"Thank you. By the way, no one else knows how scared I am about my future."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't share that."
"You told me."
"And for the life of me, I don't know why. But when we talk, I find myself telling you things I don't usually share. Nikki has never even once asked me about my family, my relationship with my father or my brothers."
She was surprised. "Really? It seems so ordinary to talk about family."
He shrugged. "Not in my world."
"Your world sounds a little superficial."
"It can be," he admitted. "I don't think I noticed until I came here."
The look in his eyes was unsettling. She took a long sip of her wine. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I've shared a lot of personal information with you, too."
"You have, but I am curious about something, since we're going deep tonight."
"What's that?"
"What was it like giving up your design career?"
"It was nothing like what you're going through. I wasn't established. I wasn't at the top of my game, like you are. I was working an entry-level job at a fashion house. I ran a lot of errands, and any designing was done after hours in the hope that one day someone would give me a chance to show my designs. But that didn't happen."
"Still, you were pursuing your dream."
"It was a dream to be living in New York," she agreed. "The long hours, the nothing pay, the crappy apartment that I shared with three other girls didn't matter. I loved the city, the excitement, the energy, and the possibilities. I loved being around the designers, the models, and watching clothes come to life. Fashion Week in New York was my favorite time of the year. But in reality, I was more of a spectator in the fashion world than a participant."
"Do you think you'll go back to New York?"
"It's been on my mind the last year. More so since I started designing for my friends. But I don't know, Dante. I feel like that life has already passed me by."
"Why? You're not that old. Are you thirty? Thirty-one?"
"Thirty-one. And it's not just age; it's about lifestyle. What I was willing to do at twenty-two, twenty-three, I'm not sure I want to do now. Money has become more important to me. I don't want to live in a crowded apartment with three other people. I don't want to get coffee and run errands and go back to what I was doing."
"So, don't do that. Start higher. You have more experience now. A country music star just wore your dress on the red carpet. You don't have to do what you did before."
"It's still such a long shot. And New York is a long way from Whisper Lake. If something happened to my mom because I went off to try for something that's probably impossible to achieve, I don't think I could forgive myself."
"Something could happen to your mom while you're living in her house. You know that, Keira. Get honest. It's about fear that you're not good enough."
"I might not be good enough," she said.
"You won't know if you don't put yourself out there."
"It's more complicated than you understand."
"I get it. You have your mom to worry about. And as you told me before, practical matters, like money, play a role. But you don't want to look back years from now and wish you'd given your dream another shot. Have you talked to your mom about it?"
"No. I don't want her to think she is holding me back. That would hurt her too much."
He gave her a sympathetic smile. "You're a very kind, loving person. That's probably why you can't be as selfish as I can be."
She didn't know if he was selfish, or if he'd become an island of focus after his mom died and his father emotionally abandoned him. Maybe his pursuit of baseball had become the one thing in his life he could control. Now he'd lost that control, and he was desperate to get it back. But she'd probably done enough amateur psychoanalysis for one night. And she didn't want to keep talking about her career choices, either. She cleared her throat. "So, should we talk about the pictures?"
"Not yet."
She didn't ask him why he was stalling, because she didn't want to end the night yet, and it would end as soon as they got around to the real reason they were here.
Instead, she pushed her glass toward him. "In that case, top me off."
Dante needed to get down to the reason they were meeting, but he wasn't ready yet. He refilled both of their glasses and rested his arms on the table as he gazed into Keira's pretty brown eyes. Despite the fact that their conversation had gotten very personal, he felt surprisingly good. "Let's talk more about you," he said.
"I think we've already dissected my career prospects."
"What about your dating life? Have you heard from the real Danny again?"
"No. I think he got the hint when I left the bar so abruptly. We were not a match."
"I wonder how he's doing on his novel."
"Who knows?"
"He might become a famous novelist one day, and then you'll be like, damn, I had a chance to date him," he said with a grin.
She smiled. "That would be just my luck. But fame and money aren't important to me."
Other women had told him that, and he hadn't believed them. But he actually believed Keira. "What do you care about?"
"Being able to talk and laugh with someone. It's so right that it's easy. Every time I'm in a relationship that's too hard, I try to fix it, only to waste weeks of time to finally admit that it just doesn't work."
"If there isn't an immediate connection, it never really happens," he agreed. "How picky are you?"
"Not that picky to meet someone, but after that, I can get critical. I've seen all of my friends fall in love, and I want the best of everything. I want the smoking hot chemistry and the best friend."
"You do want it all."
"Yes, I do. There's a song by Etta James, 'A Sunday Kind of Love'. Have you heard it?"
"No."
"It's not about the guys who are hot, sexy fun on Saturday night. It's about finding a man you want to spend all day Sunday with. That's who I'm looking for—that guy."
He wasn't that guy. He was usually pitching on Sundays. He knew he was taking it too literally, but that helped prevent him from making the ridiculous declaration that maybe he could be that guy, because he couldn't. And it wasn't just because of baseball. He was a Saturday night guy. He was a gone the next morning man. At least, he always had been. "I take it you haven't met that guy."
"Nope."
"Ever get close?"
"A couple of times I thought maybe…but none of them worked out. The last few years, dates have been sparse. I've been busy, and I don't exactly live in a big city with a lot of options."
"Is staying in Whisper Lake a deal breaker?"
"Maybe. But I don't have to make that decision now. What about you? Have you been in serious relationships before Nikki?"
"Just to clarify once more, Nikki isn't a serious relationship."
"What about before her?"
"I've had a couple of relationships that lasted a year or so, mostly when I was younger—high school, college. Once I was drafted and started traveling from city to city, my primary relationship was with baseball. I've lived a rather narrow life when I think about it." His words actually surprised him. He hadn't thought of it that way until now.
"Narrow? Your life seems big to me."
"But in just one specific area. Do you want more wine?" he asked, as she finished her glass.
"No. If I drink more wine, I won't be able to drive home. We need to talk about the pictures, Dante."
"I know. I have to say I was surprised by the shots. I didn't think the photographer caught us at Micky's."
"And I never saw anyone outside the rehab center. But you were right. Once the photographer saw us together twice, he started spinning a story about us that was completely fictional."
"It's possible that it will get worse now. Even if more paparazzi don't show up, people will be taking out their phones and snapping photos wherever I go. You c
an make good money taking pictures of celebrities."
"I feel like Whisper Lake is pretty good about letting celebrities have their privacy. Chelsea has gone through some of that scrutiny, but most people leave her alone now."
"That might be true if I lived here full-time, but I'm at a moment in my life that's very tenuous, and a lot of sports reporters and fans are eager to know if I'm going to make it back this season. It would be better for you if we didn't get close enough for anyone to take another picture."
"So, we're breaking up," she said. "Even though there's nothing to break up."
He thought about that for a moment. "Isn't there, Keira?"
A sudden uncertain gleam lit up her gaze. "What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean. There's something between us."
"There's also someone between us. Has Nikki seen the photos?"
"Yes. I told her there was nothing to them."
"Did she believe you?"
"She knows how the press is. She's a very popular model, and she has dated a lot of high- profile celebrities. She's used to cameras."
"I actually met Nikki a long time ago when I was in New York. I'm sure she wouldn't remember me. She was a young model, and I was an errand girl. She's really beautiful. You're lucky."
He didn't feel lucky. He felt like he'd gotten caught in an unexpected trap.
"We didn't really need to meet for you to tell me to stay away from you," Keira continued. "You could have said that on the phone. Why didn't you?"
"Because I wanted to see you again. I told Nikki that things weren't working out for us, but she cut me off when I suggested we take a break. She said we'd talk about it later."
Surprise moved through her gaze. "Why did you tell her that?"
"Because it's the truth. We haven't been in sync for weeks, long before I met you."
"I don't want to be the reason you break up with her. It's not like we have a future ahead. You'll be leaving in a few weeks."
"I know. If this was another time, another place…"
"But it's not."
"No," he agreed, feeling weighed down by that answer. "So, this is it?"
"I think so." She forced a smile onto her face. "It was fun while it lasted. I don't want things to be awkward between us. This is a small town. You're staying at the inn. It's likely we'll run into each other. Let's not make this into a bigger deal than it is."
She was saying everything she could to make their situation easier, and he should have appreciated that, but he didn't.
Keira stood up. "I'll clean all this up and get the dishes back to Lizzie tomorrow. You can go, Dante."
He got to his feet, not at all happy with the way things were ending. "This isn't what I want."
She stared back at him. "Sometimes you have to accept that you don't always get what you want."
"I never accept that. I just keep fighting until I reach my goal."
"I'm not your goal, Dante. And until you actually break up with Nikki, you probably shouldn't be kissing anyone else."
"You were irresistible," he said with a smile.
Her lips curved upward. "So were you, but it's over. That's the best decision for both of us." She stuck out her hand. "Deal?"
He took her hand, his fingers curling around hers, and he held on for far too long.
"You have to let go now," she said.
"You first," he replied, a challenging note in his voice. "Or we could have a goodbye kiss."
She licked her lips, and his heart thudded against his chest.
"I'm really tempted," she whispered. "But it won't make me want to say goodbye." She yanked her hand away from his. "Can you please go before I change my mind?"
He really didn't want to leave. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her until she was breathless. And then he wanted to take it even further. But he couldn't do that, not while he was tangled up with Nikki, and maybe not even when he was untangled. Because this woman seemed like someone who could be a distraction for a very long time.
"Dante," she pleaded, an almost desperate note in her voice.
"Okay, I'm going. Just for the record, I don't think this is over." He left before she could respond, letting the front door slam behind him in frustration. He was a man who got what he wanted. But he couldn't have her—not now, probably not ever—and he didn't know how to just accept that. But he was going to have to figure out a way.
Chapter Eleven
Dante didn’t sleep well, and his rehab session on Thursday was brutally rough. He was tired. He was in a bad mood, and his patience was thin. By noon, his therapists had seen enough and suggested he either call it a day or take a two-hour break before the afternoon session. He'd opted for the break, not wanting to lose any valuable time in his recovery. He just needed to get his head together and remember why he was in Whisper Lake. It wasn't to romance Keira. He just wished he could stop thinking about ways to see her again, even though they'd both agreed to stay apart, not just for the sake of avoiding a photograph, but also because he was still attached to Nikki, and he was just passing through.
When he walked into the inn, he gave Lizzie a nod.
"Dante," she said with a welcoming gaze. "I'm glad you're back. You have a visitor."
His gut tightened. "Who?"
"Nikki Voltari."
"What?" His gaze swept the entry and adjacent living room. "She's here?"
"Yes. She said she was exhausted from her early flight, so I gave her a room. I didn't feel right putting her in your room. She's on the second floor in room six."
He couldn't believe Nikki had come to Whisper Lake.
"Thanks."
He moved up the stairs, feeling a mix of emotions, none of them good. He knocked on Nikki's door. A moment later, she threw it open. She wore a cropped top and wide-legged pants that did little to hide how thin she was. Her straight blonde hair reached halfway down her back, and when she came toward him, he almost choked on the strong scent of her perfume.
"Dante," she squealed, then threw her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss. "Are you surprised?"
"I am," he admitted, as she pulled him into the room and shut the door. "I just talked to you last night. You didn't say anything about coming."
"I decided after we spoke. Craig let me use his plane this morning. There's a private airfield about twenty minutes away."
"You didn't have to come."
"I did have to come. I need the press to see us together, so I can reframe the story on my social media pages."
"Reframe the story? What does that mean?"
"Don't worry about it." She sat down on the end of the bed and pulled him down next to her. "It's been so long since I've seen you. You look good."
"Thanks. You look as beautiful as always." He wasn't lying, but he also didn't feel any chemistry anymore. She was too much: too made up, too styled, too perfumed. She was right in front of him, but he felt like he was looking at a photograph.
"The innkeeper insisted on giving me my own room," Nikki added with a roll of her eyes. "But I can move my stuff to your room now that you're here."
"Uh, how long are you planning to stay?"
"I'm not sure. Why?" She sat back, giving him a disgruntled look. "You're not happy to see me, are you?"
"I told you that I'm focused on my rehab. I'm on a break now. I have to be back at the center for an afternoon session."
"Can't you take some time off?"
"No, I can't. You shouldn't have come."
Hurt filled her eyes. "Dante, I'm your girlfriend. Why don't you let me help you?"
He would have felt more touched if he thought she actually wanted to help him, but she had not pressed to be with him at any point since his injury. She'd been happy to wait until he was completely back to normal. She'd never wanted to sit in the hospital with him or even hang out in Denver, where he'd done his initial recovery. It was only because of the story the press had made up that she'd felt compelled to come and see him. She was worried ab
out how she was looking, not how he was feeling.
Maybe he was being too cynical, but he didn't think so. "You can help me by going back to LA," he said. "My whole career is riding on this rehab."
"I understand that, and I want you to get better. I want you to go back to doing what you do. I can help you."
"You really can't."
"I can," she said with determination. "I can get the press off your back and stop them from making up nonsensical stories about you and that woman. My being here will put an end to that."
"I think your presence will just draw more photographers."
"Let me worry about that. You focus on your rehab. I'll handle the media."
"I'd rather you just went back to LA."
"Well, I'm not going to do that yet. You may not think you need me, but you do."
He was too tired to argue with her. "Fine. We'll talk about this later."
"Tonight. Let's have drinks and dinner. I'll find a good place and text you the address."
"All right. But I'm tied up until five."
"We'll do it at six." She leaned forward and kissed him. "We can move my things later."
"Nikki—we really need to talk about everything."
"We'll do that at dinner. Go, do your thing. We'll talk later."
He knew he couldn't keep letting her put him off. He just didn't have time to get into a big scene, and with Nikki, big scenes were a fairly common occurrence. "I'll see you later."
As he walked out of the room, he blew out a frustrated breath. Nikki's surprise appearance had done one thing—it had shown him in very clear-cut terms that she was not the woman he wanted.
But the woman he now wanted he couldn't have.
Keira stared at the wedding dress on the sewing table in front of her. After a busy morning in the shop, she'd taken a late lunch break in the back room of her store to work on Hannah's dress, but she'd been staring at it so long, her eyes were blurring. When her manager, Connie, popped her head into the room, it was a relief to be forced to look away.
"I just wanted to remind you that I'm leaving early today," Connie said. "My mother has to go to the doctor, and she needs a ride."
If We Never Met Page 10