Page 48 of Missed Exit

“One last trip to Coffee and Cake?”

“You distract them while I steal the fake monstera.”

“Sorry, we’re on a schedule here. I don’t have time to bail you out of jail. You’re going to have to settle for caffeine and a slice of cake.”

“I can’t wait until we have our rambling old farmhouse fully restored, and I can fill it with plants.”

“You keep ignoring me when I say this, but we are not buying a fixer-upper.”

“Listen, I promise not to sleep with any of our contractors while you’re on tour.”

“Me going on tour at this stage is magical thinking, sweetheart.”

“Lucky for you, I’m really good at that.”

“You are definitely good.” He pulls my hand to his mouth and pretends to bite it before he kisses my fingers “And I know exactly how lucky I am.”

“Take me to Nashville, you road raging psychopath.”

25

Greta

ONE YEAR LATER . . .

Lawwrestleswiththepocket door between our primary bedroom and bathroom again. If he’d open it with patience, it wouldn’t get stuck, but I’ve given up trying to convince him.

“Dammit, Greta. We have got to put a real door here,” he says. “This isn’t working.”

“That’s hundred-year-old heart pine. We are not taking it out. And it works fine. You just have to show it a little love.”

“I still don’t know how I let you talk me into this place.”

I turn and flip my skirt up over my ass.

“Oh, yeah.” He zips his suitcase. “If we didn’t live two hours outside Nashville, we wouldn’t have to pack a bag to go to a show.”

“It’s barely an hour and a half. And you love spending a few days in the city.”

“I love you. That’s why I make these sacrifices.”

“And I love you. But I also love this house.”

“Sometimes, I think you might love it more.”

“Aw, sweetie. I love you both the same.” I spin around, hoping he’s paying more attention to me than the creak of our old hardwood floors. “Do these boots look okay with this outfit or should I change?”

“You look amazing. Are you ready?”

“I’ve been ready. I was just waiting on you.”

Even with valet parking and VIP tickets, we barely make it to our seats before the lights go down.

He takes the stage like he was born to be there, and the crowd goes wild when he steps up to the mic.

“Hello, Nashville! Thank y’all for coming out tonight. And special thanks to special friends who made this life happen for me.”

His eyes find us, and Law nods discreetly. I bounce on my toes, blow him a kiss, and wave. The fact that Derringer acknowledges us like that at the opening of every show we attend is testament to his character. He was always good. He just needed to find his people.

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