AnnieLee rested her forehead against the window of her hotel room, gazing out at the jagged skyline, the glittering city lights, and the people rushing by far below. She felt giddy, exhausted, electrified. She couldn’t have imagined a day like this, not ever.
After walking around for hours, she and Ethan had returned to the lavish Mark Hotel on the Upper East Side, collapsed onto the sofa in her suite, and ordered room service—burgers, salads, and Cokes—which they’d devoured while watching the end of Die Hard. Then Ethan had called Ruthanna to give her the report on the ACD deal. AnnieLee heard a gleeful shriek through the phone, and not ten minutes later, a hotel attendant had appeared in the doorway with a magnum of Dom Pérignon.
Which meant that AnnieLee, who’d never tasted champagne before, was now perhaps a little bit drunk on it.
She turned her back to the view and watched Ethan noodling with her guitar on the couch. He was leaning back against the cushions with his boots on the coffee table, and there appeared to be a large spot of ketchup on his white T-shirt.
He was probably half drunk, too.
“Almost heaven, East 77th Street,” he sang, channeling John Denver.
“Velvet sofa, soft slippers for my feet,” AnnieLee sang, pushing away from the window and sitting down on the couch, a careful distance away from Ethan.
Ethan poured them both more champagne, and then he held up his glass. “A toast,” he said, “to today’s great news. And to country music’s future number one star.”
AnnieLee clinked her flute against his. “Oh, Ethan, I don’t know,” she said, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. “It doesn’t feel real.”
“Well, it is,” Ethan said. He lightly pinched her arm. “See?”
“Ow, unnecessary!” She laughed, swatting his hand away. “I mean, the deal’s real. But success isn’t guaranteed.” She took a big gulp of champagne. She couldn’t tell if the wine was making her feel better or worse, but it was delicious.
“Nothing’s guaranteed, obviously,” Ethan said. “But if you ask me, your chances of success are pretty damn good.”
AnnieLee fell back against the pillows. “I’m so tired,” she whispered.
“Maybe I should sing you a lullaby,” Ethan said. “Hush, little baby, don’t you—”
“No covers!” AnnieLee said. “Sing me one of your new ones, why don’t you? I’ll bet you’re writing all the time.”
She watched his profile as he pondered this request. From watching him at the Cat’s Paw, she knew he didn’t always like playing what he’d written; he preferred to hide behind other people’s words. That might’ve seemed strange to some, but not to AnnieLee, who’d been hiding something bigger than lyrics since long before she got to Nashville.
She scooted a little closer to him. “Come on,” she said. “You won’t find a friendlier crowd than yours truly.”
Ethan laughed. “I can think of a lot of words I’d use to describe you, but friendly isn’t way up there.”
AnnieLee crossed her arms. “Oh, really? What is?” This is going to be interesting, she thought.
“Fierce. Ornery. Stubborn—”
“I’m waiting for the compliments,” she said.
“I’m getting there!” Ethan protested. “Talented. Enthusiastic.” He hesitated. “Enigmatic. Gorgeous.”
AnnieLee felt herself blushing. “Okay, you can stop there, Blake. Otherwise I might get a big head. Just sing, why don’t you?”
“What, you’re not going to list my top qualities?” he asked.
She bit her lip. What was she supposed to say? “Well, you’re strong and you’re loyal,” she said haltingly. “And protective…”
“So’s a golden retriever.”
She threw a pillow at him. It was impossible to say more, impossible to tell him the truth—that he was handsome and kind, that he drew her to him like a magnet. That she thought his voice was one of the best sounds in the world. That when he put his arm around her, she felt his touch like an electric shock.
“Oh, just play,” she commanded.
With obvious reluctance, Ethan began to pick an unfamiliar tune. When he started to sing, his voice was barely more than a whisper.
Don’t know why I’ve been lost for so long
Why can’t I write a new life like I can write a new song?
He stopped and looked over at her. “Forget it,” he said. “It’s terrible.”