking to Fitz for God’s sake, if anything he’ll just throw my single girl meltdown back in my face during one of our petty work arguments and no one else will know how I really feel about it.

“The guard dog isn’t your boyfriend?”

“The what ?” My eyes pop curiously.

“The guy who picked you up here the day you heard me on the phone talking about the acquisition.”

“Tank? God, no. He’s married—to my best friend.

” Something flashes across Fitz’s face and I swear I see his shoulders drop.

As if he’s just relaxed for the first time since walking in here.

I get a sobering feeling when he looks at me, the noise in my brain becomes quiet as I study his softer features.

The way his eyes widen slightly when he isn’t actively trying to annoy me and the way his dark hair is so much longer now than when I first met him.

“I’ll be your date.” I let out a laugh and shake my head, rolling my eyes and when they refocus I see his eyes have narrowed again, his jaw tight and he’s closed most of the space between us.

“Something funny, Trouble?” I swallow down my laughter, feeling the weight of that nickname hit me at full force.

“Why?”

He shrugs. “Purely selfish reasons, of course.”

I scoff, “Of course.” I mull it over for a moment, giving the inside of my lip hell as I bite it so hard trying to tell myself this is a horrible idea.

“What kind of selfish reasons?”

“You’ll owe me a favor.” That could be a very simple statement or a very dangerous one.

Still, I can’t help but think spending an evening with Fitz might be better than being there alone.

Sure I’ll have my girls, but they’ll eventually start dancing with their dates and I’ll be left to man the bar and that bit is getting a little old.

I’ll be thirty in a couple of months, for crying out loud, it wouldn’t be the end of the world to take a co-worker as a date to a friend's wedding, would it?

“So it’s just a favor then, not a real date,” I state for extra clarification. His smirk damn near has me refusing this whole thing.

“Unless you want it to be.”

My eyes roll on instinct. “In your dreams, Fitzgerald.” His last step brings us so close I can practically feel his growl against my chest.

“If you keep rolling those damn baby blues at me, Trouble, I might just be inclined to make them roll for an entirely different reason.” I can practically feel my heart beating through my cheekbones and before I can say something stupid, someone clears their throat in the doorway.

“ So sorry to interrupt.” Luther . “I saw your coffee sitting out here and thought you must have set it down and forgot it.” Fitz has yet to move from in front of me, so I squeeze past where he’s got me practically pinned against the wall and smile at Luther.

I open my mouth to say something and he holds a finger up to stop me.

“Mm-mm. Later.” Then he cuts his eyes over to where Fitz is now turned around with his eyes on me like I’m his next meal. By the time I turn around, Luther is gone.

I clench my jaw and walk behind my desk, pulling my small mirror from my bag to fix the makeup I smudged while having a nervous breakdown earlier.

“Next Saturday, six o’clock. Don’t be late—and wear something nice.

” I glance over at him and see that devilish smirk on his stupidly handsome face and almost roll my eyes again.

Though I think better of it when I remember what he said just before Luther came in.

I swallow hard and put my small mirror back in my bag. “I’ll send you the address.”

“It’s a date.” This time I don’t stop the eye roll that happens before they land on the drink Luther brought in. My brows scrunch together and I pick it up.

“Wait,” I say mostly to myself, though it causes Fitz to halt in the doorway. “I didn’t get coffee this morning.” Did I? Am I losing it and forgetting that I stopped for coffee?

“Thought you needed a little bit of your spark back. Caffeine should do the trick, right?” He winks and then disappears down the hallway as I take a sip of the coffee that is my exact order made to perfection. I stand in my office replaying my morning and finally have to shake my head to clear it.

Well, he definitely brought a little spark with him this morning, but it didn’t come from the damn coffee, that’s for sure.