“I’d love that.”
We chat a few more minutes and the chill starts to overcome me. “I’ll call you later, Mom. I’m outside in New York. It’s freezing. Dash is inside a coffee shop working.”
“Get back to your man. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I disconnect quickly and try to call my father again. When he doesn’t answer, I text him. Next, I dial the number that texted me earlier, but once again to no avail. I send a text. I wait a moment in hope of a reply, and that’s when that strange vibe of being watched that I had back in Nashville returns. Instantly uneasy, my gaze lifts left, right, and all around. There are just so many people and windows above us across the street in the buildings, that I can’t really be sure the sensation is for not. Maybe it’s Brandon, sizing us up before he makes a move. Then again, this feeling started in Nashville. It’s then that I realize that I haven’t thought of Allison in days. I wonder who has, if anyone? She seems to be fairly alone in the world. I think about myself, and how few people I had in my life before Dash and Bella.
I make a vow then that when I get back to Nashville, I’ll find her.
For now, the creepy feeling of being watched won’t go away, and I hurry back inside the coffee shop.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The definition, per Websters, for anticipation is rather simple.
1: excitement about something that's going to happen She looked forward to the trip with anticipation. 2: the act of preparing for something.
Obviously, Webster keeps things pretty simple. Anticipation is more than excitement or the act of preparing for “something.” First of all, anticipation isn’t always about excitement. Sometimes it’s about dread or nervousness or uncertainty. It’s the act of expecting “something” to happen and having that expectation become a living, breathing entity all in and of itself.
Waiting for my three o’clock coffee date is that and more. All of those things wrapped up in one big ball of energy that seems to ping pong through my body. At a quarter until three, Dash shuts his MacBook and says, “Too bad this meeting isn’t in a bar instead of a coffee shop, because clearly you need a shot.”
“You do remember how badly I drink, right?”
“With the amount of caffeine in you right now, I think a little booze wouldn’t hurt you one little bit.”
“I’m not sure either of us wants to see that version of me with my father or Brandon.”
His lips curve. “I think it could be rather amusing, at least with Brandon.”
“I might qualify for a character in a horror movie in that situation.” I glance at the time on my phone. Ten more minutes. “I’m nervous.”
Dash leans closer. “Why?”
“I don’t want you to fight—”
“Already covered. I’m not going to fight. What else?”
I draw a breath on the difficult admission I force myself to speak. “Brandon will try to humiliate me in front of you.”
“Impossible. And Brandon will be focused on me. It’s a guy thing. It’s a power thing.”
“He likes power as much as you do.”
“Liking it and owning it are two different things, baby. You should know that by now.”
He’s right again. “I do,” I say. “He demands it. You own it.”
His eyes warm with approval, his voice softening. “Then stop worrying.”
“If my father shows up, and you’re here, he won’t be confrontational. That’s not how my father operates. He uses his fame to seduce people. I’m not sure how he’ll handle you. You’re more famous than he is.”
“I’m more concerned with how he handles you, Allie. You’re his daughter. I’d like to think he’d fight for you.”
“I think the problem is that he did, and he showed his character in doing so, but the truth is, I never gave him the chance to explain himself. I was angry and assumed he did everything as Brandon said he did, and Brandon isn’t exactly a reliable source. But he didn’t deny anything. And he didn’t stop me when I left. He didn’t fight for me then, but maybe I hurt him when I assumed his guilt.”
“He showed up at that party at Tyler’s house. Maybe he wanted to talk.”
“And yet, the message he sent me wasn’t about me, or that, but rather you.”
“That could be an excuse to see you.”
I glance at the time again and then the door. “It’s three now,” I say. “Why isn’t he, or someone else, here?”
Dash captures my hand under the table. “It’s going to be okay. You’re facing this. That’s a good thing.”
“It’s closure,” I say. “I think it’s necessary.” I hesitate and ask, “Did you ever get that with your father?”
“Sometimes closure is truly accepting there is nothing you can do to change a situation. In that regard, yes, I have closure. Nothing will change for me with my father. I don’t want him in my life. I know that. You don’t about yours.”