Page 40 of Don't Fall For A Rockstar

A short drive later, we pulled up to a fifteen-story building in the usual industrial style, tons of glass and metal, with tiny balconies that looked like they could seat two people, tops. Too minimalist for my taste, but the street seemed nice. Not much traffic, lots of trees, and a park a block away.

But as soon as we entered the building, I knew Nate would reject this one too. The place was clean but clinical. The condo was the same. It was way too boring for Nate.

Lewis’ phone chimed several times as we toured the space, but he ignored it and gave us the rundown on all the apartment features.

As we wandered around, I noticed that the bedroom had a closet that was barely big enough for one person, the bathroom didn’t have a window, and the only view in the condo was obscured by the building across the street.

“This is way too cold. All the white is giving me a headache. And if I can’t paint it, forget it. Plus, I don’t like the fact that the only decent window I have looks right across from that building,” Nate announced. “For me, this isn’t just a no. It’s a hell no. What do you think, cher?”

“I agree. This place isn’t you. And listen,” I paused and pointed to the ceiling.

Every thirty seconds or so, you could hear someone on the floor above walking around.

“Not enough insulation between units. It’s gonna be loud. And you have enough of that while touring.”

Nate glanced knowingly at Lewis. “Sorry, Lewis. It’s a no.”

Lewis nodded and pulled out his tablet. “I had one more to show you, but I just got a notification that it’s been pulled off themarket. So, that’s all we have on the calendar for today. I can research more listings and set up viewings in the next couple of days, if that works for you?”

“Sounds good,” Nate replied. “And, thanks, Lewis. I know I’m not the easiest customer to deal with.”

Lewis shook his head. “Please, compared to some of the real housewives—and husbands—of the greater Nashville area, you’re a dream. I know there’s a condo out there that’s perfect for you; we just need more time to find it.”

We left the building and said our goodbyes to Lewis.

“We’re pretty close to the restaurant I booked for dinner,” I commented. “You want to walk there? It’s a nice night. We can ride-share to Foster’s Way and back home. I can leave the truck here overnight.”

“That’s a great idea,” Nate replied. “I can get a feel for the neighborhood.”

Hand in hand, we strolled several blocks, passing art galleries, vintage stores, and several restaurants. This area was a mashup of old buildings, new storefronts, and lots of activity. Nate loved it, said it reminded him of home. I slipped my arm around his waist and listened to him talk about the place where he grew up, his family, his friends.

And the more he talked, the more I realized just how far gone I was for this man.

That’s when it hit me. Right then and there, on a busy Nashville street.

“You’ve already found the perfect place,” I blurted out. “Move in with me. Let’s make my condoourhome.”

“Tommy,” Nate whispered. “Holy shit.”

“Is that a yes?”

Nate nodded. “Yes.”

No hesitation.

Then he launched himself at me, and I nearly toppled over. Thankfully, I found my footing and squeezed him tightly in return.

“Let’s find that restaurant,” I said after I kissed him soundly. “We need to celebrate.”

We made our way to Stellina, my favorite Italian restaurant in the city, and shared a bottle of prosecco, along with the most authentic carbonara I’d eaten outside of Rome. Lennie had recommended this place, and it never disappointed.

After stuffing our faces with all the pasta, we took a rideshare to Foster’s and lined up along with the other patrons vying to get in.

A couple of guys recognized Nate, asking him for his autograph and a selfie. They were polite and respectful about it, but I still kept my arm wrapped protectively around his waist.

“And so it begins,” I said to him after the fans wandered back to join their friends.

Nate waved me off.

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