When I Say Yes (Necklace Trilogy 3)

“If Brandon shows up, don’t beat him up, Dash. He’ll try to provoke you.”

Dash’s lips curve. “Well, it’s nice to know you know how easily I could beat your ex’s ass, but that would be so easy that it wouldn’t be much of a challenge. Or very satisfying. I prefer to beat him at a different game.”

“Which is what?”

He catches my hand and kisses it. “Keeping you.”

I warm with this sweet statement, but Dash is too nonchalant about the Brandon thing. “What are you up to, Dash Black?”

“Me? Up to something?”

“Don’t play coy.”

It’s at that moment that a man walks up to our table and says, “Are you Dash Black? God, man, I love your books.”

Two more people follow him, and then another. It’s a steady trail of people and Dash is humble and generous with his time. When we’re finally alone again, I say, “I love how you are. Just so you know. All of you. Even the broken parts, Dash.”

His eyes darken, a sharp spark of emotion in their depths before he shoves whatever I’ve made him feel away, and teases, “You’re the glue to my glass, baby,” and then softly adds. “And I love how you are, too.”

“I don’t want to come back here, Dash. I know I told you I did, but I don’t. And it’s not about running. Not this time.”

“I know that, baby, or I wouldn’t let it happen.”

His phone buzzes with a text message and he glances at the message, his lips twitching slightly before he glances up at me. “Bella’s dad is driving on Thanksgiving, so she’s coming to Thanksgiving dinner with one condition—we watch him race.”

“I forget all about her father when I shouldn’t do that. I know she’s close to him. I don’t even know where he lives.”

“He has a place in Nashville and North Carolina. North Carolina is where most of the drivers live, which is why it’s nicknamed Race City, USA.”

“I see. I feel bad that I’ve ignored that part of her life, but I’m excited that she’s coming. I have to tell my mom. She is going to be so happy. It will be like a big family Thanksgiving.”

Dash’s lips curve. “Yes, it will, baby, and I for one have not had one of those in a very long time. Neither has Bella. She often goes to the track, but this year she said she really would like to stay in Nashville. I had a feeling she’d feel that way. She loves her father, but his career makes it hard for them to have quality time together.”

“I’m really glad she’s coming. What do you normally do?”

“Go with her when I can.”

I lean over and kiss his cheek. “I’m thrilled to have you both with me. And my mom will be, too. I’m going to call her outside so I don’t keep you from writing. And because she will squeal so loudly the whole coffee shop will hear.”

He laughs and I stand up, sliding on my coat as I hurry toward the door.

I shouldn’t step outside into a cold day, but I don’t care, I’m too eager to talk to my mother. I step to the left of the door, as the sidewalk bustles with people, horns honking, voices lifting in what is just another day in Manhattan. It has a life of its own, but the thing is, so does Nashville. Sometimes we push back on what is comfortable and safe as boring. Our soul seeks growth and adventure therefore we spread our wings and fly far away, only to return home to discover it’s always been the place happiness blooms. I blossomed in New York. I bloomed when I returned to Nashville.

With Dash.

“Allie,” my mother answers. “Oh my God, I just saw the photos of you and Dash. You looked beautiful and he is such a looker.”

I laugh. “Yes. Yes, he is. And my hair was standing up.”

“I didn’t notice. I just saw your beauty.”

“And I love you for it, Mom. I do.”

“I guess you two are pretty official now, huh?”

“How’s this for official?” I ask. “Dash and his sister are coming for Thanksgiving. They’re looking forward to a family dinner.”

“That is fabulous. Oh my. It will be a big family holiday. But oh my,” she says again. “I mean, our house is very humble. I’m sure Dash’s place, I mean your place now, too, is gorgeous—which I’d like to see by the way—but should we have it there?”

My place with Dash. God, I love how real that is, how much more real after this weekend, it somehow feels. But as to her worry, I say, “Dash has never once made me feel like your home was anything but perfect, Mom. I think the very idea that it’s your home is what makes it special.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely, but when we get back you should come over.”