Anything You Want (31 page)

He wasn’t sure if he was comforting, rewarding or simply distracting Sabrina, but no matter which it was, food seemed the best answer.

“For something you’re going to make? Always.” She rolled and sat up on the edge of the bed in one fluid movement.

Her words made him grin—it was always nice to be appreciated—and her naked back made him hard. “Cover up or we won’t get far,” he growled, rolling in the opposite direction even as his body felt a definite pull toward her.

She gave him a naughty smile over one shoulder. “My stomach is only one part of my body I’d like you to take care of.”

He groaned but made himself pull running shorts on over his already growing erection. “I want enough calories in you so you can keep up,” he told her.

He watched her pull her shorts and shirt on without bra or panties. He hadn’t noticed before—he’d been far too distracted by the physical need roaring through him—but her stomach wasn’t completely flat anymore. She didn’t look pregnant exactly, but she had a roundness that hadn’t ever been there before. Having never seen her breasts before Wyoming he wasn’t sure if they were heavier, but from what he’d read, they would be by now.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, looking over at him.

I want you and your baby and your everything.

But he didn’t say that. He wanted to watch her tummy grow, wanted to be able to compare day to day how her body changed. He wanted to watch her change too, as motherhood would surely add to her personality. He was curious how she would react when her child started walking, or when he or she first learned to read. He wanted to tease her and laugh with her and support her and tell her she was amazing.

But all he said was, “I’m starving.”

She let it go and followed him down to the kitchen where she pulled herself up to sit on the counter while he got busy.

They’d had amazing hot sex right there in that kitchen but all Marc could think was how much he was going to love cooking for her. She’d eaten at The Camelot, of course, and he’d cooked for his roommates in college, including Luke, which meant Sabrina had been there frequently. But this would be different. He’d be cooking specifically for her. To please her.

He started the angel hair pasta boiling and gathered the ingredients for a red sauce with shrimp. He wanted to put the conversation off until after she ate. Stupidly. He wanted her to smile about him and something he’d done for her before they started arguing about Nashville.

They didn’t say much for a few minutes, but he was acutely aware of her eyes on him, how her bare feet swung, how deep her breaths were, how hard her nipples were under her shirt.

When he finally set a plate on the center island, she slid to the floor. “Holy crap. I want to move in.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Yeah?”

“Great food and amazing sex?” she asked. “Oh, yeah.”

She took a bite and sighed in appreciation. Before he could say,
Let’s go get your bags
, he said, “I took a phone message for you earlier at The Camelot.”

“Really?” She took another bite and he paused to watch her savor it. “Who from?” she asked after she swallowed.

“Scott.”

She looked confused. “Scott who?”

Marc suddenly had no appetite. He pushed his plate back. It was too bad. He liked this dish a lot. “He’s with Next Stop Nashville.”

She swallowed her bite of food and said, “I’ve been meaning to call them, I just—”

“You haven’t called them yet to say you weren’t coming?” She wanted to go. He knew it.

“Not yet.”

“Have you checked the website?” He’d seen how tempted she’d seemed by his laptop the other night.

She didn’t look up. “Just once. Or twice.”

It was very confusing to have half of his heart thrilled that she was interested in the whole thing while the other half clenched with the realization that she was willing to leave after all.

“But why’d he call you?” she asked, lifting her head to look at him.

“Because I put myself down as the contact when I called to confirm that you were coming.”

“You called them?”

“After I assumed you’d called to say no.”

“But— Wow.”

He took a deep breath. He wanted her to know that she was amazing and others thought so too. He wanted to be excited. He was but…he didn’t want to lose her. Sabrina belonged in Nashville, he knew that, but he could admit that there was a part of him that would love to keep her with him, whatever it took, forever. Finally, he understood Luke wanting to keep her even if her heart wasn’t fully in it. Having even part of Sabrina’s heart was tempting.

It was ironic. For years it had driven him crazy that Luke couldn’t shake her. Now, as hard as Marc had tried to keep them apart, he’d ended up feeling the same way.

He loved her. And because of that he couldn’t keep her. Loving her meant wanting her happy. Which meant he had to let her go. If she stayed, he’d never know if she would eventually want to go, or if she was wishing for more, or if she was regretting staying. He couldn’t live with that. He couldn’t live with her being anything less than everything she could be, as happy and fulfilled as possible. Marc knew that Luke’s hatred for her music meant that it wasn’t true love that he felt for her. But true love was exactly what Marc felt, because he loved what the music did to and for her, and he wanted her to have it. No matter what that meant for him.

“You have to be there by four p.m. tomorrow.”

“There’s no way I can be in Nashville by four p.m. tomorrow.”

“Actually you have a nine fifty-two flight out of Alliance tomorrow morning. You’ll go through Denver and be in Nashville in plenty of time.”

She was staring at him like she’d never seen him before. “What are you talking about?”

“I made all the arrangements.”

“I’m— I can’t. I’m having a baby, remember?”

“Being pregnant doesn’t affect your vocal chords. That’s been quite clear to everyone over the past few days. You don’t have to give anything up. In fact, you have a chance at an even better, bigger, life.”

Marc felt like he was having a heart attack. His chest was tight and his heart hurt.

She had to do this and he, evidently, had to make her.

Instead of holding onto her as tight as he could—like Luke had tried to—Marc wanted to make her go. That had to be better than watching her stay and knowing she wished she’d gone.

“I thought that—” Her gaze dropped to her plate, then came back up to his face. “I thought something was happening here. With us.”

This was it. He’d known it would come to this. Of course she thought something was happening with them. Because it was. He was in love with her. And he was pretty sure she felt the same way.

If he told her he was in love with her and wanted to be a father to her child, she would settle with him. He knew that. And it was really tempting. He wanted her, there was no doubt in his mind. But telling her that, giving her that stability, would mean she would never go to Nashville.

And she’d always be missing something.

He couldn’t handle that.

She’d been brave enough to leave before, to try, to dream. But there was one thing she hadn’t fully done on her own—she had to see that she could come out on top. All by herself.

She was going to have to go to Nashville without him.

“We’ve had some amazing sex, I’ll give you that,” he said with a fake cocky smile.

She frowned. “Yes we have.” She paused, as if waiting for him to insert something else. When he didn’t she said, “That’s it?”

Of course it wasn’t it and he was going to have to lie his ass off.

“Well, we’ve had some laughs too. I love flirting with you, hanging out with you. But I get it, Seattle. This isn’t where you belong. Don’t worry. It’s not like I was thinking this was long term.”

There was a sour taste in his mouth and he doubted his ability to truly pull this off. He needed to get off of the topic of his feelings for her or he was definitely going to cave.

Something had been bugging him for a while about her singing career—or lack of it—so he went there instead. “What’s with Seattle anyway?” he asked. “Why’d you go that way?”

She looked puzzled. “What way?”

“You sing country. Why go west? Why not Nashville from the beginning? Or even Texas, for God’s sake?”

“The band I left with wasn’t country.”

“But you only stayed with them for a year. What about after that?”

She dropped her eyes back to her plate. “I was settled.”

“You’ve never been settled, Sabrina.” He knew the use of her name instead of his nickname got her attention. “You haven’t had a steady job, a steady band, a steady roommate, a steady guy. What are you looking for?”

She met his eyes again. “I don’t know.”

“What do you want?”

She pressed her lips together. Then said, “A place that feels like home should feel.”

Marc silently cursed. He knew exactly what home felt like. He’d been lucky enough to have two. And time in between to truly appreciate having them.

She should have had it too. She’d had her dad, a house, a hometown. But it had never been real or lasting or deep. So she’d gone looking.

“You have to keep looking until you find what you want, where you should be.”

She shook her head and sat up straighter. “I’m good here. And I’m going to be a mom and now it’s about making a home for my child.”

She was right. But he also knew, from experience, that wherever she was would be home for that child. Wherever the love was, was home.

Marc’s hand hit the counter. “You’re going to Nashville.”

“No.”

“You’re going to do everything you can to make this happen,” he said pointing a finger at her nose.

“I—”

“You can’t stay here,” he finally said. “You know that.” She had to know that. She had to feel it in her gut. And her heart.

“I want—”

He was desperate. All she had to do was blurt out that she was in love with him and he’d be a goner. He’d propose and whisk her off the church tomorrow and then they’d both be stuck wondering
what if?
for the rest of their lives.

This was going to hurt—both of them—but it was necessary. “Listen,” he said, able to look at her and lie only because he did truly love her more than anything. “There’s no reason to stay now. Kat’s checked you over, you have a spot in the competition, some money. It’s time to go.”

“So upstairs earlier was—”

What I’m going to think about every night for the rest of my life.
He managed to shrug.
“Fun. I told you that you’re the best I’ve ever had. That’s the truth.” The whole truth. “Why would I pass up something you were so willing to give? Shit, Seattle, give me a little credit for being that smart.” He sounded like a total dick. He didn’t like himself at all at the moment.

She looked like she felt the same. “And what about all the baby stuff? You learning all that stuff about the pregnancy and everything?”

“I couldn’t let you think Luke was some big hero. Hell, anyone who can read can learn that stuff. I had to show you that he wasn’t doing anything special.” He was definitely a huge dick. He’d punch himself if he could. But he couldn’t tell her the truth—that he wanted to know everything about all she was going through. It had nothing to do with one-upping Luke, or making him look bad, or making Marc look good. It had been pure curiosity and interest. Period.

Sabrina’s expression was a combination of hurt, shock and anger. He was really glad there were no rolling pins lying around. He had no doubt she’d threaten to use it, and it wouldn’t turn out quite as well as last time had.

“And telling me that I should name the baby Patrick? Or Abigail?”

Her voice broke on his mother’s name and Marc had to suck in a quick breath. Fuck. Hurting her was like carving out his own heart.

Somehow—he had no idea how—he managed another shrug. “Had to trump whatever Luke was going to come up with.”

Luke had been the farthest thing from his mind when he’d offered his parents names up as possibilities. He’d love nothing more than to have Sabrina’s daughter named after his mom.

God, he had to get this over with or he was going to be on his knees begging her to let him be part of her life, to stay, to give up everything for him.

She studied him without a word. Then she nodded, lay her fork down and took a deep breath. The next thing he knew, a fistful of angel hair pasta and red sauce hit him square in the chest.

“You might want to make a note of not keeping hard things, like apples or coconuts, on this counter if you’re going to keep being such an asshole.”

Then she turned, padded to the door in her bare feet and pulled it open. She stepped into the evening and shut the door behind her. He heard her car start a moment later.

That was when he let himself unclench the hold he had on the edge of the island and take a deep breath. In spite of the red-hot fire poker that seemed to have been jammed through his heart.

Because he realized that she wouldn’t be in his kitchen to throw things at him anymore anyway.

Sabrina was amazed by how much it hurt.

She had her suitcase open, a few things thrown in, but she couldn’t concentrate on packing. She had no idea about the weather in Tennessee, hadn’t thought about how long she’d be gone, or what she should wear.

If only she could be angry. Or excited to go to Nashville. Or not care where she lived one way or the other as she had over the past four years.

Until a few weeks ago, the idea of an all-expenses paid trip to Nashville for several days with fellow music-junkies, whether she was performing or not, would have been a thrill. She would have begged for a ride to the airport. Even when she’d gotten the letter from Next Stop Nashville she’d considered going. In fact, she hadn’t really stopped considering it.

But now there were a whole bunch of things making Justice more appealing.

Now there were things that Justice had that Nashville didn’t.

And she was so beyond angry. So beyond hurt.

She hadn’t wanted to believe the things he’d been saying to her, but he’d kept going. He knew he was hurting her and he’d kept going. He wanted her to leave. Maybe for a lot of reasons. Maybe just one. Maybe because of Luke. Maybe not.