The Closer You Get (21 page)

Not exactly what she wanted to hear, and a decision she’d have
to make sooner than later. “I’m pretty stubborn, so I guess you’re not going to
get rid of me that easily. Besides, there’s no swimming pool at the old home
place.”

Brett smiled in his beautiful way. “Now you want me for my
pool.”

Cammie turned away before he could see her tears. “And don’t
forget your body.”

Once again, she went to bed alone, Brett’s words tumbling
around in her restless mind. He might never love her the way she needed to be
loved—unconditionally. Even if they somehow made it past this current bump in
the long road, she could always play second fiddle to his career. And someday
soon, she would have to choose between settling for what he could give her, or
standing her ground, even if it meant leaving him.

Just before dawn, Brett came to bed and made love to her again,
slowly, sweetly, taking his time, talking to her in soft whispers as if she was
the most important thing in the world to him—even though she acknowledged she
wasn’t and never would be. She clung to him long after it was over, fighting the
tears as he held her.

“I want to believe people can have it all,” he said, breaking
the silence. “But sometimes I think that might be too much to ask.”

“It’s not if you really love someone.” Now that pivotal moment
of truth. “And I do love you, Brett.”

Her worst fears came to pass when Brett failed to respond. The
possibility they could have a future together faded with his obvious inability
to love her back, his lack of faith in what they had, and himself.

But Cammie would still cherish these moments in his arms,
knowing in her heart they would probably be some of the last.

* * *

B
RETT
DROPPED
THE
PHONE
back onto its
cradle after hanging up from the disturbing phone call.

“Who was it?” Cammie called from the down the hall.

“Just my publicist.” A very nervous publicist. She’d spent the
past twenty minutes explaining to Brett that word was out in Nashville he and
Cammie were living together. Of course, the story appeared in two well-known
tabloids, not any of the more reputable country-music magazines.

But that wasn’t the only revelation. The topic had come up
during an interview with Mark Jensen. The jerk had said Cammie had dumped him to
pursue another singer with more status—namely Brett. He didn’t dare mention it
to Cammie. He could tell she was upset enough about not attending the award
ceremony with him tonight. In fact, she’d been upset for the past week, and he
thought he knew why, even if she wasn’t saying why.

Little by little, his life was wearing her down, as well as his
inability to commit completely to her.

She walked into the bedroom but stayed right inside the door,
arms crossed beneath her breasts, a shoulder pressed against the frame. “What
time do you have to leave?”

He took his belt from the bureau and slipped it through the
loops. “The walk-through starts in about an hour and I should be home by four.
That’s just enough time for me to come back here, get dressed and get back to
the auditorium by five-thirty for the damn red-carpet walk.”

“Then why bother to come back here? You could just take your
clothes with you.”

After he tucked in his shirt, zipped his jeans and hooked his
lucky buckle that didn’t seem so lucky anymore, he faced her. “I thought maybe
we could spend some time together.”

“Save your spare fifteen minutes, Brett. I don’t need
them.”

“Look, I know you’re mad about not going with me tonight,
but—”

She straightened and sighed. “I’m not mad. I’m resigned. This
is just the way it is. The way it will always be.”

“Not always,” he said. “I’ll have a break at the end of the
summer.”

“Two whole weeks before the CD’s released,” she reminded him,
although she didn’t have to. “Let’s not forget all the personal appearances and
press conferences and preparation for the upcoming tour. And I believe a few
more award shows where you’ll amass another dozen or so trophies.”

He didn’t feel up to explaining again the pitfalls of his
career or arguing with her over the schedule. Not when he had one of the most
important milestones hanging in the balance—his first nomination for Performer
of the Year. “Yeah, it’s going to get crazy. Nothing I haven’t dealt with
before.”

“Of course. All on your own.”

He didn’t know what to say to her to make it better, so he
chose to switch the subject, which wasn’t much better. “Tim’s still riding me
about you singing with me. What do you want me tell him?”

“No.”

“That’s it? Just no?”

She straightened and strolled into the room, keeping her
distance. “I’ve told him why I’ve never wanted this, and those reasons still
hold true. Now more than ever.”

Brett caught a glimpse at the wall clock and realized he had to
leave or show up late. “We’ll talk about this later. I’ve got to go.”

She swept her hand toward the door. “By all means, go. Far be
it for me to hold you back.”

He hated leaving her this way—so damn angry at him. He put on
his hat, picked up his keys and stood in front of her. “What are you going to do
while I’m gone?”

“I’ve got a few finishing touches to put on the guest
room.”

The project she’d been working on in secret while he’d been
taking care of business. “When am I going to get to see it?”

“I’ll be done by tonight, so you can take a look then,” she
said. “I hope you like it.”

“If you did it, I’m sure it’s great.”

“We’ll see.”

He wished she would yell at him, tell him he was a selfish
bastard. He wished she’d say she still loved him, then maybe he’d have the
courage to tell her he loved her, too. But that old saying about love sometimes
not being enough was sure enough true.

He rested his palm against her cheek, expecting her to flinch
or pull away. Luckily she didn’t. “Cammie, when I come back from the rehearsal,
we need to talk. I can’t stand seeing you so unhappy.”

She laid her hand on his and smiled, but it didn’t make it all
the way to her eyes, which were rimmed with tears. “You’re right. We do need to
talk if you can afford the time.”

Brett sensed he couldn’t afford not to make the time. “I’ll try
to get out of there early to give us plenty of time.” Maybe even enough time for
a little lovemaking. Time to show her how much she meant to him.

When Cammie said, “I’ll be here,” he wondered how long that
would remain true. He took a risk when he took her into his arms, but she held
on tightly like she didn’t want to go. He didn’t really want to go, either, but
he didn’t have much choice.

He released her and gave her a kiss, then hurried out of the
house and into his truck. For a few moments he sat there immobile, keys dangling
from the ignition. He should call Tim and tell him to find a way to get him out
of participating tonight. He could ask him to accept any awards, if he actually
earned any. Then he could stay home with Cammie and convince her that she was
more important to him. But he had obligations that he needed to fulfill in order
to stay afloat.

As he finally drove away, he had the strongest feeling that he
might regret the decision. Little by little, he saw Cammie slipping away from
him. And in some ways, she was already gone.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

S
HE
HAD
A
BORROWED
CAR
in the drive, her
packed bags in the trunk and a burden as big as the Mississippi.

While she waited for Brett’s return, Cammie sat in a chair on
the deck counting the seconds and dreading each one, knowing that in a matter of
minutes, she’d be leaving him for good. From her perch above the grounds, she
saw the black truck traveling up the lengthy drive and swallowed around the
threatening tears. For hours she’d considered what she might say. What she might
do if he tried to convince her to stay. How she would feel if he didn’t.

When Cammie heard Brett call her name, she swore her breaking
heart skipped several beats. “Out here,” she called back, her hands tightly
clasped together on the tabletop.

He opened the glass door and walked toward her, a little slower
than usual. “Is someone else here?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then whose car is that in the drive?”

“It’s a rental,” she said. “For me.”

He seemed confused for a moment before his expression turned
somber. “Why do you need it?”

“Because I’m going home.”

Brett raked the opposing chair back and sat. “For how
long?”

He either didn’t get it, or he was pretending not to.
“Permanently.”

He took off his hat and tossed it aside. “Why now? Are you
trying to punish me by dropping this on me on the most important night—”

“Of your life,” she finished for him. “And no, I’m not trying
to get back at you for not inviting me to the party. I almost left you a note,
but I thought you deserved to hear it from me face-to-face.”

He stared off toward the lake, his dark hair ruffling in the
warm breeze. “When did you decide?”

“I’ve been debating it since the night Tim came for dinner and
you said if I could live one day at a time, you wanted me to stay. I can’t do it
anymore.”

“You’re giving up on me.”

“On us, Brett. The other day I remembered something my
grandmother once told me. She said never go into a relationship thinking you’re
going to change someone.”

He finally turned his gaze to her. “I imagine you have a long
list of things you’d like to change about me.”

“Only your tendency to close yourself off to all the
possibilities, but I do understand why you do it.”

“Maybe you should enlighten me.”

She ignored his sarcasm and continued. “You’re so afraid people
are going to leave that you drive them away, making it a self-fulfilling
prophecy. You’re also afraid of opening old wounds, so you keep everyone at
emotional arm’s length.”

“I don’t like to bleed.”

“Sometimes you have to in order to heal.”

He surprisingly smiled, a sincere one. “Did you minor in
psychology?”

She smiled back even though she found it odd they could share a
little humor in such a serious situation. Or maybe that spoke to the better part
of their relationship. “I did take a few courses, but you don’t have to be a
psychologist to recognize someone who’s in a lot of pain.”

“I’m not when I’m with you,” he said. “I haven’t been able to
say that in years.”

Hearing him say that now gave her hope. False hope. “Maybe you
temporarily suspend the pain when we’re together, but it’s always going to be
there until you come to terms with your past.”

“Our past makes us who we are, good and bad. That’s something
that can’t be changed, Cammie.”

“No, but if you don’t learn from your mistakes and move
forward, then you’r
e
not living. You’re at
an impasse, and no matter how much I love you or how patient I am, until you’re
willing to deal with it, I can’t save you.”

“I’m not asking you to save me, dammit. I’m just asking you for
more time.”

“And during that time, I’d be expected to remain in the shadows
and pretend we’re not together while you allow your career to dictate your
personal choices. I can deal with your sullen moods and even your temper, but I
won’t play second fiddle while I’m hoping you’ll eventually come around.”

He fished his cell phone from his pocket. “I’m going to call
Tim right now and tell him I’m bowing out tonight.”

She laid a palm on his arm. “You can’t do that. You’ve earned
this night and you should be there.”

“But you’ve already made it clear that my career is coming
between us.”

“I would never, ever ask you to choose between me and your
career. Music’s as much a part of you as that lucky buckle.”

“Jana never understood that,” he said. “She told me not long
ago I cheated on her with my job. And she was right. But I had to keep going to
provide for her and Lacey. I didn’t have a choice.”

“You have to find a balance, Brett,” she said. “A lot of
couples figure out how to do it. They tour together and even raise their kids on
board the buses. It’s not impossible.”

He sat back and sighed. “Jana hated the road. After the baby
was born, she refused to go with me, even on shorter trips.”

She was taken aback that he decided to go into detail about his
relationship with his ex-wife. “You and I both know it’s not for everyone. They
can’t appreciate seeing sunrises and sunsets on the road or the excitement of
seeing new places and meeting new people. Some folks are just happier staying
home while the world passes them by.”

“But you’re not, which is why I don’t understand why you’re
going back to Memphis to settle in a routine that doesn’t make you happy.”

Touché. “I told you why, Brett. I owe my grandparents so
much.”

“Then I guess that means we’re both chained to our obligations
and our pasts, doesn’t it?”

He had her on that one. “Maybe it does.”

He set the phone down and took her hand in his. “There’s
nothing I can say to change your mind about staying? Or at least get you to wait
until I get home so we can talk more about it?”

If she did that, she could wind up back in bed with him, and
she’d be right back where she started. “The longer I stay, the closer I’ll get
to you, and the harder it will be to leave. It’s hard enough now as it is.”

“Baby, it’s about to kill me.”

Cammie tried unsuccessfully not to cry, but when the first tear
fell, Brett brushed it away with his thumb. “I want to hold you right now and
tell you it’s all going to be okay and promise I’ll never make you cry again. I
can’t promise that. Life’s full of tears, especially my life. But if you’ll give
me the chance, I’ll try harder to make you happy.”

She swiped at her face. “How would you do that, Brett?”

“I’ll support you in whatever you want to do about singing. I
won’t ask you to do anything you’re not comfortable doing. And I’ll make good
love to you whenever you want—all you have to do is ask. No more excuses.”

“That all sounds great, but will this be as a permanent part of
your life or as a live-in convenience?”

He let go of her hand and rubbed his jaw. “I don’t know what’s
permanent these days. I see people who look like nothing could tear them apart
and then they get married and it all goes to hell.” He leveled his gaze on hers.
“Why can’t we just be together?”

How quickly he’d forgotten the conversation with Tim. “Best I
recall, you agreed that as long as we’re living together without the benefit of
a license, it could damage your career. And since you’ve made it quite clear you
have no intention of remarrying, that puts a kink in my plans. I’m too old to go
steady the rest of my life.”

His expression went hard, unforgiving. “I’ve been through one
divorce. I don’t want another one.”

“You want a no-risk guarantee, Brett. That’s not reality. If I
thought for a second you might eventually change your mind somewhere down the
road, I’d stick it out. But until you deal with your issues, including your
relationship with your daughter, you’re never going to be open to all the
possibilities.”

He shoved his chair away and walked to the edge of the deck,
hands knitted together behind his neck. He remained silent for a while before he
faced her again. “I’m spilling my guts to you, telling you the only way I know
how that I need you in my life. But if that’s not good enough, then go back to
the family business. It’s safe. Not very exciting, but safe. That’s not me,
Cammie. And it’s not you, either.”

“Sometimes safety is preferable to constant insecurity.” She
rose from the chair and pushed it under the table. “I have to go, Brett.”

He took a few steps toward her and paused. “First, I need you
to do something for me.”

“What?”

“I want you to sing with me one more time.”

That meant saying goodbye a second time. “Brett, I don’t
think—”

“It’s two weeks from tomorrow,” he said, ignoring her impending
protests. “A few years back, I started a foundation to provide funds for
organizations that support at-risk kids with music lessons and therapeutic horse
programs. This is the annual benefit concert.”

Cammie began to comprehend exactly how much she still had to
learn about him, and that she wouldn’t have the chance. “It sounds like a great
cause, Brett. I’m glad you’re willing to give your money and your time.”

“I’ve been lucky. I just want to give back when I’ve been
handed a lot in my lifetime. It’s important to me, and that’s why I need you
there.”

She scraped her brain to come up with a good excuse to bow out.
“As much as I’d like to contribute, Sundays are busy. I’m positive my
grandfather will have me scheduled to drive. But I’m sure you’ll do just fine
raking in donations without me.”

“I need someone to sing backup,” he said. “Jerry Neill’s
signing on but he can’t join us until Jensen releases him, and that might be a
while. Technically you’re still under the original contract, so I could force
you to do it. I’d rather you do it because you think it’s the right thing.”

She paused for a moment to consider the risk in joining him
onstage again. But she couldn’t in good conscience refuse a good cause. A cause
that obviously meant a lot to him. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“I’ll have the information faxed over to you and arrange for
transportation to and from Memphis.”

She would have expected him to sound less official and more
pleased. “I’ll drive myself.”

“How do I know you’ll show up?”

“You’ll just have to trust me.”

“Guess I can do that.” He smiled, a sad one. “Like I’ve said
before, I trusted you with my life every time you drove my bus.”

She only wished she could trust him to make the necessary
changes so he could finally have some peace. “Well, I better get on the road and
you better get dressed.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

Yet neither of them made a move. They just stood there for a
long moment and stared at each other. Cammie wanted so badly to hold him one
last time, but she feared she might not let go. But when Brett pulled her into
his arms, she put aside her worries and captured these moments to add to her
memory bank. Memories of the first time he’d held her, that first awkward kiss,
that night they’d made love and every time since. She would have to rely on
those recollections to get her through the next few weeks without him. And in
order to start the process, she needed to leave immediately.

But when Cammie attempted to end the embrace, Brett held on
tighter, brought his lips to her ear and whispered, “I do love you, baby. I just
wish I could love you better.”

The waterworks started then, hot tears that fell from her eyes,
dampening Brett’s shirt where she rested her cheek against his chest. And he
continued to hang on to her until she found the strength to compose herself, and
prayed for the strength to walk away.

“I have to go,” she said as she worked out of his grasp and
backed toward the door.

He didn’t put up a fight or beg her to stay. He did look
resigned. “Drive safe, Cammie. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”

He suddenly seemed so civil, and so detached. Maybe that was
best for both of them. But before she left, Cammie had a request for him.
“Please call your daughter, Brett, and don’t wait too long.”

She saw a flicker of pain in his blue eyes. “I’ll think about
it.”

As she turned to go, she remembered something else she needed
to say. She faced him again and smiled. “And good luck tonight. I hope you
win.”

* * *

“A
ND
THE
WINNER
IS
...
Brett Taylor.”

For a moment—it seemed like hours—Brett didn’t move. He’d been
practically paralyzed from the reality of earning the industry’s top honor. Then
Tim appeared from nowhere and shook his hand. With Rusty, Bull and Jeremy
trailing behind him, he realized he was moving in the direction of the stage,
although he didn’t remember standing. People slapped him on the back, shook his
hand, hugged him. He ascended the steps and somehow made it to the podium,
running on autopilot. He took the award from the woman onstage and greeted the
presenters, who backed away so he could speak.

Funny, he hadn’t even prepared a speech. But he knew what he
needed to say before all these people now waiting for his words of
gratitude.

He cleared his throat before he spoke. “I want to thank
everyone involved in my career...” He listed his manager, producers, the fans,
the band now standing behind him and, lastly, Pat. After he was done, he paused
to look over the masses. With the exception of a random cough or the occasional
whistle coming from fans seated in the balcony, the crowd remained quiet. He
looked at the faces with detachment, not really seeing anyone. Cammie’s face was
the only one he cared to see. But she was long gone, from town and his life.

Then it struck him. None of this mattered much anymore. Not the
accolades. Not the fame or the fortune. Only the woman he loved like crazy and
the daughter he’d left behind.