Nashville is about dreams and country singers, it’s about having fun and then crying in your beer. It’s the place where an appliance salesman can walk into a recording studio and walk out the Man in Black. I should take comfort dreams come true here, but I can’t stop thinking about her.

  I walk until I run out of road. Standing on the banks of the Cumberland River, I remember the night I pulled Marley down from the railing. I should have known then what was coming, but I was too blind to see it. The brown water rushes by, and I watch the currents, thinking about what comes next. He hasn’t been in the office today. I didn’t call him. He needs to rest, and he did enough last night, saving my ass from jail.

  David says I need to fire him, but I’d never do that. At the same time, he isn’t happy here. He doesn’t want to do this work any more than Taron does. I tried to make a place for them, but I’ve got to let them go.

  It’s what I do.

  Don’t hold onto people too tightly, that way they can’t hurt you when they go.

  There’s only one person I’m holding onto, and it hurts like hell.

  She’s gone, and I have to let her go and get back in the game. But how do I go back to what I was before? How do I make myself only care about my work again? I’ve got to figure it out. I’ve worked too long and too hard for this.

  The office is dark when I return. The sun is setting, and I don’t even know why I walked back here. I should go to my empty penthouse.

  Yeah, that sounds appealing.

  Dropping into my chair, I swipe my computer to wake it up, checking to see if David’s had any luck with Hank. I should watch that YouTube video again. Watching me punch Jerry in the face, seeing his stupid face as he hits the ground, is about the only thing that makes me smile right now.

  My office phone rings, and I stare at it a moment. Sandra’s not here to screen it, but only a handful of people have my direct number. I place my hand on the receiver and let it ring once more before picking up.

  “Fletcher speaking.”

  “Patton, it’s Stephen.” At the sound of his voice, I’m on guard.

  Stephen Hastings doesn’t make casual calls.

  “I take it you saw the article?” No point in acting like we do small-talk.

  “I saw it.” His tone is clipped.

  I don’t really like waiting, so I don’t. “Well?”

  “Is it true?”

  “The majority of it is false.”

  He exhales deeply. “Which minority is true?”

  “Marley and our CPA had a… thing about five years ago. He developed a crush, I guess. I couldn’t tell if it was reciprocated…”

  “Jesus, Fletcher, that’s the worst part. Turnover is understandable. All businesses deal with it, but sexual assault? You should have fired him.”

  “There was no assault.” My voice is stern. “He kissed her a few times. I believe it was mutual affection.”

  “Then why the hush money?”

  It’s something I’ve been wondering all day. How the fuck did that get out?

  “It wasn’t hush money. I secured a loan so she could start a small business. As far as I know, she’s ignorant of the entire deal. Her lender contacted her previous employers, and when they said she was going to be denied, I asked what it would take to approve it.”

  “Why?” His tone goes low.

  Now I exhale deeply. “I wanted to help her. I felt… I wanted her to be okay.”

  The line goes quiet. He’s thinking whatever the fuck he thinks. I think about that day in the office when I told the bank I’d cover her loan. It was a change for me, helping someone outside my family. Renée had been a ditsy young woman, but Marley had loved her. I wanted to make amends.

  “I believe you.” Stephen’s voice is different. “I’ve been in situations like that myself.”

  “Okay.” I sit a little straighter.

  “We’re going to stand by you, Fletcher. You and I butt heads, but I know you’re better than what they’re saying. I’m going to give Chip Braden a call as well. I think he’ll be interested to know what kind of a man he’s hired.”

  I don’t know what to say, so I keep it professional. “Thanks, Stephen.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  We hang up, and I feel a strange mixture of relief and sadness. Is it possible I might survive this? Do I want to without her?

  Standing, I walk to the window, looking out at the lights of the city. I try to think of anything I can do to change things between us. I already extended an olive branch, albeit a secret one. Perhaps if I went there and apologized in person…

  Taking my phone off the desk, I slip it in my coat pocket. I’m just about to grab my keys when a figure enters my office. She’s quiet, dressed in all white, and I want to rub my eyes. I want to be sure I’m not asleep.

  “Rocky?”

  “Hi.” Her voice sounds so good. “I came as soon as I heard.”

  “You heard about the article?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You were worried about me?” The tiniest flicker of warmth sparks in my stomach.

  “I thought you might need backup. I’m pretty good in a fight.”

  God, I love this woman. “It’s been a bit of a shit show these last twenty-four hours.”

  “But you’re smiling. Does that mean you came through it?”

  “For now.” I walk around my desk, closer to her. “It’s possible we might have survived.”

  Her eyes go to my hand, and her lips part. “What happened to your hand?” She closes the space between us, touching me gently. It feels so good. “Is it broken?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to get it checked.” She turns my hand over and tries to move my fingers. “Ahh…” I wince, and worried blue eyes snap to mine.

  Such pretty blue eyes. My stomach tightens, and I want to trace that hair off her cheek, push it behind her ear.

  She’s here.

  Ginger and coconut.

  Her lips press into a line. “Did you punch the wall?”

  “Oh, it’s better than that.” I chuckle. “You haven’t seen the video?”

  “There’s a video?”

  “I punched Jerry.”

  Her hand flies to cover her mouth, but I see her smile. I see her eyes mist. “Sorry, but that’s awesome.”

  “That’s pretty much the general response.”

  Her hand drops to her side, and she turns away from me. “I got a call from that reporter. I told her the story was entirely false.”

  “Thanks.”

  Her eyes are on her shoes, and she hesitates. “You helped my sister get that loan?”

  Clearing my throat, I nod. “I didn’t know she had a breakdown. I’m sorry she did.”

  “She says she didn’t. She says she’s never been happier in her life.” The tone of her voice matches the surprise I feel. “You really helped her. I didn’t believe how well she’s doing until I saw it in person.”

  “I’m glad.” As I say the words, I realize how very much I mean them. “I’d like to see her. I’d like to tell her I’m sorry for what I said.”

  “You would?” Her nose wrinkles as she looks up at me.

  “Yes.”

  “That can be arranged.”

  Watching her, I remember holding her in that waterfall, her body naked and warm against mine. I remember feeling like I’d found what I’d been missing.

  I’ve got to try one last time to get her back.

  “Before you left, you said you didn’t think I was cruel.” Looking down, I rub the back of my neck with my good hand. “A long time ago, I did want to help others. It blew up in my face. It ruined three lives, and I guess I shut down.”

  I’ve never told anyone this—not even our assigned therapist.

  “Because of what happened in the jungle?” Her voice is soft.

  “Because of that… because of what happened after… I became so consumed with proving myself, proving I was as good or better than my dad. Proving I wasn’t damaged.”

  “You’re not the man I thought you were.” Our eyes meet, and hers are misty.

  “You’re right.” I want to hold her. “I was pretty wretched until you came along. You saved me, Raquel. You make me a better man.”

  I take a small step closer. “I’m in love with you.”

  Her eyes are blue pools of water. She blinks, and two tears hit her cheeks. Another step, and I’m right in front of her. I reach up and gently cup her cheeks in my hands. She doesn’t pull away.

  “I never thought I’d love anyone. I never cared about it until you walked into my life.” Her hands are on my chest, and she’s blinking quickly. “I’m no good without you. Will you give me a second chance to prove myself? I’ll never let you down again.”

  It’s quiet, but the chemistry between us is so strong. Her lips are so soft, so appealing.

  “Say something.” My voice is rough.

  Her voice is soft and high. “I’ll ramble.”

  That answer makes me smile. “At least I’ll know where I stand.”

  She lowers her chin, and I let her step back. Clearing her throat, she adopts a professional tone. “I’m going to stay here. I decided to keep Taron’s old job if the offer is still on the table.”

  “It is.”

  She steps carefully around my office as she speaks, and I drink in her beautiful form, from the beige heels she’s wearing to the white jeans with rips in the knees to the cream sweater loose on her body. She’s gorgeous.

  “I expect all those things Jerry was talking about—the raise, the ownership share, more of a voice in meetings…”

  “Of course.”

  “And I want a corner office.”

  “Done.” I guess she knows I’m ready to give her anything. My cards are on the table.

  She turns to face me, and her brow furrows. “You are different.”

  “In some ways.” I take a step closer to her. “The majority is exactly the same.”

  I’m right in front of her. The only thing separating us is her crossed arms. “What’s the same?”

  “I’m still the boss.”

  Her lips tighten, and I think she might smile. “You’re not the boss of me.”

  Now I’m fighting a smile. “You were always too independent.”

  “Can you live with that?”

  “Can I touch you?” My insides are buzzing, and I want her in my arms.

  Her arms uncross slowly. “I think we’ve reached an agreement.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  Reaching out, she traces her fingers along the sleeve of my coat. “It’s a yes, please.”

  My arms sweep around her.

  I’ve got her.

  Her soft body feels like heaven in my arms, and I close my eyes, pressing my lips to her brow, inhaling deeply of her hair. It’s like standing on the top of a mountain. It’s like facing the ocean and breathing in eternity.

  Her hand touches the back of my neck, and I dip down, finding her lips with mine. Our mouths seal together, and when our tongues touch, surges of warmth flood through my stomach. She makes a soft noise, and I need to take her home.

  “God, I’ve missed you.” It’s a low whisper in her ear as she presses her cheek to mine.

  “I love you, Patton Fletcher.”

  Jesus. I didn’t think I could feel any better, but those words almost bring me to my knees.

  Lifting my head, I find her eyes. “You do?”

  The most beautiful smile splits her cheeks, and she nods, laughing. She blinks and two more crystal tears fall onto her cheeks.

  I cup her face in my hands and wipe them away with my thumbs. “You’re going to marry me.”

  “Oh, am I?” That feisty twinkle is in her eye.

  “You are.” My arms tighten around her, pulling her closer. “None of this matters if you’re not here.”

  “Then it will be Fletcher-Morgan International.”

  A laugh breaks from my throat, and I lift my chin, holding her tighter. “God, I love you.”

  “I love you.” I feel her lips press against my neck. “I’m going to love being your wife.”

  “My little fighter.”

  My eyes close, and I think about those words. She’s my wife. She’s a fighter. She’s exactly what I need on my side.

  Maybe the fighting never stops, but with her in my corner, we can make it through the battles… no one left behind. She’s my family.

  I’ll never forget.

  The End.

  Epilogue

  Raquel

  One year later

  “You’re fluent in Arabic, French, and… Turkish? Impressive.” I flip through the résumé of the bright young man in the horn-rimmed glasses sitting across from me.

  He looks like he weighs one hundred pounds soaking wet, and I briefly consider offering him my order of Extra Matzah soup with half a Turkey Rachel sandwich. But I’m a hungry pregnant lady.

  Patton’s having coffee, and Amir, our interviewee is drinking tea.

  “I’ve picked up a little Spanish, but not much.” He seems apologetic, but Patton’s quick to reassure him.

  “The ones you’ve listed are most important. We’ve been heavily recruiting in the UAE.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I smirk at him. My husband is finally getting his wish. I’m about to take off for six months of maternity leave, and Amir Al-Tamimi from Michigan applied to be my temporary replacement.

  Patton’s like a kid finally getting the new toy he’s wanted for years.

  “I’m so sorry.” Amir looks at his watch. “I’ve got a class starting in twenty minutes.”

  “It’s perfectly fine.” I reach across the table to shake his hand. “We plan to go over our top applicants and make a decision this weekend. If that’s you, are you available to start Monday?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He does a little nod, shaking my hand.

  “Great. I’m hoping I can run our new hire through the basics before I leave.”

  “Thank you.” He turns to my husband, who has risen from his seat. They shake and he offers another thank you before heading to the door.

  As soon as he’s gone, I take a big bite of soup. It’s so good on a cool day with the chicken broth and the spicy matzo balls, I lean back and groan.

  “He’s the one.” Patton signals the waitress as soon as Amir’s out the door. “Imagine. We’ll actually have someone in the office who can tell me what they’re saying when they stop speaking French.”

  “Or English.” I take another bite of soup while he orders a tuna salad sandwich on rye. “Which they all speak.”

  “He doesn’t have a beard.”

  “He’s American, Patton. He was born in Dearborn.” Lifting his résumé, I frown. “His math scores aren’t as high as Kate’s.”

  “We’re hiring Amir. Kate doesn’t speak Arabic.” Turning to me in the booth, he puts a hand on my distended belly and leans forward to speak to it. “I’m sorry, Peaches. Your pretty mamma doesn’t have to be so gender biased.”

  “Patton Fletcher!” My voice goes higher. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  He glances up and his brown eyes sparkle with mischief. It makes my stomach tingle, and I reach out to grab his chin, pulling him closer for a quick kiss on the mouth. “You’re going to send me into premature labor.”

  “I forbid it.” He kisses me back, turning as the waitress puts his food in front of him. “We’ve got our last trip to Savannah all planned out, and Peaches has to wait.”

  “You’re not calling her Peaches. That’s a dog’s name.”

  “She’s my little Georgia peach, just like her mamma.”

  “And if she comes out frowning with dark hair and dark eyes like her sexy daddy?”

  “We’ll shove her back in and let her cook a little longer.” I cough a laugh, and he pats me on the back. “Smaller bites, Rocky.”

  “If you don’t stop saying crazy things…”

  “Let’s get this straight.” He inhales a big bite of tuna salad. “You hired Angel to head up our West Coast division…”

  “It just made sense. She’s in LA, and she’s wonderful.” I take a bite of my delicious corned turkey with cole slaw on rye.

  “Dean left, and you hired Suzy to be our receptionist…”

  “She’s Dean’s roommate. He recommended her.”

  “Then you hired Debra to be our social media manager…” He takes another big bite.

  “She has her own website and an Instagram account with more than twenty-thousand followers. Now we have an Instagram account with more than twenty-thousand followers. And she found the security breach that let Jerry access everyone’s private accounts.”

  “It wasn’t a security breach. He stole the system access key.”

  “Still, she found his digital fingerprints everywhere.”

  “Everywhere on my files. That jackass.”

  I trace a finger down the side of his collar. “And now he’s selling timeshares in Tempe.”

  “We should watch that YouTube video again.”

  My lips press together, but a short laugh escapes. “Is it wrong that I love it when you punch him in the face?”

  He slants an eye, and I grin, shaking my head. I’ve learned to pick my battles with this stubborn man. He did finally stop smoking, which was my biggest worry.

  Taking another spoonful of soup, I decide to gently bring up something new. “Hank would like to do a feature on us for Nashville Notes.” I cringe, anticipating his response.

  “No.” He sits back abruptly, wiping his mouth with the paper napkin.

  “Patton.” I put my hand on his rock-hard thigh under the table.

  “Rocky…” The warning tone in his voice fans the tingles in my stomach. To think it used to terrify me. Now it just makes me want to rip his clothes off… Or maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones.

  “He ran a retraction of that story the very next week. He’s apologized profusely and has printed nothing but glowing reports on Fletcher-Morgan ever since.”

  “He almost destroyed us.”

  “That’s an overstatement. In the time it took me to drive from Savannah to Nashville, you’d all but resolved the crisis.”

  “After twenty-four hours of hell.” He polishes off the other half of his sandwich and leans back. Looking to the side he shakes his head as if remembering something distasteful. “My dad called us tacky.”