“It’s the weekend before Thanksgiving. Thanks to NASCAR testing an extended season this year, she’s going to see her dad race.”
I wrap my arms around him, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. “Thank you for thinking of my family.”
His hand flattens on my lower back, molding me closer. “I’d like to think of them as my family, too, baby.” His voice is low, silky.
My mother’s marriage comment is back in my head. I can’t help it. He put it there with that comment. “They are,” I assure him. “You know they are.”
“I’m starting to feel that and it’s good, Allie.”
“Well, as family, I must inform you that you’re officially on tree duty.”
He laughs and releases me, reaching for his coffee cup. “What does tree duty entail?”
“It means you get to put up not one, but two trees.”
He arches a brow. “Two?”
“My parent’s tree and ours, I hope.” I reclaim my barstool. “It’s kind of a family tradition to put it up on Thanksgiving. What do you normally do?”
“Since my mother died, nothing. Bella does it all. She bitches I don’t have a tree and rushes in here and puts one up. I have one in the storage room downstairs. There’s a bunch of the decorations we had with my mother as well.”
“Bella is an angel. And I can’t wait to see it. Is Thanksgiving night okay?”
“I think for the first time in a long time, the answer is yes.”
“Should we invite Bella over? Actually,” I say, as a thought hits me. “What if we host a tree trimming party and I invite my mom and stepdad? My mom is dying to see what the apartment is like.”
“When?”
“How about the Saturday after Thanksgiving? It can be a new tradition.”
His eyes and his voice warm. “I like that, Allie. Very much.”
Now, I warm. “Perfect.”
“Yes. Yes, it is,” he agrees. “Trust the magic of new beginnings, baby. And yes, that is a quote, and no, I don’t know who said it. I read it. Somewhere. Probably on the internet, about the time I left the FBI behind. And here I am. And here you are. Where you belong, Allie.”
“Yes,” I say softly. “Here I am. Where I belong.”
And for the first time, I dare to believe this is where I will stay.
To hell with the storm.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Turns out, the pastries are really good pastries. I eat one and wrap one up to take with me on the road. “I really want to get to work early.”
“I’ll go with you,” Dash suggests, finishing off a pastry of his own. “I need to write and I do that better at certain stages of the book when I’m not at home and easily distracted. I’ll head over to Cupcakes and Books.”
I glance at my watch. “Are they open?”
“I have a key. Jackson and Adrianna let me go in through the employee entrance and start working before the doors open.”
“That’s a sweet deal, quite literally,” I joke.
“That’s right, cupcake,” he says with a wink, and then we bundle up and he walks me to Hawk Legal, where we make plans for lunch.
Dash and I part ways with a kiss and a shared smile that carries me inside the building, leaving him behind, but not for long. I’m feeling that whole surreal sensation again. I’d been so alone when I met Dash and I’d almost convinced myself that’s what I wanted. Now, I can’t imagine life without him and that’s the scary thing. While I know he’s committed and so am I, I can’t shake the certainty that there is that storm cloud hovering, and sooner or later, it will burst. I shove aside that thought and focus on the task ahead of me.
Mark has told me I have a job. Tyler has not. This is a two-way street. While yes, I could work from home, and still manage the annual charity and year-round auctions, I’m not sure how that would really work out. Bottom line, I’m celebrating a future that requires three signatures and I only have two. Mine and Mark’s. I need Tyler’s, which is exactly why when I step off the elevator I head straight to my office, or what I hope is my office, dump my things and then make my way to his office. It’s early, but Tyler tends to be in the office before everyone and he often stays until the place is dark. I’m not sure if that means he’s devoted to his work, or hiding from his personal life. Maybe both. I understand both. That was my story before I met Dash.
As expected, his secretary is not in yet, but a peak down the hallway tells me the light to his office is shining brightly.
I hurry in that direction and step into his doorway. Tyler is standing in front of the window, as I found him once before, staring out at the city. I wonder what a man like Tyler contemplates so intensely. The words I’d read in the journal last night come back to me:
I loved him. I believe he loved me, too. I still love him and yet, we are no more.
I wonder if Allison is on his mind.
I wonder if she’s moved on and is happy.
I wonder why I can’t believe that to be true.
Tyler turns to face me. “You don’t work for me anymore, Ms. Wright, and yet, I get the feeling you still aspire to continue to be the first and last person to harass me today.”
“Harass you?” I challenge, a bit amused at this remark. “Is that what I’m doing?”
“I haven’t had coffee this morning. So, yes. You’re harassing me, as would anyone else who spoke to me right now.”
“Should I go get you a coffee and come back?”
“The part where you come back doesn’t work for me.”
“Okay then. You’re obviously pissed at me, right?”
“No,” he replies flatly. “I am not pissed at you, though a warning about Mark Compton calling me would have been appreciated.”
“I didn’t know. I didn’t even plan to be back here today, because of—”
“Dash. I know. I told you he’s fucked up. You didn’t listen.”
“Aren’t we all, Tyler?”
“I believe we’re repeating a previous argument. No coffee, Ms. Wright. Remember?”
“This keeps going sideways. Deny what you will, but we both know you’re really angry at me.”
He scrubs his jaw in an act of frustration, not his normal cool confidence and control, then settles his hands on his hips under his jacket before he motions to the door. “Let’s go have coffee, Allie. Not here.”
I blink in surprise both at the use of my first name and at his invitation. Or whatever it is. “I need to get my coat.”
“I’ll meet you at the elevator.”
I nod and turn away, walking toward the door.
No one else is here, but he wants out of the building, where we can talk.
I’m not sure what’s going on, but it doesn’t feel like it’s anything good.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I’m about to exit his office when Tyler says, “Wait.”
I rotate to face him again, my nerves crackling and popping at his weird behavior, not sure what to expect next. “I have a damn meeting,” he says. “I put on a pot of coffee. In the break room.”
Confused by him being so indecisive, I just go with the flow. “Okay. I’ll get the coffee. How do you like it?”
“You’re not my damn servant, Allie.” He closes the space between us and motions me to the hallway. “I need coffee.”
I don’t know what is going on with him right now, but I don’t push him. I turn and exit and start walking, with him behind me instead of beside me. Talk about awkward. I cut into the break room and quickly dart for the mugs sitting beside the pot. I set two on the counter and fill them both. Tyler steps close beside me, really close, and I smell him—spicy and male—but different from Dash. I don’t even feel comfortable knowing how he smells.
Tyler and I have a connection. I know this. I’m drawn to him, but it has nothing to do with me wanting him. I think it’s about being alone. Because I was alone when I met him. Because he’s still alone. And I fear being alone again. On some level, even as I have this
thought, I recognize this as a flaw. I was okay alone. I shouldn’t fear being in that place again. I don’t fear it, I amend.
I fear being without Dash.
Somehow I’ve had this entire internal conversation with myself and still managed to pour cream and Splenda into my coffee. Tyler has done the same. He glances over at me, his steely eyes meeting mine, and for a few seconds, we just stare at each other. I’m not sure what he’s looking for and I can’t read him. The longer this continues, the more uneasy I feel.
“Tyler?” I ask, uncertainty in my tone, I don’t try to hide.
“My office,” he says, picking up his cup and starting in that direction.
He exits the break room and I follow. Now I’m behind him and somehow this is just as awkward as the opposite. He enters his office and angles toward me long enough to motion me to the conference table. “Sit.”
It’s an impatient command. I do as he says because 1) I filled my cup too full and it’s going to spill if I get fired up one little bit and Tyler is pretty good at getting me fired up, and 2) I want to know what’s going on. I settle into my seat and Tyler sits across from me, sipping his coffee. I do the same. It’s good coffee, cinnamon, I think. Figures he’d favor good coffee. He works all the time, so fueling up is a necessity.
“You saw the interview?” I ask when he just looks at me again.
“I approved it before Bella made it happen.”
“Then you’re pleased.” It’s not really a question, and yet, it’s kind of a question. He’s just too weird to make assumptions with at present.
“For now,” he states. “When I told you he’s fucked up, I wasn’t speaking out of malice. I was speaking a fact. He’ll screw up again. And he managed to draw you back in to hurt you all over again.”
My defenses flare, my need to protect Dash right along with them. “You don’t know what happened between me and Dash.”
“You’re going to tell me he didn’t hurt you this weekend?”
“Do I have a job, Tyler?” I snap back, the snap hard to avoid.
“You work for Riptide. They’re renting your office for a sizable premium.”
“Then can I go?”
“No,” he states. “You cannot. You still work for me, even if it is as a contractor.” He softens his voice. “He will hurt you, Allie. You need to wake up.”
“You don’t know—”
“Why do you think he got so mad in that club when I said he was no good for you?”
“Because it was a lousy thing to say in front of me?”
“Because when he said it to me about another woman, I listened. I stepped back. I made the decision to think about her, not me. He should do the same. He will not.”
My lips purse. “This isn’t about me and Dash. It’s about you and Allison.”
“In or out, because if you’re not in all the way, you need to walk away now before this gets dirty and bad for both of you.”
“Is this personal or professional?”
“In or out,” he repeats. “No matter how dirty it gets.”
I blanch and do a double-take. “You know why his father hates him.”
“Do you?” he challenges.
“I’m asking if you do.”
His eyes sharpen. “In other words, you don’t know, at least not everything.” He picks up his coffee. “Let’s talk about the auction.”
“She loved you.”
“I know,” he says, his voice without emotion, but his eyes burn with a hint of anger and I’m not sure that anger is directed at me.
“You loved her,” I dare.
“The auction.”
I draw in a breath and fight anger at his implication that Dash is selfish to stay with me. I want to tell him that he’s selfish for the words he’s saying to me, but I’m not sure that’s where this comes from. I’m not sure of a lot of things and won’t be until I have time to think. Alone. So I tell him about the auction. When I’m done, he says, “It’s sound like you’ve done an exceptional job for us, Riptide, and the cause.”
“Does that mean you want me to stay on?”
“I want a lot of things with you, Allie.”
There is a pop of tension between us that feels sexual, and I’d accuse him of trying to hurt Dash, but there’s more to this. I feel it. I sense it. “Because I remind you of her.”
He just looks at me—he’s doing way too much of that—before he says, “I want you to work for Hawk Legal, not Riptide. I’ll give you a twenty percent raise and a twenty-thousand-dollar signing bonus.”
“Why would you do that? You have me for free.”
“You don’t need the money when you’re with Dash, but then, you don’t need the money anyway. If Dash’s money motivated you, so would your father’s.”
“Okay,” I say cautiously. “If you know that, then again, why, Tyler?”
“Because the minute something goes wrong with Dash, you’re back in New York, and I’m starting over. You don’t get to have one foot in the door and one foot out. If you want to be here, be here. For me and for him.”
“My job doesn’t change if something happens between me and Dash. I like what I’m doing. I want to be here.”
“Good. Then I’ll have human resources draw up the paperwork.”
“No.”
He arches a brow. “No?”
“I promised Mark loyalty.”
“And what do you promise me?”
“Loyalty in this partnership. I’m not going to leave. And why would you tell Mark this was okay if it wasn’t?”
“I told Mark the opportunity to work with Riptide makes sense for us. I didn’t agree to the terms he presented. You have my terms. Mark and I agreed you’d finish this year on my payroll. You have until December thirty-first to make your decision.”
He stands up. I do the same. “Tyler—”
“My offer stands.”
“And what do I tell Mark?”
“I plan to call and tell him myself.”
“If you tell him now, he’ll force my decision immediately. Don’t do that to me.”
“Now would be better than later.”
“And you could end up with an auction that flounders, fails, or doesn’t happen.”
“December thirty-first,” he says tightly.
“I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”
“You should. Maybe if you think a little harder, you will.”
I don’t know what is happening here, but it’s clearly not exactly what I think. I draw in a breath and turn and walk toward the door, but then I turn and face him. “She didn’t leave you. You sent her away. You weren’t willing to be vulnerable with her.”
“And Dash is with you?”
“Yes.”
“You sure about that? Because if you’d made your decision about him, really made it, you wouldn’t leave an open door. Think about it.”
He’s wrong, but there’s no explaining myself to him and I’m not sure I can try. There’s more to this meeting than meets the eye. “She didn’t leave you,” I repeat. “You left her while you were still standing right in front of her. Call her. I know you love her.”
“I have called her, Allie.” His voice vibrates. “She won’t call me back.”
I hurry back toward him. “I’m worried about her. Aren’t you worried?”
“She hates me, Allie.”
“There’s a fine line between love and hate. Nothing about her leaving and ghosting everyone makes sense. I’m worried. Worry with me and let’s find her.”
“And then what?”
“Then you get on your damn knees and you beg her to forgive you. Think about it. You may not have until December thirty-first. Maybe she doesn’t, either.” I whirl on my heel and march for the door, hoping he’ll stop me. He doesn’t.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I walk into my office, or at least, the office I’m using, and shut the door before I sit down. My first instinct is to call Dash. I dig my phone from my pocke
t, but I pause with a second thought. Dash already knows Tyler was involved with all that happened this weekend. I have to tell him about this, but doing it when I’m fired up and emotional isn’t the best idea. I’ll talk to him over lunch. I set my phone aside and my mind is on Allison. How can it not be? Everything that just happened has something to do with her. That was fairly obvious, at least to me.
I grab my phone again and punch in Allison’s number. It goes straight to voicemail and this time when it answers, I say, “Allison. My name is also Allison. But I’m not calling about filling in for you at Hawk Legal. I’m calling about Tyler. He’s miserable without you. That’s easy to see. He’s burning alive in the flames of his own regret.” I laugh awkwardly. “That sounded intense. I used to be an editor. Can you tell? Please come back. Or call him. There’s nothing between me and him. I’m happily with someone else. There were just circumstances and I—well, I found your journal, and please forgive me, but I started reading—and I’m—I feel like I know you. It’s silly, but it’s like we’re friends. Maybe we really can be and—
The machine beeps.
I call back and this time when the machine answers I say, “Come back, Allison. Or call. If not him, me. Just let us know you’re okay. Please.”
I disconnect.
I’m a stranger. That message probably means nothing to her, but I had to try.
I open my drawer and stare down at my purse, where the journal remains, and I can’t help myself. I reach for it, hoping for an answer to a question I’m not even aware I should be asking. If I found her, it just feels as if the world would be right. Tyler would be a new man. A man I’ve never met and perhaps no one has. Unable to help myself, I pick up the journal, praying for something that helps me find Allison, or just to know she’s safe. I open to the final page. It’s blank. So are the ten pages before it and the ten before those. I find the final entry and start reading:
In times like these, I miss my mother more than ever. I also realize my friendships here in Nashville are all plastic. There is no one I feel comfortable telling my secrets to. Let’s face it, that’s why I started writing a journal. I have no one. Maybe that’s why I fell so hard for him. And I did. So ridiculously hard. I want to go to him, but he’d never forgive me. All I would do is put a nail in our coffin, but then, what choice do I have? He has to know. And yet, it will hurt him. He hurt me, but I have no wish to hurt him.
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