Brandon, I think.
It has to be Brandon.
Which proves how little he knew me if he thinks my father is the person who can lure me to coffee.
Seeming to sense my presence, Dash turns to face me, his eyes lighting on me as if I light up his world the way he does mine. I know this is true, but there is this part of me, this insecure part of me, that struggles to see this reality when I know he loves me. A damaged, broken part of me I’d like to blame on Brandon, but the truth is, that’s a lie I tell myself. I know, deep in my heart and soul, that I have to own how I allow myself to process life, how I allow events and people to affect me. I define my character. They do not.
“Coffee, at your service, cupcake,” Dash announces, motioning to the pot on the table.
If he’s upset over this thing with my father wanting to talk to me about him, he’s not showing it. He joins me on the couch and pours my coffee, doctoring it to just the perfect place. He knows how much cream, how much Splenda. He knows me well and he hasn’t known me long. Because he tries, I think. Dash actually wants to know what I like, so he puts in the effort to find out the little details that matter in ways I don’t think I even realized until him.
I sip the warm beverage and say, “This is good, but I miss that coffee we started making at the apartment.”
“You mean at home, baby?” he challenges softly.
My chest pinches with a kaleidoscope of emotion. “Yes. At home.”
“You didn’t want to call it that,” he accuses softly. “We’ll fix that, I swear, Allie.”
“Dash—”
“We’ll fix it.” He clicks a few buttons on his phone and moves away from the emotional topic to our current situation with my father. “I know how your father knows you’re in town and that we’re together,” he says, showing me an image of me and him together at the signing on what appears to be the Daily Report, a wildly popular news site with a celebrity section.
“My God, my hair is standing up,” I say, cringing.
He laughs. “You look beautiful, baby. The point here is he knew we went public. We just forgot the obvious when talking about that text from your father.”
“Or he’s talking to Brandon again. Or it’s Brandon himself texting me.” I set my cup down. “But whatever the case, Dash, I realize now that pushing them away, shutting them out, was me trying to shut out my problems and not deal with them. I was running, and look where it got me. Look where it got us.”
“No. You chose not to have them in your life, Allie. That’s not running. That’s a decision and one you were smart to make, considering what I now know.”
“No matter how right or logical it seems, my state of mind is what ultimately matters. I was running, Dash. I wanted a new life. Granted, publishing was not as fulfilling as I’d expected it to be, but even my new job is, at least to some degree, a way to distance myself from the past. Though it’s also an amazing opportunity and a place I’ve thrived.”
“I was going to talk to you about that.”
I twist around to face him. “I was going to talk to you about it, too.”
“You want me to go first, or you first?”
“You,” I say quickly, eager to know his point of view.
“Why don’t we look for a place to live here in New York.”
I blink. I mean, I know he referenced this in the past, but the idea that he would take action for me, uproot for me, blows me away. “You’d move for me?”
“Is that even a question?”
Last night, he told me to go home, and I’d thought he wanted me to go away. Now, he’s offering to uproot his life for me. I lean over and kiss him on the cheek. He captures me and drags me closer, kissing me well and good before he says, “I’d do anything for you, Allie.” His voice is low and rough with emotion. “Haven’t you figured that out by now?”
I believe him. Because yes, he went to fight last night, but it’s an addiction and he still left the fight for me. One day, it will be for him, too, I vow. I touch his face, love in that touch as I say, “I like being in Nashville.” I sit up. “I need to tell you something. I need to tell you a lot of things about last night, Dash.”
He arches a brow. “What about last night?”
“I called Tyler,” I say quickly, “just to see if he knew where you would go here and of course, he didn’t. I know you hate that and I’m sorry. I was worried. I was scared for you because of Brandon.”