When I Say Yes

by Lisa Renee Jones

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  For the next two days, Dash is holed up at home working, still crunching the backend of his book. His goal is to be nearly done with the book by Thanksgiving and it appears he might just do it.

  For me, those same next few days have me arriving to work feeling festive and excited. The auction is coming together. My life has come together. And my mother is so excited about seeing Keith Urban that it’s fun just thinking about us all going together. For the most part, Tyler and I avoid each other, but with plans to leave early Friday for the concert, I decide I need to let him know.

  With a peace offering, a vanilla cupcake in hand, I luck out to find his secretary gone to lunch—not that I planned it that way or anything like that. Trying to be respectful, I peek my head in and suck in a breath to find him and his father at his window again. Damn it, no. I try to back away and escape but I hear Tyler say, “Ms. Wright. Why are you scurrying about like a mouse?”

  How did he know I was here?

  He turns and so does his father, the two powerful, well-dressed, good-looking men filling the room up with enough testosterone to suffocate a poor little ol’ girl like me. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “I was just telling my son what a good eye he has for talent,” Jack interjects. “Anyone who can get a tightwad to write a twenty-thousand-dollar check is a keeper. You’re making him look good.”

  “What is it there you brought me?” Tyler queries, eyeing the small box in my hand.

  “A cupcake.”

  His eyes dance with amusement. “You brought me a cupcake?”

  “Yes. I heard assholes like cupcakes.” It’s out before I can stop it.

  His father roars with laughter. Tyler surprises me and closes the small space between me and him, accepting the box. He glances at the cupcake and then me. “I’ve always enjoyed vanilla.”

  Somehow, I don’t think he’s talking about the cupcake, but I just called him an asshole in front of his father. I can’t really say I don’t deserve whatever he dishes out.

  “Call me when you’re done here, please?”

  “Yes, Ms. Wright. I will absolutely call you.”

  With that, I back out of the room and hurry down the hallway, mentally face-palming.

  ***

  It’s about an hour later, as I stuff a bite of egg salad sandwich in my mouth, that Tyler appears in my doorway. Once again, I almost choke, and he watches in amusement. While I down water, trying to seem as if I look anything but silly, he steps inside the office and shuts the door.

  “Why did I get a cupcake and an insult today, Ms. Wright?”

  He’s big and intimidating in my office with that door shut and I stand up, trying to even the playing field. “That was a sample of the cupcakes I’m about to invoice you to purchase for the event.”

  “You don’t need my approval for cupcakes,” he says.

  “It’s a lot of cupcakes. We have hundreds of people attending. Did you like it?”

  “Yes. Vanilla is my favorite.”

  “Stop with the vanilla thing, Tyler. We both know your mind is in the gutter.”

  “Never, Ms. Wright. You’re a taken woman and I am nothing if not honorable, contrary to anything Dash might have told you.”

  I ignore his comments. “I’m leaving a little early today.”

  “You don’t need my permission for that, either. You work for Riptide.”

  “Not until January first,” I say, referencing the memo I’d gotten from HR this morning. “Your HR person told me so by email today. My official employment with Hawk legal ends December thirty-first.”

  “Well then, I guess I still have a chance to keep you for myself.”

  “Tyler—”

  “I’d still prefer you work for Hawk Legal, Allie.”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “Because as long as you have one foot out the door, I’ll always believe you’re temporary. And maybe some part of you wants an exit.”

  I round the desk and just like I did once before, I stand in front of him. “Just because you’re not completely in control doesn’t mean this isn’t good or right. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you push me out the door.” I’m thinking about Allison and how he pushed her out the door.

  And he knows. I see it in his eyes. He says, “And are you in control?” he challenges.

  “I—I am.”

  “And Dash is what?”

  “In control of himself.”

  “Exactly. I’m not under the illusion control cannot be shared. Are you?”

  “No.”

  “Then perhaps control is not the problem here.”

  “Then what is?”

  “The illusion of having what you do not.”

  And with that, he turns and leaves.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  The illusion of having what you do not.

  While I can see how they feel real to Tyler—he lost Allison—I am at a different place in life. I lived an illusion in New York. Brandon was an illusion, happiness was an illusion, but that’s not the here and now, that is not the me of the present. For that reason, I set aside that encounter with Tyler and focus on a fun night with the man I love and my parents.

  The concert arrives and it’s a blast to attend. I don’t remember the last time I saw my mother so happy. She sings along with Keith Urban, hugs my stepfather and me, and afterward, we finish the night at mine and Dash’s apartment, where my mother raves about how beautiful it is. With Christmas music playing in the background, and coffees in hand, my mother and I sit by the fireplace and window, talking, as Dash and my stepfather do the same in the kitchen. Meanwhile, my father hasn’t even bothered to return my calls and I don’t know why I care. This is my family.

  “You two are so cute together.”

  “I could say the same of you two,” I tease her.

  “There is something to be said for finding your soul mate, don’t you think?”

  I glance in Dash’s direction and he just happens to be doing the same of me. He winks and my belly flutters. “Oh my,” my mother says. “The way he looks at you, honey. And the way you look at him.”

  I know the topic of marriage is about to come up and thankfully, I’m saved when my cellphone rings on the coffee table and Bella’s number appears on the screen. I set my cup down and answer with a smile. “Hey. How was the race?”

  “I need you to go to the bathroom and call me back and do not tell Dash it’s me. Just pretend I’m a wrong number. Don’t ask questions.” She hangs up.

  Unease rattles through me. “I need to go to the bathroom. Be right back.”

  My mom catches my arm. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. Dash’s sister wants me to go to the bathroom and call her and not let Dash know. She sounds shaken.”

  “Oh dear. Okay.”

  “If I come back and lift a finger, I need you to leave. Okay?”

  “Yes. Of course. We’ll go now.”

  “No. If I don’t stay to say goodbye, Dash will feel something is off. I’ll be right back.”

  She nods and I stand, avoiding Dash’s gaze as I walk around the couches and hurry toward the bedroom. I step into the bathroom and into the toilet area and shut the door. I dial Bella. “I’m alone,” I say, the minute she answers. “What is going on?”

  “Dash’s stepmom called me. It’s really ridiculous she won’t even call him, but in this case, I think it’s for the best. His dad had a massive heart attack, Allie. He died.”

  My hand goes to my neck. “Died?”

  “Yes. He’s gone. And I’m not going to be able to get there until tomorrow. I can call and tell him or you can tell him. What do you want to do?”

  Turn back time and make this go away, I think. “I’ll tell him.”

  “His father’s will says he doesn’t want Dash at his funeral. The bastard had to hurt him one last time. He’s going to want to fight, Allie.”

  “I know. I won’t let him.
”

  “I’m not sure you’ll be able to stop him. I’m going to call Tyler. If he fights, Tyler can try to help shut it down.”

  “Do not let Tyler call or come over here.”

  “I won’t. He’s smarter than that.”

  She keeps talking, but I barely hear what she says. The storm is here and it’s a big one.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Tears burn my eyes, knowing how much this is going to torment Dash, but I wipe them away.

  He needs me to be strong.

  I text my mother and tell her what’s going on. She returns a message: Oh my God. This is horrible. I’m going to go encourage your stepdad toward the door. Let me know how I can help when you have time to process everything.

  Drawing a deep breath, I walk back into the living room to find my mother and stepfather gathering their coats. I hurry forward and give my mother a hug. She whispers in my ear, “Just hold him really hard, honey.”

  I nod and as she steps away from me, Dash slides his arm around my shoulders. My mother and stepfather depart and Dash locks up. My stomach is in knots, literally twisting and turning, and I’m so nervous my chest hurts. Dash turns to face me and the minute he looks at me, he says, “What’s wrong?”

  “I have some bad news. I don’t know how to tell you this. I don’t want to tell you this.”

  He pales. “Bella—”

  “She’s fine,” I say quickly. “She’s trying to get on an earlier flight to get here.”

  “Allie, what’s going on?” I close the space between us and when I would hug him, he catches my shoulders. “What’s going on?”

  “Your father—”

  “What did he do now?”

  “Died, Dash. He died.” The words quake from my mouth. “He had a massive heart attack and he’s—gone.”

  His expression hardens, but his jaw and his hands tremble. “He’s dead,” he repeats.

  “And because I think you need to hear all the bad at once, and I hope I’m right about that—”

  “You are. Say it.”

  “He doesn’t want you at the funeral. It’s in his will.”

  He flinches. “How did you find this out?”

  “Your stepmom called Bella.”

  “Of course she did. She can’t even talk to me.” He releases me and runs a rough hand over his jawline. “I need out of here.” He turns toward the door.

  I’m between it and him in a blink. “No.” My hands plant on his chest. “We both know what happens when you go out that door, Dash. Stay with me.”

  “I need air, Allie. Walk with me.”

  The illusion of having what you do not.

  I’m about to find out if those words apply to me and Dash. “If you go out the door, even with me by your side, I won’t be able to control what comes next. I’m begging you to hold onto me the way I want to hold onto you right now. Use me however you want. Use me, Dash.”

  His jaw is set hard, his eyes half-veiled, seconds ticking by before he takes a wide step backward. “Undress, Allie.”

  The command is unexpected and I can’t help but feel a bit vulnerable myself right now. “While you’re still dressed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you going to leave?”

  He’s back in front of me, hands on my arms, dragging me to him. “Do you think I’d do that to you, Allie? Tell me you don’t.”

  “No,” I say, “but you’re grieving Dash. You both loved and hated him and that’s about as confusing and brutal as it gets. No one is the same in those circumstances.”

  “I’m still me,” he says. “The same me that fucked up with you in the past, but I promised you it wouldn’t happen again. I’m damn sure not losing you over him.”

  My heart swells with his emotionally packed vow. “You aren’t losing me.”

  He strokes my hair. “Then undress, Allie.”

  I nod and he releases my arms. I lean against the door and pull off the combat-style boots I’d changed into before the concert. Next, come my jeans and socks. Then my T-shirt and bra and underwear. When I’m naked, my eyes meet his and what I find is turbulence, pain, and anger, but there is also this unexpected wave of tenderness that is somehow just as intense as all those other emotions.

  Dash moves then, scooping me up and carrying me toward the living room. I cling to him, not sure what to expect right now. He sets me on my feet in front of the couch and he sits. His hands are on my hips when he leans forward and kisses my belly. I expected a wild, dominant side of Dash, especially after he had me undress. My fingers slide into his hair and he looks up at me, pure torment in his eyes. For reasons I can’t explain, I know that this isn’t about wild, intense fucking. Dash feels naked, more naked than simply taking off his clothes would make him.

  “He hated me because I was at the same party as my brother and I didn’t stop my brother from getting in the car.”

  “He was an adult, Dash. Surely your father knew that.”

  “My brother did this all the time. He got drunk. He forced me to babysit him. I’d tried to get him in rehab. Hell, Bella tried, too, and Alex wasn’t even her brother. We both told my father and my stubborn ass stepmother that he needed rehab. No one listened. That night I’d had enough. I was a college kid, Allie. There was this hot chick I wanted to bang and she was with me. I told Alex just to go ahead and get in the fucking car and drive. I was in an upstairs frat house bedroom fucking that chick whose name I can’t even remember when my brother hit that tree.” He drags me onto his lap, my legs straddling his hips, and his head buried against my neck, arms around my waist.

  He holds me, his body quaking, my hand on the back of his head. “It wasn’t your responsibility to save him, Dash.”

  He pulls back and looks at me, his eyes bloodshot. “Then who else was going to save him?” His voice rasps with emotion.

  “Him,” I say. “He had to make the decision to get help. Just like you need to choose something other than fighting.”

  “I did choose,” he says softly, roughly. “I chose you.”

  “And I chose you. None of this even comes close to changing that.”

  He pulls my mouth to his and then we’re kissing, a kiss that is passion, pain, and tenderness, and yet, it’s wild and full of demand. I tug his shirt over his head and he tosses it away, standing with me to undress. And when we come back together, me on top, the thick ridge of his erection pressed inside me, there is vulnerability between us. We are exposed in every way together, and it’s the most beautiful, wildly passionate experience of my life. Dash’s hands and mouth are all over my body and mine are all over his.

  Much later when we lay on the couch, our naked bodies entwined, Dash does what he has never done. He tells me stories about his brother—happy, funny stories—but there are none of his father, which hurts my heart. At some point, we fall asleep and I wake to Dash inside me again, making love to me. Afterward, he carries me to the bed, and I’m relieved when he falls asleep next to me, his breathing steady.

  The storm has withdrawn, at least for tonight, but tomorrow is a new day.

  We wake the next morning to Bella knocking on the door. The minute Dash sees her, he hugs her and she hugs him. Her eyes meet mine in the midst of his embrace, and she must sense that he’s okay, because she whispers, “Thank you.”

  We head to the kitchen, where Bella promises us a feast. It’s about that time that Tyler sends me a text: How is he?

  I reply with: Sorrowful and hopeful, but he’s okay. We are getting through it.

  We exchange a few more messages and I put my phone away, joining Dash and Bella at the kitchen island.

  Waffles and coffee follow and as Dash tells Bella a few of the stories he told me, I realize that in some ways he never grieved for his brother. Somehow losing his father has brought forth a need to grieve both men. And with that genuine grief, he’s healing.

  But Tyler was also right. The illusion of having what you do not is real.

  In Dash’s case, that was
responsibility for his brother’s death. Inexplicably, somehow, it’s his father who both created that illusion and now has torn it away. How? I do not know, but he was Dash’s father, and no matter what, losing him is painful. Perhaps surviving that means Dash must forgive himself for what his father could not.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  A private memorial service, rather than a funeral, will be held for Dash’s father after the New Year. Dash is still not invited. I suspect this was a decision his stepmother made to avoid the bad press over Dash not being present. The delay allows the “story” in the press to fade and become less interesting. I think it helps soften Dash’s discomfort over not attending as well, which is a blessing. He’s struggled with his father’s death, but seems fairly okay right now, but then, Dash always seems fairly okay, even when he’s not. For that reason, I spend most of the next week at home with Dash and do so with Tyler’s vote of approval.

  The film people give him a breather that he needs as well, and Dash dives into his book, determined to make that finish line goal of Thanksgiving. I decide it’s the escape from the real world he needs. But he also jogs a lot, which means so do I. I figure it’s a great way to get ready for our Thanksgiving feast, which will be worth every mile needed to pay for it. My mom’s a nurse, Ms. Watch Your Cholesterol herself, but when it comes to the holidays, healthy isn’t even in the vocabulary.

  It’s Thanksgiving eve when Bella stops with a bottle of wine with an offer from the studio Dash met with before his father’s passing. Once our glasses are filled and we’re all at the island, as we are often now, she says, “They want a decision right after the holiday and no later. It’s a good deal, Dash. It will make you a richer man than you already are, not that you care about the money. The creative terms you wanted are almost all in place.”

  “I’ll look it over,” is all he says.

  When Bella leaves, I take the opportunity to talk to him. “You still don’t feel comfortable with that studio, do you?”

  “I have a gut feeling they are going to butcher the project. They don’t understand or care about my vision.”

  “Which is a mistake we’ve seen at the box office with many book-to-film projects, but maybe Bella got the wording right. Read it.”