Facing the Music (Rosewood 1)

“Yes, really,” she said with a sarcastically flat tone. “And it worked, because I was right. You and Ivy were meant to be together. And once again, you ruined it with your foolishness! What were you thinking, staying alone in your office with a naked Lydia Whittaker? You should’ve bolted the minute she slipped a sleeve.”

Blake dropped his face into his hands. “I know. Believe me, I know.”

“You’re damn lucky, Blake.”

At that, he sat up and frowned at her. He didn’t feel lucky. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about that song.”

His grandmother rose elegantly to thumb through her iPod and dock it when she found what she was looking for. After a moment, the first few guitar notes started and he realized she was playing Ivy’s new song. He’d heard that much of it before he’d shoved Grant out onto the porch.

He moved to stand, but a stern look from his grandmother kept his rear in contact with the upholstery of his chair.

“You’ll listen to this song right now, Blake Allen Chamberlain, or I’ll have Winston restrain you and play it while you’re tied to the chair.”

Blake swallowed and relaxed back into his seat. He knew better than to call his grandmother’s bluff. If she used your middle name, it was deadly serious.

Ivy’s voice drifted from the speakers. He wanted to block it out, but there was no point. He closed his eyes and tried to pay attention, since everyone insisted he needed to. Whatever she said in this song had to be important.

And it was. Christ, it was.

This wasn’t a song about him. She was singing to him. Pouring her heart out like he’d never heard her sing before. This wasn’t the typical Ivy Hudson song. It was incredible. Romantic. Heartfelt. He was struck by the realization that she’d never stopped loving him. She might have been angry and resentful. But she’d still loved him all this time.

No wonder everyone wanted him to listen to it.

The live recording ended as the crowd cheered. The track must’ve been laid down during the concert. The part he’d missed because of Lydia.

It made his gut ache miserably to think that she’d sung that song and then, moments later, found him in another woman’s arms. That was why she was wearing his letterman jacket and they’d projected old pictures of them. That was why she’d had her guitar with her. She was going to sing it to him since he’d missed it to do an “interview.” He’d lost that beautiful moment, that opportunity to tell her he felt the same way. He’d never have back what Lydia stole from him.

“Thank you,” he said once the room was silent again.

“You’re welcome. You needed to hear it so you could understand how lucky you are.” His grandmother lowered back into her chair and crossed her ankles. “Six years ago you did cheat on her! And despite that, she still loves you.”

“Loved me. I’ve ruined it.”

“No.” She chuckled softly. “If you didn’t ruin it then, you certainly didn’t ruin it now. The difference is that last time, you let her go.”

“I didn’t—” he started to argue, but she was right. He had let her go. She’d kicked him in the balls and driven away, and he hadn’t chased after her. If he had truly loved her as much as he claimed to, he would’ve chased her across the state and fixed this.

“You have to fight for her love, Blake. You have to force her to listen to the truth and let her know you love her too much to let her walk away again. Prove to her that you’re worthy of her love.”

Blake swallowed hard. He could do that. He could book the next flight to Los Angeles and bang on her door until she either listened or had him arrested. It was a scary prospect, but his grandmother was right. He needed to fight for Ivy’s love; otherwise, he’d never deserved it to begin with.

“What if it doesn’t make any difference?” he asked. “What if she doesn’t care about how I feel for her and slams the door in my face?”

His grandmother shrugged slightly and waved her jeweled fingers in a dismissive gesture. “She won’t. And to prove how confident I am, I’m going to give you something.”

She worked at her hand for a moment until her engagement ring slipped from her finger. Blake opened his mouth to argue with her,

but she immediately silenced him with a stern look. “Your grandfather gave me this ring in 1957. It was the happiest day of my life. We had so much potential, so much time to look forward to being together. We had nearly fifty wonderful years before the cancer took him.” Her pale blue eyes were a little misty as she reminisced about his grandfather.

Placing the ring in the palm of his hand, she said, “Now it’s your turn.”

“Girl, if you don’t get dressed and get out of this house, plastic surgery rumors are going to start swirling. The only reason a celebrity goes off the grid for more than a few days is to have work done!”

Ivy instantly regretted giving Malcolm a key to her house. She didn’t budge from her spot on the couch, however. She remained a lump in front of the television, where she was six hours into an Ancient Aliens marathon.

“Are you wearing sweatpants?” Malcolm asked, his face contorted in horror.