“That was the first night that I didn’t tuck PJ into bed…”

Glancing up from the quick corrections he was making to the lyrics of a song, Howie quirked his dark brows in question at the bewildered look crossing Nick’s face. They had been working all morning on the upcoming Backstreet Boys’ album and had been allowed a small break for lunch. Between working on Hannah’s album and his group’s album, Howie used any free time to work on either project, just so the pressure would lighten. AJ and Brian had dashed out in hopes of locating the nearest and greasiest fast-food joint, Baylee and Charlotte nipping at their heels. Usually Nick would have beaten the entire group to the car, but he had lingered in the studio. So, pushing his papers aside, Howie reached for his fresh cup of lemon and honey tea, then settled back on the couch. “…What are you talking about, Nicky?”

“At her birthday party. She wanted Hannah to tuck her in…” Nick explained with a groan, knowing that he sounded overly jealous though it wasn’t the case. He had just never seen Charlotte take such a keen shine to a woman before. If anything, he was just in such a state of shock. Not to say that Hannah wasn’t an engaging woman, either. Again, it was just the way that Charlotte seemed to fall in love with Hannah. So uncharacteristic of the little girl who was adamant on keeping her daddy to herself when he had tried to date before. Of course, he wasn’t looking to date Hannah… Was he?

“She likes Hannah—”

“I know—”

Puzzled, Howie took a small sip of tea before interrupting with a look of deep concern, “Is there something wrong with that?”

“No! Hell no! Hannah’s great!” Nick blurted, knowing it was far too hasty of a reply when a knowing smirk touched his older friend’s lips. Ever since he had been termed a recluse by the local media, his friends had tried so hard to help him find love. Yet, all he ended up finding was migraines. He was happier devoting his love and attention to PJ. The only true woman in his life.  “D, don’t even think about it. You know damn well that I quit the dating seen a long time ago. PJ doesn’t do well with me dating. Or have you forgotten about Karen? PJ wanted to play pretend beauty shop with a pair of real scissors—”

“It was a hideous weave to begin with and Karen wasn’t exactly the brightest crayon in Charlie’s favorite pack of Crayola’s. Honestly believing that the scissors with metal blades were actually fake—”

“What about the stain of strained carrots on Jenny’s favorite Gucci dress? PJ was only six months during that fucking fiasco and I remember having to convince myself not to go to the hospital to remove the stiletto heel that was kicked into my crotch when I laughed!”

“Jenny was a possession-driven ego-maniac—”

“Heather being buried in sand while she was napping on the beach?”

“She was supposed to be watching Charlie while you went to get refreshments—”

“When Jess found all of her makeup smeared all over the windows of her car?”

“It washed off—”

“Or how about the day Tara almost broke her neck walking down the stairs after PJ purposely covered them with her favorite dinosaurs?”

“Nicky, they just weren’t the right women for you—”

“Face it, D… My love life has been a permanent train wreck since I got PJ. It just proves that she is happier with me and only me.”

“Then why did she ask me to make sure that Hannah becomes her new mother?” Howie questioned openly, knowing he had startled his friend when the can of Pepsi he had been tipping to his lips was pouring the fizzing liquid down the front of his shirt instead of his throat. There was a powerful curse pushed from the recesses of Nick’s lungs when he lurched upward to dry his soaked clothing, but his sapphire eyes still trained upon Howie, waiting for clarification. “I’m her Godfather, Nicky, of course she’s going to ask me for very special things. It seems that since I bought her Cinderella, she now thinks of me as the Fairy Godfather—”

“Would you get back on track?” Nick growled impatiently, slapping the wadded towel against his t-shirt as if it would soak up the soda faster. “My child told you that she wants Hannah as her mother?”

“Just this morning,” Howie confided quite proudly, taking another sip of his slowly cooling tea. “I asked her how she enjoyed her birthday and she told me about Hannah. She said that she wanted her for a Mommy—”

“Jesus Christ, I thought the kid was kidding when she told me her birthday wish!”

“So, she told you?”

“When she woke me up for her birthday kisses,” Nick explained, giving up on draining the soda from his t-shirt. Instead, he bunched up the hem and ripped it from his body, casting it toward the nearby couch. Then collapsing on the same couch, he groaned whole-heartedly and immediately sat forward in hopes to clarify, “She didn’t tell me she wanted Hannah! We didn’t even know Hannah then! Hell, I don’t even really know Hannah now—”

“Would you calm down?” Howie chuckled, reaching over to tenderly pat at his friend’s knee. The fatherly movement naturally caused Nick to scowl and swat at Howie’s hand, but he wasn’t offended. Instead, he continued to nurse his tea and observe Nick’s unusually flustered state. “It’s perfectly natural for Charlie to want a mother, especially as she’s getting older. She sees the way Kristin interacts with Mason and how mothers at our concerts treat their little girls. Though she isn’t asking those hard questions about where her mother is yet, she still knows that she’s different. It’s hard for her.”

“And it’s going to get harder,” Nick elaborated, folding his hands over his face while muttering a few more curses for the speed at which Charlotte matured. For Heaven’s sake, he finally understood why everyone called it growing pains. It hurt too much to see her grow and know that only harder times were ahead. The story of Charlotte’s birth had always been a story that he made sure to keep locked within his heart. Not even his closest friends were able to open the chambers where the dark secret lurked. He knew there would come a time when Charlotte would demand to know, but for now, he lived in an idealistic state of ignorance. He just wanted to enjoy his little girl. Not think about her hellion of a mother and where those painful memories might lead—

“Nicky…” Howie trailed softly, penetrating the younger man’s thoughts. When Nick parted his fingers to allow his gaze to fall upon Howie, the older man smiled softly. “Everything’s going to be okay. And, I’m not asking you to marry Hannah… Just yet…”

“Knowing my luck, I’ll have to wear the dress too.”

“Hannah’s not that much of a tomboy. And, though I think you two would really make a lovely couple, she’s not really looking for a romantic relationship right now.”

“…And you would know how, D?”

“None of your business, Nicky.”

“She turned you down flat,” Nick murmured with a wicked grin, his mood changing as if it were an ocean tide with the knowledge that Hannah was somewhat attainable, even if she was just in his mind’s eye.

“I’m too old for her anyway.”

“You’ve got that right—”

“For Heaven’s sake, Nicky!” Howie groaned with annoyance, pushing his cup of tea across the nearby coffee table. “Age is nothing but a number— Not that it is truly important because I am her boss and—” Releasing a grunt of impatience, he began to gather up the litter scattered over the coffee table to busy himself. “I was hoping to ask you if you’d be willing to help Hannah with her career. But you’re so egotistical and I just can’t imagine—”

“Help how?” Nick interjected, unable to help his brewing curiosity.

“We’ve released her single and it’s set to be aired on some of the most popular radio stations around, so I’ve got to get her appearances going. And, as much as I would love to be her escort, apparently I’m too old for her. So, I was thinking that—”

Nick’s sapphire eyes widened in realization and he slammed a fist against his knee. “Jesus Christ, don’t even—”

“I’m not asking you to stage some kind of horrible affair with her in front of the paparazzi! She’s too wholesome and sweet for that kind of mess. I’m just asking if you would please be her escort to the various functions. Be her friend and confidant.”

“And let the paparazzi assume we’re dating?”

“I just want you to be friends, Nicky. You haven’t been in the limelight for ages and now that we have another album being released… The media is so hungry for you and just a mere glimpse is going to turn into a frenzy! If she’s with you—”

“It’ll be a wildfire,” Nick finished with a nod.

“I even have some kids’ movies premieres lined up.”

“If Hannah and I take her, PJ will be floating.”

“Exactly.”

“But what happens if…”

“If what, Nicky?”

Holding his breath, Nick moved to stand and discard the paper towels that were still bunched in his fists. He had wanted to ask Howie what were the chances of Hannah falling in love. If it were at all possible for the media’s desire to see them together might electrify the situation and bring them closer. She was a gorgeous woman. There was no doubt. And her smile had already permeated into his dreams, but he’d never admit to that. When Charlotte mentioned her, an unfamiliar smile broke onto his face while his heart fluttered with an unidentifiable emotion. But they had barely spoken. It was even a stretch to call them acquaintances…

So, why was he thinking about falling in love? When every fiber of his being told him to stray away from such an unrealistic concept. Romantic love was for fools. Every time he tried to fall in love, he ended up getting hurt. So, then he tried to simply fulfill his lustful desires, but the consequences were dangerous. And when Charlotte appeared, he knew that his life had to straighten onto a narrow path that left no room for errors. He had to make her happy. Devote all his energy to loving her and only her. She had made life worth living. No more misgivings about falling in love. Not when he had her fragile heart to consider as well. 

But, God, was Hannah’s smile so beautiful and so promising that perhaps…

Just perhaps…

*~*~*

“You might want to enjoy this private shopping excursion as much as you can, Hannah, because you’re not going to get much more of this fun when that single of yours is released. I mean, I’m not even famous and I’m hounded by paparazzi daily. Of course, it’s twice as bad whenever Alex and I are enjoying a beautiful date. Not that I don’t enjoy the glitz and glamour of being fussed over, but I am a proper southern lady. Meaning, I do my lovin’ out behind the stables and make sure not a hair is out of place when I breeze back into the crowd.”

Unable to help the thick peal of laughter when Joanne threw a sassy hip into her side before sashaying over toward another rack of beautiful gowns, Hannah collapsed onto the plush couch and watched the expertness of Joanne’s shopping skills. She easily plucked the highest quality of clothing from the various racks and draped them upon the eager saleswoman’s arms. With each selection, she made sure to divide the clothing between the saleswoman’s arms, choosing garments for herself as well as Hannah. It had been Howie’s request that she take the young woman shopping and take the status of Hannah’s stylist. She had spent three months in the limelight with her lover and several more years in the limelight for her own profession, so she understood the importance of impressing the media. Not that it would take much to perfect the gorgeous newcomer, she was a raw beauty. A gorgeous diamond in the rough. And with some lessons on the splendid values of using makeup, Hannah would be the star that men adored and women envied. 

“You know, I’ve spent my own share of wild nights in the sweet hay,” Hannah suddenly confessed with a cheshire grin, knowing that it would immediately rouse the interest of the older woman when her focus turned from conversation to shopping. It hadn’t taken long for Hannah to sort out Joanne’s personality. Her likes and dislikes. Her attitude. In fact, Joanne was quite a charming woman. Her soft silky southern dialect only seemed to enhance her sexual appeal. Almost as charming as AJ, so it seemed logical that the two would gravitate toward one another with a powerful magnetism.

“Not adorable little Hannah Moore, Howie’s virgin Starlet!”

“I ain’t a virgin,” Hannah snorted, though her turquoise eyes widened with realization at what she was suggesting. Blushing furiously, she looked toward the array of garments being tucked into her changing room. “I ain’t trailer-park-tricks either. Like I said, I’ve had my share of romance, though the cowboy turned out to be less than that perfect eight second ride.”

“Sounds like you have one of those stories that need to be played backward in the country world,” Joanne cooed, thanking the saleswoman when she plucked only a few more garments from the colorful racks before suggesting the girls enter the large changing room. “You know, ‘you get your dog back, you get your car back, you get your first and second wives back—’”

“Rascal Flatts are one of my favorite bands,” Hannah announced with an eager smile, picking up quickly on the lyrics Joanne was quoting.

“I know,” Joanne promised, thumbing through the elegant dresses she had selected for the younger woman. “Howie sent them a tape of your single. It seems they’re very interested in collaborating with you--”

“I would absolutely die.”

“But what a wonderful death it would be,” Joanne laughed, enjoying the spark that electrified the depth of Hannah’s turquoise eyes. She was so enthralled with the magic of the music business and it was infectious. Having her around had sparked all the men’s interest in recording again. Now they gathered frequently to work on their album as well as hers. And Joann welcomed the fire, knowing she had never seen AJ so excited before. “…But what about those cowboy blues you were singing about?”

“I wasn’t singing about any cowboy blues,” Hannah objected, sliding off her tank top and frayed jean shorts to don the first dress. Pulling the soft material over her head, she wriggled slightly and turned so Joanne could do the zippering. “I merely said that my cowboy turned into a frog instead of a prince… Suddenly wrinkling her nose in distaste at the frumpy garment, she sighed, “A big, ugly bullfrog…”

“If the charmer is still a big, ugly bullfrog, then that means the relationship ended quickly,” Joanne decided, shaking her head at the golden yellow dress that sadly seemed to clash with the woman’s lovely dark golden highlighted curls. Turning back to the selections, she plucked out the other gold colored dresses and pushed them out.

“How could you possibly know—?”

“My career has given me quite the knack for sorting romance’s highs and lows, Sweetheart.”

“And what is your career?”

“I’m a romance writer. Particularly Regency themed romances. Of course, Alex has an absolute bird when I mentioned it. Something about degrading his manhood to that of a little boy who gets his pants pulled down in the schoolyard by a raging hormonal tomboy. His words, of course,” Joanne explained, though she laughed suddenly. “He’s quite the poet. I tease him that he should write erotic under my pseudonym, Elizabeth Jordan—”

“My mother has all of your novels!” Hannah suddenly squealed, turning abruptly and causing the scarlet skirt to flare around her.

“Then she might be the sole source of my income,” Joanne giggled.

“Hardly, you’ve been on the bestseller’s list longer than a hungry man on a Thanksgiving turkey!”

“I know,” Joanne confided with a wickedly proud smile.

“I hope that I hit some top selling lists… On the music charts, I mean--”

“You will,” Joanne promised, continuing to push Hannah through the variety of dresses. None had been fabulous enough to dazzle the red carpet of the Country Music Awards. It would be Hannah’s first appearance in the spotlight and her first performance in front of a crowd. She needed to be breathtaking, which meant that the dress had to be absolutely phenomenal. Though, halfway through her fretting over finding the perfect dress, she heard Hannah’s sharp squeal. Thinking they had been captured in a photograph by the paparazzi, Joanne jerked. “What?!”

“Do you hear that?!” Hannah breathed, hopping onto the nearby chair to peer over the top of the dressing room door. She was only dressed in her bright blue bikini underwear and matching bra, but could care less if she was noticed. Halfway through wriggling out of a complicated gown, she had heard the faint sounds of a familiar melody. Then, when she concentrated, she heard a familiar voice echoing throughout the store. So, craning her neck, she squealed again when she noticed the women huddled around the stereo system. “It’s my song! Joanne! I’m on the radio!”

 I know there’s a blue horizon,

Somewhere up ahead, just waiting for me,

Getting there means leaving things behind.