What If I Never (Necklace Trilogy 1)

“I wonder if you’re not more spontaneous than you might think,” he observes. “Do you regret your decision?”

“My mother says regrets are for sinking ships,” I say, and the statement punches at me pretty darn hard. She never once thought of herself as a sinking ship, and yet that is how I’ve felt about myself these past few weeks. “I like to think I’m not that.”

“Wise words from a beautiful lady.”

My cheeks heat with a compliment from this man of all men. “Thank you, and you must be freezing.” I motion to the side street. “I’m right over there. You don’t have to—”

“No,” he says. “I don’t, but I want to. I’m coming with you.”

His insistence pleases me.

We head in that direction, and I dig the keys out of my purse to my ancient college car, a Nissan Altima that’s seen better days, not sure why my mother kept the thing, but glad for it now. I don’t actually have another car and with good reason. Parking is expensive in New York City, and traffic is hell.

“This is me,” I say, stopping at the driver’s door and click the locks before turning to face him. “Thank you for walking me.” I slide out of his jacket and offer it back to him.

He accepts it and slips it on, but he doesn’t make any effort to leave. He’s studying me again, a bit intensely actually. “Why were you at the party tonight?” he asks.

“I’m here in Nashville for a few months, until January actually. Tyler needs help with his charity auction. I’m going to fill in for the other Allison.” I know then that I’ve made my decision. I’m taking the job.

“You’re going to work for Tyler,” he says, and there’s an odd vibe of disapproval to his tone.

“Yes. I agreed to work for Tyler.”

“What about Riptide?” he asks.

“I’m forging a partnership between Hawk Legal and Riptide and, in the meantime, helping a good cause. The auction is for charity.” I frown. “I actually don’t even know what it is yet or which Hawk client chose the charity. I’m passionate about helping a good cause. I can’t believe I didn’t ask for details but it’s your chosen organization, right?”

“Drive Sober and Safely. Yes. It’s my charity. And I’m sure you’ll do an amazing job. Goodnight, Allison.” He steps back from me, turns, and walks away. It’s as if I’ve turned a switch from on to off, and I don’t know why.

CHAPTER TEN

I arrive at my parents’ place in the old Nashville neighborhood of Germantown at ten o’clock.

It’s late for my mom and stepdad, who are early to bed and earlier to rise, but with the garage on the east side of the house, I easily slip inside and kill the engine without disturbing them. The walk to the pool house where I’ve been staying the past three months is down a short, dark path I know well. I didn’t grow up in this house, but I spent my later teen years here, and a few friends and I adored the pool house. It was our hideaway. Sneaking to it in the dark was a skill I mastered oh so well. Doing so felt naughty but really quite nice since that was the extent of my bad girl years.

Truly, I had no idea what naughty was back then. I wish sometimes that I could return to that age of innocence, but then again, I’m not convinced I wouldn’t make the same mistakes all over again.

Reaching the door easily, I unlock it, and once I’m inside the house, I turn on the lights and kick off my shoes, leaving them by the door.

Inhaling on a familiar scent, I realize, with a mixed reaction of hot and cold, that I can smell Dash’s cologne on my clothes.

I left him back at the museum, but he’s still with me in all kinds of ways. I’m coordinating an auction for his chosen charity, for his legal counsel. I will see him again. I’m thrilled by the prospect but also fretful. I’m confused about this man. I’m confused about a lot of things in my life right now.

Suddenly parched, I walk to the fridge, grab a bottle of water and then sit down at the kitchen bar that serves as my table. The pool house is tiny, the air doesn’t work, but thankfully the cooler weather has delivered me some relief on that end. Not that tiny really matters to me. I live and rent in Manhattan where tiny apartments rule. I rent, but right before my mother’s illness, I’d been considering buying a place. I’d thought it represented stability and independence, but buying a home wouldn’t have made me feel any more stable when my mother was fighting for her life. Nothing will ever make me feel stable again, not even her remission. I’ll always fear the next cancer scan.