Because I Can (Necklace Trilogy 2)

If I don’t find a way to break through to Dash, he’ll fight again. And he’ll shut me out when he does.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Dash doesn’t say another word about his father.

After that cold, sexy encounter on the hotel balcony, we go to the gym and he runs for an hour. After that, we go to the room and have sex again. We wake up and repeat. Sex. Gym. Sex. All of this is a better outlet than fighting or booze, which the latter doesn’t seem to be a vice for Dash. Just as he didn’t let Tyler drive Allison home drunk, he doesn’t let us drive drunk either. For all his self-hate, Dash is an amazing, giving person. I’m baffled as to why his father wouldn’t feel the same.

It’s almost noon when we eat a light lunch in the room. Dash heads to the shower, and I call Bella, who’s been texting with me since Dash ordered her to stay home.

“How is he?”

“Broody,” I say. “Don’t tell me details, it’s his story to tell, but do you even know why they hate each other?”

“No. He doesn’t talk about it, and that’s saying a lot considering how close we are.”

“Yes. And I’m glad for it, Bella. He needs you.”

“He needs you, too. I want to come there, I want to help.”

“He knows that. And that’s enough. He wants to fly home after the signing anyway. He chartered a plane,” I say, sharing the news Dash had shared with me before we ever went to bed last night.

“I think that might be a good idea. Call me after the signing. Or text me if you can’t call.”

“I will,” I promise, and set my phone down, praying this signing isn’t going to go as badly as I think it might.

***

Dash dresses for the signing in black jeans, a thin black sweater, and a jacket, that he pairs with his favorite black boots. He looks handsome, cool, and every bit the famous writer that he’s become. I wear a downplayed black dress for a reason. This day is about Dash. My role is one of support, my attention, and everyone else’s, will be on him.

The signing itself is at a hotel overlooking Battery Park, where the ocean views are second only to the direct line of sight that is the Statue of Liberty. And holy wow, there are people waiting to get into the hotel everywhere. “They have to be freezing.”

“I have loyal fans,” Dash says, glancing over at me. “But then, so does my father.”

Not like Dash, I think, and I wonder if that’s a problem between them, perhaps not “the” problem, but a problem.

Dash laces his fingers with mine. “Stay with me, even when I’m signing.”

“I’ll be right there,” I promise, certain this attachment is about the other promise I made, to avoid his father.

The driver pulls us to a side entrance and security ushers us inside. A petite woman with dark hair and glasses, whose age I just can’t name, greets us. Tina, as she tells us is her name, quickly declares herself Dash’s ambassador. Ambassador of what, I don’t know, but apparently making him comfortable because she guides us to a private room where there are chairs, water, a television, and snacks.

“Your father is one room over,” she says. “Or he will be when he arrives. We’d planned on doing a little chat with both of you and the press before we opened the doors, but we’ll have to run with that after the event. He’s running late. The guests are outside freezing their asses off so we will want to start right on time.” She eyes her watch. “That’s in half an hour. Can I get you anything now?”

“No,” Dash says. “We’re good.”

Her phone buzzes with a message, she quickly reads before she says, “Dash, I just got word that the powers that be would like to go forward with the photo op and question-and-answer session without your father. Are you okay with that?”

“That’s why I’m here,” he says. “To do whatever I need to do to ensure the event is successful.”

“I heard you were down to earth and really great to work with. I heard right. Give me five and I’ll be back to get you.

She exits and Dash glances over at me. “Chicken shit is hiding.”

“You don’t think he’ll no show, do you?”

“No. He’ll come in the last minute to avoid being compared to me on stage, or better yet, asked about me being his pride and joy. He’d choke on the words.”

I step to him and wrap my arms around him. “Well, I’m excited to experience this. I can’t wait to see all the fans that love you almost as much as I do.”

“You love me, huh?” he says, molding me closer.

“I do, Dash,” I say, surprised at how easily those words roll off my tongue. “Very much.”