by Gina Sturino
Dane’s phone buzzed from within his short’s pocket. We both flinched, startled by the sound.
“That’d be the pizza. Half pepperoni, half sausage. I took your suggestion to try DiSuro’s. And, I remember you’re a sausage girl.” He winked, then popped up from his seat and glanced over the balcony. “Yep, they’re here. I’ll be right back.”
He slipped out of my apartment, leaving me to once again question his intentions—the mixed signals. The kindness in his voice and sincerity of his actions felt more intimate than neighborly friendship.
I didn’t know why he wanted to keep things platonic when we both knew there was something more. An undeniable chemistry, an indescribable connection. Being with him felt too right to be wrong.
Dane and I finished the pizza and six-pack while watching the sun set. Under a silver moon, we talked until nearly midnight. Sweet and simple, intimate yet innocent, it was the best non-date—or date, for that matter—I’d had. Throughout the evening, we kept our distance. No lingering touches or glances. Yet forces beyond our control continued to play, drawing us closer.
Dane helped me gather the plates, pizza box, and bottles before he left. With the bag of trash in hand, he stopped just short of the door, turning around and tilting his head. He studied my face, then said, “Tonight was…” He trailed off, but I knew what he was going to say.
Tonight was perfect.
I knew because I felt it too.
The evening went beyond sharing pizza and a sunset. Beyond a silver moon. Beyond an undeniable connection. Something happened over the course of a few days, something that led this stranger to become more than a neighbor, more than a friend.
Dane departed with a soft, regretful smile, leaving me to fall asleep wondering why he held reservations. We both wanted more, so why was he fighting it?
Eleven
I lay in bed the next morning, mulling over Dane’s intentions when my cell ignited. Pete’s name flashed on the caller ID, and I sighed. Instead of sending him to voicemail, as I’d done numerous times, I tapped the screen and connected the call.
“Morning Nova. Did I wake you?” Pete politely greeted.
“No, I’m up,” I replied, pushing upright in bed.
“Oh, good. I’m on the train, on my way to Milwaukee. Are you free for lunch tomorrow? I have a break in my schedule around noon.”
“Tomorrow?” I closed my eyes. “Sorry, Pete, I’m heading to Chicago tomorrow.”
“Chicago? I’ll be there, and you’ll be here.” Pete laughed. “What’s going on in Chicago?”
“Family stuff.” I hesitated. Talking to Dane about my complex childhood was seamless, like chatting with an old friend. I hardly knew Pete.
“Oh.” Pete sensed my reluctance. “Well, what about tonight? Maybe we can grab dinner?”
My mind flashed to Dane, our attraction undeniable, but he’d drawn the line in the sand.
Pete, on the other hand, was straight-forward and professional, no games. If he wanted a proper date, maybe I should give him a proper chance. Besides, I had already committed to joining him for the happy hour on Thursday.
“Sure. Where are you thinking?” I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Well, I’m fairly familiar with Milwaukee. Table Top Five is always good, and it’s close to my hotel, but I’m open to suggestions.”
“Oh right, if you’re taking the train, you probably don’t have a car? Table Top Five is perfect. It’s just a few blocks away, so I can walk.”
“You don’t have a car either, huh? Has an adjuster spoken with you yet? Let me know if I can help with that. I know your car’s totaled; I read the report.”
The reference to the accident quickened my pulse. I breathed in through my nose, releasing it from pinched lips before asking, “You’ve read it? The police report?”
Before Pete could answer, I interrupted, needing to change the topic. “What time are you thinking?”
We firmed our plans for the evening before clicking off the call. I’d meet Pete at seven thirty, which seemed very late for dinner now that I wasn’t working. How quickly I seemed to forget the demanding schedule of an attorney.
Puffy white clouds and blue skies held no hint of rain, yet the forecast called for strong afternoon thundershowers. I closed the blinds and then dressed quickly, throwing workout shorts and a tank top on before lacing up running shoes. On this second attempt to visit Cami, I’d take the longer route through the city streets. And I’d remain on the sidewalk, no venturing off to explore. I wouldn’t allow my imagination the opportunity to outrun me.
Earbuds pumped music into my ears, masking the hub of traffic and chatter of fellow pedestrians. I navigated down Ogden Street to Brady, turned onto Humboldt, then swung a left on Commerce Avenue. The route added a few extra blocks to my walk, but the presence of people calmed my nerves.
Spirit of the Sky Yoga’s lobby smelled of tea tree and lavender. I instantly relaxed as I stepped through the entrance.
“Nova!” Cami squealed, hurrying from behind the registration desk to embrace me.
Cami had a youthful appearance with a rosy complexion and always-happy, yet intense, amber-brown eyes. They were staring squarely into my own, probing with a gentle kindness. Her thick hair was cut into a long bob. While mine could be considered beach blond, Cami’s was bleached blond—a snowy white that would’ve looked highly unnatural on anybody else.
“Hey Cam!” I greeted, my voice enthusiastic but not quite as happy as hers.
Looking me over like a mother hen, she clasped my hands in her smaller ones. “You look so much better!”
After my last attempt to visit Cami, I’d sent a text asking to reschedule but didn’t divulge the details of my panic attack. She worried enough about me, especially following the car accident.
“I am.” I nodded. “I should be back in the studio next week. At least, I’m hoping to be. I’ve done some online classes in my living room. Feels good.”
“So where are the promised cookies?”
“Oh. I, um, ate them all,” I confessed.
“Look at you, baking! Honestly, I thought you were kidding.” Cami giggled and dropped her hold on my hands. She tilted her head, studying me. “You seem… different?”
“Yeah, Cam, I feel different. Thankful to be alive.”
The door burst open and a few people shuffled in. Cami looked down at her watch, then pulled me in for a quick squeeze. “I’m so sorry, but I have a class starting in a few. Maybe we can grab lunch? Tomorrow?”
“Oh, right. I have plans with my neighbor tomorrow. Another day?”
“Your neighbor?” Her amber eyes narrowed.
“My new neighbor.” I smiled. “We have a lot to catch up on, but I don’t want to keep you.”
Cami’s nose scrunched, like she was confused, but she gave a little shake of her head, brushing it off. “Oh, there’s a professionals’ cocktail event at Bar Continental on Thursday. I hope to make it, although I might be late. You should come with me!”
Of course, she’d be at the cocktail hour. Cami, the social butterfly, never missed those types of events. She thrived off other’s people energy.
“Actually, I’m planning on it. I’ll see you there,” I replied.
I’d hoped to fill her in on Dane and Pete, but it appeared she’d be meeting both soon enough.
Having arrived at Table Top Five a few minutes early, I ordered a gin and tonic at the bar and waited for Pete. Just as the bartender set the glass down in front of me, he hurried through the door with his briefcase in hand.
“Hey.” Pete grinned, settling into the stool next to me while placing the briefcase at his feet. “I was hoping to drop this off and change before meeting you, but my last appointment ran late. You know how it goes, I suppose. Is that a double?”
Taking a quick sip, I glanced at my drink. “Yes, and not to sound like a lush, but I need it. It’s been a weird week. Weird month. Since the accident, everything’s been… weird.”
&nb
sp; “Right.” Pete’s eyes rounded in sympathy. “You look great. How are you feeling?”
“Better, for the most part. Almost all healed.” Almost.
“I know you didn’t want to talk about it when we met last, but before you quit Loft, Darrell gave me a run-down of your situation. You know he needs to make someone pay. I think you might have a case against the construction company.”
“The construction company?” I asked, absently running a finger around the rim of my glass.
“Yeah, and after digging a little deeper, I agree. It’s a strong case. My buddy with the Milwaukee PD was able to get me an expedited copy of the police report.”
The police report. I swallowed the lump in my throat as heat crawled up my neck. Now was the time to ask. To find out what may have happened with the driver and that woman. Put those ghosts to rest.
To heal, I needed the closure.
“About the report…” Pete’s eyes were on mine, and he nodded, encouraging me to continue. “How is the woman?”
“Woman?" Pete cocked his head.
“By the telephone pole, where my car hit.” My voice wobbled.
“There was no woman.” His head gently shook. I found mine following suite.
“What about the car that side-swiped mine?” Neal’s face flashed in my head, and I resisted shivering. “The other driver. How is he?”
“Other driver? There wasn’t another car.” Pete’s puzzled tone and raised brow had my heart pounding. I looked down to my drink. “Nova, do you remember what happened?”
“No other car?” I repeated, my voice echoey and fuzzy. The sounds of the people around us—the clink of silverware and the bustle of waiters and diners—buzzed, growing as loud as a swarm of bees.
The noises around us pitched, jolting my vision as I tried to recall details of the accident. I squeezed my eyes shut.
A flash of lightning. Neal’s stricken face. The woman’s worrisome eyes. Touches as soft as feathers. A guardian angel.
“There was a lightning storm. I was side-swiped driving home from the airport,” I whispered, eyes still tightly closed, “and I hit a telephone pole.”
“No, Nova,” Pete rested his hand over mine, and I finally opened my eyes to meet his curious gaze. “There was road construction at that intersection. The crew was required to put up flashing lights on the barricade, and they didn’t. You swerved to miss it, and with the storm, you spun out. That’s how you ended up hitting that pole.”
I pulled in my bottom lip and dropped my eyes to my feet, focusing on my pedicured toes that peeked from my sandal. “It’s in the police report? No woman? No other car?”
“No woman. No other car,” Pete reiterated.
“No woman. No other car.” I blinked.
“I can drop off the report tomorrow, if you’d like?”
“That’s okay,” I replied softly. “Thanks though.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, I am.” I downed the rest of my cocktail, and then slipped from the barstool. “Let’s grab a table.”
Pete closed our bar tab while we waited for the hostess to seat us. Weaving through the restaurant, I tried to let the thoughts of the accident slide away. The gin dulled my aching nerves, yet I couldn’t help but think something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Every time my mind wandered to the accident, I pictured Neal and that woman.
The rest of our dinner passed with laughs and good conversation, even though questions about the wreck lingered in the back of my head.
I had to admit, there was an undeniable attraction to Pete, which only confused me further, and my unsettled head certainly didn’t need any more of that.
Pete rode with me in the cab, then had the driver wait while he led me to the double doors at the entrance of my apartment building. Standing beneath the flood lights, my stomach grew nervous as our awkward goodbye played out.
Perhaps sensing my hesitation, Pete leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on the side of my cheek. “I never thought I’d be thanking Darrell Loft for anything, but I’m glad he gave me your number.”
Pete’s smile softened the boyish features of his cute face. He was kind, smart, and handsome. When I looked at him, I could envision a perfect future. White picket fence, two kids, a dog. On paper, Pete was everything a woman could wish for. Safety, security, a good job. Clean cut and straightforward. Dane, the exact opposite, was a little rough around the edges. Silly, sarcastic, and spontaneous. Mysterious and exciting.
I should not have compared the two men, but they came into my life at the same time, making it impossible not to notice their vast differences. Pete, a sure thing, versus Dane, an unknown. For reasons I couldn’t seem to decipher, I gravitated toward the latter, even knowing the risks.
Sometimes the unknown, while a greater risk, offered the greater reward.
Sometimes the risk wasn’t worth the reward.
Twelve
Tuesday morning, I opened my apartment door at the agreed upon departure time. Dane stood with his fist raised, ready to knock.
“Very punctual, Ms. Nixon. I’m impressed.”
“Do you ever wear anything other than black?” I teased. He looked effortlessly cool with a black polo shirt and grey trouser shorts.
“I’m going for dark and mysterious.” He chuckled, sweeping a thick forearm down his body. “Better than camo. You ready?”
Right. Dane had been in the military. Hard to remember with his shaggy hair and low-key, relaxed persona. I always pictured soldiers to be fresh shaven with crew cuts and serious, no-nonsense dispositions.
I followed Dane to the parking garage and was slightly surprised when he led me to a blood-red Audi TT. I’d fully envisioned him riding a Harley.
“Nice car,” I praised, slipping into the black leather seat.
“Thanks. It was a present to myself. A gift following my last mission,” Dane explained.
“Oh, right.” I pulled at the hem of my blue silk shorts, adjusting to the buttery leather. “I think you might be the first Army guy I’ve met, in person that is.”
“Soldier.” Dane glanced my way, a smile tugging at his lips. “We’re soldiers. But, yeah, I thought I’d feel a little guilty spending all that money. Nope, no regrets.” He revved out of the parking garage.
“I had a Beamer. The Bermer Beamer.” I looked out of the window, watching for traffic as Dane pulled onto the street. My fingers dug into my thighs. “This is my first time in a car since the accident. Well, except for the trip home from the hospital, but I was kinda out of it for that.”
“Oh, good to know. I’ll keep that in mind.” Now he had a full-on grin, yet I noted true sincerity in his tone. “One of the reasons I bought this sucker is for its pick-up, but I’ll be extra careful. Precious cargo and all.” Dane glanced at me before checking his blind spots, using both the side and rear-view mirror, then giving an extra look over his shoulder before switching lanes. “Is the Bermer Beamer the car that got wrecked—wait, what is a Bermer Beamer?”
“The BMW I bought after a big project—the Bermer deal—with my bonus. Now all that money’s sitting crumpled in a salvage lot.”
Unlike Dane, I felt the guilt. So much money over the years spent on high-end clothes, purses, and a ridiculously priced car. Unnecessary extravagances. Aunt Lu taught me better. I should have done better. I could have done so much more.
You’ll be tempted, Novalee, but profit and gain aren’t worth the forfeit of the soul. I stiffened in my seat.
Dane turned on the radio, switching stations before settling on country. His fingers tapped in tune on the steering wheel. I wouldn’t have guessed him to be one for songs about honky-tonk bars and tractors, not with his urban-metro edge—the black clothes and the sports car were a stark contrast to cowboy hats and pick-up trucks.
“Country, huh?” I asked, curiosity getting the best of me.
Dane kept his eyes on the road, but I could see the corners of his eyes crinkling as he spoke. “Not my first choice.”
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br /> “Oh, what is?”
He glanced my way before fidgeting with the buttons on his steering wheel, accessing his playlist through Bluetooth. Instruments sounded, a gentle teaser before picking up in tempo.
And then a rich baritone voice sang foreign words.
“Opera?” I cocked my head and suppressed a giggle. And here I thought country was farfetched. “Really?”
He enthusiastically nodded his head. “Not to brag, but I’ve been to nine out of ten of the largest opera houses in the world. Austria, two in Italy, two in France, Sydney, and the Lincoln Center—of course. Oh, and Russia. The Bolshoi may be my favorite. If only for the fact that it’s survived wars, fires, and a revolution. I’m only missing Argentina, and that was due to unforeseen circumstances.”
“Wow,” I said under my breath, feeling quite uncultured. “You’ve traveled quite a bit then?”
Dane sneaked a look, catching my eyes before glancing to check the right-hand lane. The Audi moved like a knife through butter. “Yeah, the military is rough on a guy’s personal life but great for adventures.”
Army guy, right, almost forgot. No, soldier. I reminded myself.
“I can relate to having a job interfering with my social life, but definitely not on the adventures. I traveled a lot for projects, but even if I went someplace cool, I was given zero time to sightsee.” I huffed, thinking of all the working weekends I spent in London, New York City, and San Francisco.
I didn’t have a lot of stamps in my passport, but even when an opportunity to work abroad arose, Loft kept me so busy I hardly had time to eat, let alone explore.
All work and no play. My prior life never seemed to belong to me, never my own.
“Honestly, I can’t think of the last time I took a personal trip. A real, honest-to-goodness vacation,” I said, my voice a bit deflated.