Snowed In with Her Ex

by Andrea Laurence

  There was a sadness in Amelia’s eyes as Bree spoke, convincing her that her friend understood how she felt. For a bridal company, they were four women completely miserable at relationships. Bree had apparently been in love with Ian all these years, so her attempts at dating were failures. Amelia was always searching for the big sweeping romance that might not even exist. Gretchen was more comfortable with her art than with men. And Natalie...she didn’t even believe in love. They were a sad group.

  “Well, I’m sorry everything went down that way. I promise we won’t end up forty and alone. What do you say you and I go out on Wednesday night? We might even be able to talk Gretchen into coming. It might cheer you up to get your mind off things.”

  Bree’s eyes widened. Natalie, Gretchen and Amelia had been her friends long before they were business partners, but over the years, the work had taken over their free time. They hadn’t gone out for anything more than a working lunch or vendor meeting for a very long time. To go out for drinks in the evening, just for fun, was almost unheard of anymore. Amelia must really be worried about her.

  She sighed. Maybe Amelia was right to be worried. “Okay. That sounds fun,” she agreed, although her tone was flat and unconvinced. She would make sure it was fun, whether it took too much wine or the dreaded tequila to loosen her up.

  “Great,” Amelia said with a bright smile. “I’ll let you get back to work. Here’s your mail.” She dropped a couple items onto her desk and slipped back into the hallway.

  After all that, Bree wasn’t quite ready to return to shot after shot of someone else’s happy, romantic day. Instead, she picked up her mail and sorted through it. There was a thank-you note from a recently married couple who adored their wedding photos, a catalog for a photography supply website where she liked to shop and some junk mail.

  The last piece of junk mail caught her eye before she tossed it into the trash. It was a postcard for a bar downtown. She’d never even been to that bar before, so she couldn’t imagine how she’d gotten on their mailing list.

  Frowning, she flipped over the card. It was advertising a special event on Wednesday. For a moment, her eyes flicked over the words without processing them. Then her heart leaped in her chest and she read it again.

  Dollar-beer Wednesdays. No cover charge. Musical entertainment from seven to nine by singer/songwriter Ian Lawson.

  That was interesting. She stared at the card for several moments, waiting for her vision to clear and the words to change. When they didn’t, she had to come to terms with what it meant. Ian had found a way to make room in his life for his music. It seemed it was easier than making room in his life for her.

  With a sigh, she held the postcard out over the trash can and dropped it in with the rest of the junk mail.

  Good for him.

  Twelve

  “She’s not coming.”

  “Relax,” Keith assured him and handed him his guitar. “The set doesn’t start for ten more minutes. She’s coming, even if just out of morbid curiosity.”

  Ian’s talent manager at SpinTrax had stepped in to help Ian kick off his new musical career. At the moment, he was serving as his manager, agent, roadie and moral supporter, and all out of the goodness of his heart. Tonight they were playing for fifty bucks and free beer.

  So maybe not entirely out of the goodness of his heart. Keith really liked beer.

  “No. She’s not going to come,” Ian insisted, voicing his fears. “She’s too angry with me.”

  He hadn’t gone out on a limb and booked this show for her. He’d done it for himself, but if she wasn’t here to witness it, it wouldn’t feel as important. She was the reason he was here. She planted the seed in his mind, pushed him to think outside of the box he’d forced himself into. She was right, of course. He needed to do this. He couldn’t suppress the music inside of him any longer.

  His future was full of possibilities tonight. There wasn’t a fork in the road; there was a starburst. This show might lead to other bookings or it might be his last performance. He might end up only playing for personal enjoyment. He might land his own record deal. Maybe he’d try focusing on songwriting and see if he could sell his songs for other people to sing. It didn’t matter. The point was that he was trying. He was putting himself out there, making time in his life for something other than work.

  He thought for certain that no matter how she felt about their relationship, she would come to support his music. Or at the very least, come just to rub it in that she was right. Or outright heckle him from the crowd.

  And there was a crowd. More than he’d expected to see. It was a good thing he’d done nothing but practice all week. A few tables were scattered throughout with some people at the bar and others standing near the back. Even with all those people, he knew Bree wasn’t here. He’d know the moment she arrived. He could feel it when she was near to him. And right now, all he could feel was sick to his stomach.

  “Maybe she’ll do what you did and show up three minutes before it’s over. It would serve you right,” Keith noted.

  Ian narrowed his gaze at him. “Whose side are you on?”

  Keith smiled. “Yours. I’m trying to distract you from your nerves.”

  Ian opened his mouth to argue that he wasn’t nervous, but that wasn’t true. He hadn’t performed for more than one person at a time for almost a decade. To go from that to a bar packed with one hundred drunk critics was a little unnerving. More than a little. He was a mess.

  Doubts pounded at him from all directions. What was he doing here? He was a record executive. He had no business playing at a bar. He had no business playing anywhere. This was going to be a disaster, but he still had a chance to avert it. Would anyone notice if he slipped out the back?

  “Maybe this was a mistake.”

  “The only mistake would be you walking out and pissing off a bunch of people who came for some good music.” Keith leaned in and patted him on the shoulder. “You’re good. I wouldn’t tell you that if it wasn’t true.”

  Ian knew that. He’d personally witnessed Keith destroy the dreams of countless wannabe musicians. If you weren’t good enough, he would tell you. That was why he’d gone straight to Keith when he decided to give his music another shot. If he was delusional and Bree was just coddling him, Keith would say as much. Instead, his talent manager had crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes and when the song was done—he’d smiled. It had been damn stressful, but Keith had liked it.

  And now, here Ian was. The small platform in the corner of the bar had a stool, a microphone and an amplifier to plug into his new electric acoustic guitar. They’d done a sound check before most people came into the bar and everything was ready to go.

  “It’s time. Knock ’em dead,” Keith said.

  Ian nodded and went up onto the platform. Adjusting his guitar, he scanned the crowd again but still no Bree. He tried not to let that get him down. There were a hundred other people in the bar who expected a good show, whether his ex-girlfriend showed up or not.

  Leaning into the microphone, Ian introduced himself and thanked everyone for coming. There were a few rowdy “whoops” from the crowd, but they settled down as soon as he started to play. He opened with his acoustic version of “Layla” to get the crowd warmed up.

  Five songs into the set, he looked up and saw a group of women pushing their way over to an empty table near the back. He finished his song and watched them settle in as the crowd applauded. There was a shorter girl with curly dark hair, a fiery redhead, a brunette with a sleek ponytail and a blonde whose face he couldn’t see.

  It was Bree. In that moment, she turned to look at him, her eyes widening with surprise. Her gaze flicked from him to the redhead. She smacked her friend on the shoulder, her lips moving rapidly with angry words. She tried standing up again, but a woman on each side grabbed her arms and tug
ged her back into the chair.

  Apparently she had not planned to come see him tonight. The redhead had lured her here. He’d have to buy Bree’s friend a drink later.

  Taking a deep breath, Ian decided to play “I’ll Love You Forever” for his next song. It was a risk. If she truly didn’t want to sit through his show, this song would push her out the door. If she stayed, she might be receptive to the other tune he had in store for later tonight.

  He started in on the song he’d written for her all those years ago. His gaze flicked over her, noting a stiffness in her posture, but she hadn’t left. She was listening intently, a drink in her hand. He sang as sincerely as he could, and by the end of the song, she had relaxed with a small smile curling her lips.

  The applause for that song was bigger than any other one so far. Given it was an original they’d never heard before, he felt a boost of confidence surge through him.

  “That song,” Ian said into the microphone, “was written for my college sweetheart. I promised her that I would love her forever. As many of us know, life can get in the way of our plans. We didn’t stay together, but I kept my promise. I have never, ever stopped loving her. Even years later, no other woman has touched my heart the way she does.”

  Bree’s wary blue gaze was focused on him the entire time he spoke. Her expression was painfully neutral, not allowing him insight into what she was thinking or feeling about his words. All he could do was charge forward.

  “That lovely lady,” Ian continued, “is here tonight. I won’t embarrass her by pointing her out, but I wanted everyone to know because this next song is about her, too. It’s a new song, one I wrote over the past few weeks that we’ve been apart. You see, I was an idiot, as the male of the species tends to be, and I screwed up my second chance with her.”

  In response to his confession there was a rumble in the crowd, punctuated by a woman’s loud shout of “Men suck!” from the bar.

  Ian laughed, thankful it wasn’t Bree who’d shouted it. “Sometimes we do. I won’t argue that. Being miserable and alone inspired me to write this song.” His gaze traveled back to Bree. “I wrote it in the hopes that she would hear it, realize how much I love her and give me another chance.”

  Bree’s pink lips parted slightly as though she were sucking in a gasp of air. He wasn’t quite sure what to think of it. She hadn’t rushed into his arms, but she hadn’t left. She seemed receptive, even though he’d hurt her. That’s all he could ask for.

  “If she doesn’t, you can come home with me!” another woman shouted from a table on the right.

  Ian smiled at her and started strumming his guitar. “Well, thank you, sweetheart. It’s always good to have a backup plan,” he replied to a chorus of laughter from the crowd. “The song I wrote for her is called ‘Love Me Anyway.’”

  This was the moment that counted. How Bree received this song would determine how the rest of the night would play out. There were several possible outcomes, the best being walking out of here with Bree forgiving him and agreeing to marry him. The worst, with Bree leaving with her girlfriends and Ian getting drunk and going home with the mouthy brunette.

  The song was fast-paced and humorous. It wasn’t like any song he’d written before. The lyrics were nothing more than a laundry list of his flaws set to a catchy melody. He was certain Bree was aware of each of them, even if she had been too polite to point them out. He knew he worked too much. He needed help prioritizing his life. He needed to have more fun and less stress. He ate too much junk food. He snored louder than a rabid badger during allergy season. He had weirdly shaped toes. Nobody was perfect. But he loved her more than anything else in the world. The chorus announced that he was a work in progress and then asked her to love him despite all that.

  That part earned him a round of applause from the crowd and a smile from Bree. The second verse was more of a risk. It was a list of her flaws. She was an emotional live wire. She hogged the covers. She owned a cell phone that had previously belonged to Fred Flintstone. She cheated at Scrabble. She always thought she was right. She was pushy and could nag a man into his grave. Last, she had the ability to see right through him, making him absolutely insane.

  But he loved her, anyway.

  They were both works in progress and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her no matter how long their lists of flaws became. If they improved over the years and ended up polished like diamonds when they were older, great. But if they just got fat together and bickered over the little things twenty-four hours a day, that was great, too. He just wanted to be with her, just as she was, and he hoped she felt the same way.

  Every word was true. As he finished playing the last few chords of the song, he looked up to find Bree smiling through her tears. Bingo.

  The crowd stood to applaud the song, blocking his view of her. Shouts of “forgive him” could be heard over the roar. Ian didn’t wait for the applause to stop before he left the stage. He unplugged his guitar and stepped down into the sea of people and tables.

  His chest was tight with excitement and his brain swirled with scenarios as he finally reached her table. Suddenly, he realized something wasn’t right. He was in the right place, but there was no tearful, smiling blonde waiting for him with open arms.

  Bree was gone.

  * * *

  Bree had to get out of there. She couldn’t breathe. The rush of emotions and the swell of the applause had combined to press against her chest like an anvil. She’d bolted before the other girls could stop her, hitting an emergency exit door and dashing into the alley behind the bar.

  The air was cold and stung as it rushed in and out of her lungs, but she didn’t care. It was better than being in there. Listening to him tell her how much he loved her and asking if she would do the same. She didn’t know what to say. She did love him, despite his weird toes and his workaholic tendencies. She wished she didn’t, but she did.

  She sagged back against the brick facade of the building, her burgundy leather jacket protecting her from the rough surface. All the energy she had was sucked out by the emotional upheaval, leaving her legs feeling like quivering gelatin as the building held her up. She needed to pull herself together. One of the girls would follow her out here eventually. Standing in an alley sobbing was not healthy.

  Bree wiped away her tears and dropped her face into her hands. How had this happened? This was supposed to be a night on the town with her friends to forget about Ian. Instead, Amelia had tricked her into coming here, saying she wanted to try this new place she’d seen but with a name she couldn’t remember. Bree didn’t even realize they were at the same place on the same night until she heard him playing on the small stage. The snoop had read her mail.

  Betrayal. She was calling Amelia “Brutus” from now on. A wicked, redheaded meddler! Bree had tried to leave the moment she’d figured out what was going on, hopefully before Ian saw her, but it was no use. Amelia and Gretchen had grabbed her and tugged her into the chair. Gretchen had driven so Bree would have had to call a cab to leave. She’d also have to listen to them complain about her being a coward every day for the next year or so if she’d left.

  So she’d stayed. And look what came of it! He’d bared his heart and soul to a room full of strangers. He’d made her laugh, made her cry and made her question everything. Just when she’d finally seemed to pull herself out of the doldrums.

  The emergency exit door opened. Bree expected Natalie or Amelia to step out, but instead, it was Ian.

  He was looking amazingly handsome yet casual for his musical debut. His expensive suits were nice, but her heart fluttered at the sight of him in a tight pair of jeans. Tonight, he’d paired dark denim with a black T-shirt that fit every muscle of his ripped upper body like liquid latex had been poured over him.

  That thought made her mouth go dry in an instant. She’d already sucked down two drinks since
she’d arrived for the same reason. Now, more than ever, she needed to be able to talk, but her tongue was like a dry wad of cotton balls in her mouth.

  “Your friends told me you ran out this way.” He watched her with curious eyes. “I guess you didn’t like the new song.”

  Bree couldn’t speak, but she shook her head. “It...was great,” she managed. And it was. The content was poignant. The melody was memorable. The accompaniment was inspired. It was a great song, even if it announced to the world that she was a cover hog and a know-it-all. She supposed that was better than telling everyone she was a world-class belcher.

  Ian took a few steps closer, a wary expression lining his face. He looked concerned that she might bolt at any moment. He needn’t worry about that. Even if her legs would work, she had no idea where she was and her ancient cell phone couldn’t look up a cab company in its Yellow Pages app. She was at Gretchen’s mercy.

  “But it didn’t change anything.” His soft words were defeated. She hated that. Ian was a powerful businessman, master of his universe, yet she felt like she could crush him with the slightest inclination. His words weren’t a question. He just assumed that she couldn’t forgive him.

  “No, it didn’t.”

  Ian’s gaze fell to the alley pavement, his shoulders slumping slightly in defeat.

  “I still love you just as much as I did before I heard it.”

  Ian’s head shot up, a lock of dark hair falling into his eyes. “What? You love me?”

  Bree nodded.

  His hands dropped to his sides in aggravation. “Then why the hell did you run? You’re giving me heart palpitations.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. It was all too much at once. I needed fresh air. Space. I needed room to think.”