When I Say Yes (Necklace Trilogy 3)

“Bingo.” He pulls us onto the road. “Speaking of bingo. How do you get five sweet, kind, angelic, Christian old ladies at the community center to swear like sailors?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“It’s a joke. What’s the punchline?”

“Ah, tell them there’s no more chocolate?”

He laughs, low and masculine, and says, “No, but that would probably work. The answer is, have a sixth one shout, ‘Bingo!’”

I surprise myself and laugh. “Thanks for that.”

“Well, hopefully, a ride and a smile are all you need tonight but just in case there’s more, put my number in your phone.”

I pull out my phone and by the time I’m in front of my building, I’ve stored his number, Lucifer’s, and Jacob’s. “Now go try to relax. Hopefully, Dash won’t go to the fight night and you won’t see me again, unless it’s at Riptide.”

“Thanks, Adrian,” I say sincerely, appreciating all Mark and Walker are doing for me and Dash, even if Dash doesn’t appreciate their efforts as I do.

Exiting the vehicle, I huddle into myself and my coat as I run through the night that is far more bitter cold than just the weather, and enter my building. Once I’m at my door, my heart sinks and I realize some part of me hoped Dash would be here waiting. Silly girl. Tricks are for kids. I enter my apartment and glance at my watch. I have hours here to fret before any news will follow. I shiver with the low temperature of my apartment and turn up the heat. With my coat still on, I walk to the kitchen, fill a glass with wine, and read the message I sent to Dash. I’m not going back to Nashville, Dash. Not now and maybe not ever. So tell Neil to stop contacting me.

Neil hasn’t contacted me again. God, maybe he read the message. Maybe he just wants me to go away and instead I’m riding in with the cavalry to save him. I down the wine and pour another glass. I don’t even care just how badly me and more wine mix.

CHAPTER FOUR

Neil does, in fact, call.

After my relief that Dash has not blown me off completely over my message, I check myself. Dash may not have even seen that message. He could be that disconnected, with only one love right now, and it’s not me. It’s fighting. I don’t answer any of Neil’s attempts to communicate. There’s really no point. I’m not going to the airport. I’m not going anywhere until I hear from Lucifer.

I wait for his call as time ticks by with such excruciating slowness. Trying to stay busy, I change into a casual skirt, boots, and a warm sweater, all of which I’d left here in my closet, in my apartment. Unfortunately, I have no tights left here that are not ripped so my thigh highs are all I have to keep me warm. This brings me to the dilemma of all my personal items that are still in Dash’s hotel room, and back in his apartment in Nashville, which was never really mine—I know that now—is a real one. I debate going to the hotel now, when he’s gone, when the retrieval of my things would be far less sticky. But then I check myself yet again. I don’t know Dash isn’t in his room. I know he doesn’t want me in his room. After all, he didn’t say, “Go to the room, Allie.” He said, “Go home.” With this painful thought in mind, I inventory my closet and my kitchen, and decide a good way to kill the wait will be a run to the store for basics like coffee, creamer, shampoo, conditioner, and so on.

I do just that and while it keeps me busy, it’s a painful dose of reality. I need these things, I think, filling my shopping bag because these things are for my apartment, which is my home again.

No.

It was always my home. I was just visiting elsewhere.

I’ll fly to Nashville for the critical coordination of the auction, and for Thanksgiving and Christmas, as well. Of course, there is the auction that Dash will be at and I’ll have to attend, but I’ll stay busy and far away from him.

All of these decisions are made by the time I walk back into my apartment. I unpack my bags with at least an hour left until I will hear something about the fight lineup for the night. I down the last of glass number four of my wine, my mind going back to the cocktail party. To that moment after Brandon had cornered me. When Dash had pulled me into a quiet place, just me and him, the rest of the world shut out. I squeeze my eyes shut and I’m there again.

Dash slides one hand between my shoulder blades and molds me close, and the other holds my head. “Do not be embarrassed with me, Allie. God, woman, I love you so fucking much you don’t ever have to be embarrassed.”