Of Course, It's You

Chapter 4

CARMEN

Oh god, what time is it?

Carmen groaned and rolled onto her back, eyes squinting at the light sneaking in through the edge of the blackout curtains. Her temples throbbed in protest. The hotel pillow cradled her head with a deceptive softness, coaxing her to sink back into sleep. But the weight in her chest, and her skull, wouldn't allow that.

She reached for the Tylenol on the nightstand and dry swallowed two pills, then let her arm flop back across the bed. Her whole body ached, not entirely from yesterday's hangover, but from spending Sunday hunched over paperwork, finalizing timelines and triple-checking the budgets line by line. A weekend hangover was survivable, if you stuck to the couch, eating greasy takeout, and watching trashy tv. Not spreadsheets and pitch decks.

But everything needed to be flawless.

Carmen's fingers curled around the edge of the comforter. The meeting today would be her first official step into the Nashville scene. Not as Robert Mills' daughter, but as someone trying to build something on her own. She needed to be twice as sharp, twice as prepared–anything less, and she was just another rich kid riding their daddy's name to a polished corner office. But she wanted to be so much more than that. She already was.

The thought sobered her more than any cold shower could.

Still, she lingered a minute longer before forcing herself out of bed.

She thought about calling Dani. Her best friend always knew how to deliver pep talks that came with an extra side-order of blunt honesty. If anyone could rally her with a 'get your shit together' speech and still leave her laughing with a light heart, it was Dani. But she'd mentioned something about chasing down a story, and Carmen wasn't about to interrupt her mid-journalism-investigation.

The only other person she could maybe call, was her therapist. But she had been avoiding him for the last five years, and it was such an impressive silent streak, that she just couldn't bring herself to break it.

Instead, Carmen stepped into the shower, letting the hot water hammer the tension out of her shoulders. She closed her eyes, but the moment she let herself relax, memories were there again–Hannah.

She hadn't even gotten the name right in her mind that night. She was just a blur of red fabric, gold-blonde hair, and a kiss that ignited something in her gut like lightning striking the dry earth.

She'd had flings on work trips before–she was only human.The cities changed, the bars changed, but the script had stayed the same: dim lighting, too many cocktails to dull her head, and maybe a few secrets whispered between tangled sheets while maintaining a level of secrecy that made this time... feel different.

Carmen couldn't quite pin it down, this feeling she had. Her normal level of secrecy seemed to have been obliterated. She had been reckless. It had been raw and open.

She hadn't necessarily gone off-script... she'd torn the whole damn thing in half. Carmen hadn't even cared that someone might have seen them. She should have. But the only thing that mattered in that moment was the sound of Hannah's breath against her ear and the sharp ache of needing more.

Now, in the clear-headed heat of Monday morning, she wished she'd dragged the woman back to her hotel room instead of giving herself this mental whiplash. The unending sense of needing to check hallways and doorways in the office, in case someone recognized her from the wedding.

Worse still, she still couldn't stop thinking about her. The mystery blonde that haunted the edges of her thoughts, especially when her brain begged her to focus on literally anything else. Like that pitch presentation or the updated business plan for this new satellite studio.

There had been familiar names at the wedding. People from the label. Three, at least, in fact. Far more than she expected to find. Networking had been easy. She'd turned on her charm, made strategic small talk, and even managed to laugh at a joke Larry made. But when he slipped off with a group of men to smoke celebratory cigars, the weight of expectation vanished.

That's when she saw her.

Dragging her around the back of the barn hadn't been planned. It had been pure instinct. When her head had disappeared, taking with it all sense of logic.

She needed something, someone, to counteract the months of stress building in her bones. Hannah had been more than a distraction–she'd been a spark.

And Carmen, for the first time in a long time, had burned.

She wrapped a towel around herself and stared into the foggy mirror. Her eyes looked tired. Her jaw set in a line she didn't recognize. She wiped the glass clean and nodded once at herself in the reflection. No more spiraling. Today was strictly business. There was no other option.

When she stepped into the Nashville office, now a part of Mills Records, a quiet energy buzzed through the halls. She knew the vibe. People were on edge, waiting for news. She was used to navigating these rooms in someone else's shadow, but that wasn't going to be today.

Today was hers, and hers alone.

Carmen had planned to kick things off bright and early, but after reviewing calendars yesterday, she shifted her approach. She wanted as many department heads and team members in that conference room as possible when she explained her plans for the expansion. Nashville's branch had been growing fast, and she wanted to ride that wave–not just to make a name for herself, but to build something lasting. Something separate from her father's legacy.

She settled into the office chair and crossed her legs. One meeting down. Three more this morning. Her pitch was sharp and clean, her plan solid. But her chest still carried the phantom echo of a woman's laugh, the trace of her perfume, and the bruising kiss they shared in the shadows.

Carmen didn't know her full name.

But somehow, she had a sinking feeling she was about to find out.