Never is a Promise(25)

Her pen stopped mid-swirl. “Right.”

“I did,” I said. “I thought about you damn near every single night.”

“Who’s Daisy?” Her question was the journalistic equivalent of a surprise left hook.

“I thought you didn’t do any research on me.”

“I didn’t.” She lifted her chin, suddenly more focused than a minute earlier. “Mom mentioned you were engaged or married or something to some girl named Daisy. You said you were lonely, so I was curious.”

Her question felt more personal than journalistic. “She’s an ex-fiancée.”

Daisy Foxworthy was a lot of things, but she could never be Dakota Andrews. A perky cheerleader type with the kind of bubbly personality that would make a man forget his pain from time to time, she was everything Dakota Andrews wasn’t. That’s why I was drawn to her. I needed something different. I needed something to make me forget her. Dakota Andrews was the snakebite and Daisy Foxworthy was the anti-venom. Or at least that’s what I told myself before I wised up and realized there would never be a cure nor a substitute for the thing I needed most.

“I assume your lifestyle wasn’t conducive to having healthy relationships?” she asked.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” I smirked. “If you want to know why it didn’t work out with Daisy and me, then by all means, ask. I told your producer nothing was off the table.” I stood up, retrieving a couple beers from the kitchen and handing one to her. “Trust me. You’re going to want this.”

I popped the top off and handed her the bottle as misty fizz evaporated from the top.

“It’s just a simple question,” she said. “Many of our fans are interested in your personal life and why relationships didn’t work out. That sort of thing.”

“Fans, huh.” I took a swig and rested my elbow against my knee, hunching forward and staring at the pretty little thing trying so desperately to pretend she didn’t still give a damn about me.

“You think I’m being indirect with you. I’m not. Research has shown that fans like to be able to envision themselves with their favorite celebrities,” she asserted. “Discussing failed relationships make you appear real and genuine. It lifts that veil that so few public figures ever lift. It makes you feel attainable, if only as a fantasy. Our viewers will enjoy this information. Believe me.”

“Viewers.” I took another swig.

“Your fans. Your loyal fans. The ones who are distraught and heartbroken over your retirement.”

“I’m not retiring completely. I’m just retiring from performances. I’m still going to write songs. I’ll just let the young bucks and newcomers sing ‘em for me instead.”

She scribbled on her paper. “Good to know. See, that’s the kind of information I need. Anyway, trust me, I don’t want to hear about your failed relationship with Daisy, but our viewers will. So please. Enlighten me.”

“I met her at a tour stop in Mississippi,” I said. “She was working at a bar we went to after a show, and we hit it off. She left that city with me that night and never went back until I called off our engagement.”

“How long were you together?”

“Maybe two, three years,” I said. “We had a good time and she was a sweet girl, but in the end, she wasn’t that great love of my life and it wouldn’t have been fair to her. I wanted to marry her because I thought she could fix me.”

“Fix you?” Her lip curled up on the side, as if she found it humorous that I declared myself to be broken.

If she only knew.

“I thought she could make me love someone again the way I loved you.”

Dakota swallowed audibly, clicking her pen and setting it aside before stopping the recorder. She glanced up at me, her hard façade fading into a girl with glassy eyes and the saddest smile I’d ever seen.

“What are you doing?” Her voice crackled softly like a gentle fire.

“This is me, Kota,” I said. “This is me honoring my promise. This is me coming back for you.”





Addison always gave me a hard time for being so cold. She said I was hard like a diamond; that I refused to let people in and show them my flaws. Cracks in diamonds made them weak. I spent my entire adult life convincing myself, and everyone around me, that I was strong. I never let the cracks show.

And once I married into Harrison’s family, I realized they were all diamonds too; hard and shiny and polished exteriors, hiding their cracks from the rest of the world. It was what people in the Manhattan Elite did. For the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged. I had a place in the world amongst other people who knew how to pretend like everything was fine all the time no matter what, especially when it wasn’t.