Dash’s words linger with me as the minutes tick by. At three-thirty, I dial my father, but he doesn’t answer. I text him. I text the number that someone claiming to be him texted me with, all for naught. At three forty-five, I turn to Dash. “Let’s go see my father. Let’s go to his apartment.”
Dash packs up his MacBook and with no hesitation, says, “Let’s go.”
“He lives near Central Park. It’s a pretty good hike, but I think I need to walk and think.”
He lifts both of our bags on his broad shoulder. “Then we’ll walk.”
A few minutes later, we’re maneuvering through the hustle and bustle of the busy New York sidewalks, and my mind isn’t filled with the fretting I’d expected. I’m resolved, dogmatic in my determination to embrace closure. I’m reminded of something Queen Compton told me once. I’d been fretting about a man who’d been forced to sell a cherished item.
“As the great Roman philosopher, Seneca, said, ‘Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.’ No one ever said an ending or a new beginning had to be easy to be the right thing to do. In fact, the harder the change, the bigger the reward. Seems to me that not only sums up your customer’s situation, but your recent change of career.”
She was talking about the massive payday that client ended up pocketing and, of course, my career move from publishing to Riptide. And while she’s too sick to offer advice now, her influence is stronger than ever. I swear she’s whispering those same words to me now. “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end,” and they ring truer than ever. But an ending translates to a conclusion. If I want to move on in my life, to let go of my baggage and start fresh with Dash in Nashville, there is no running away. I have to walk away from this life decisively and with closure.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Dash and I reach my father’s fancy Central Park building and pause at the security desk, where Kevin, the tall, dark-haired man with lined, friendly eyes, greets me. Kevin has been in his position for so long he probably knows my father better than I do. “Well, well, Ms. Allie,” he says warmly. “Good to see you back around.” He glances at Dash and then me. “Seems you surround yourself with famous people and still manage to shine brightly. You look lovely as usual.” He eyes Dash again. “And you, sir, are brilliant. I love me some Ghost.”
Dash smiles and shakes his hand. “And you, sir, are right about her. She does shine brightly and she does look lovely.”
“Okay, you two, flattery is not necessary, but thank you both. Is he here, Kevin?”
“I’m afraid not, honey. He’s just left for Europe for some international sporting event he’s commentating. I’ll chide him for not telling you when he returns. And I’m quite certain he’d enjoy meeting Dash Black.”
I draw in a breath. “Thanks, Kevin. Yes. We’re leaving soon, so I thought we’d catch him.”
“I’ll tell him you came by.”
I nod and turn to Dash. Dash offers Kevin a folded bill I assume to be large, because this is Dash, as he says, “Please don’t. We have a surprise in mind.”
“Oh, of course,” Kevin replies, but he waves off the bill. “You don’t have to pay me. I’m happy to stay out of what is none of my business.”
“All the more reason I want you to take it,” Dash says. “Not very many people are that honorable. Please. Happy holiday season.”
Right about then, someone walks by in a fairy costume, and I realize it’s actually Halloween.
Kevin doesn’t notice. He’s focused on Dash. He hesitates, but finally accepts the tip. “Thank you, sir. That is greatly appreciated.”
“Thanks, Kevin,” I say.
“You’re very welcome. I’m just glad to see you come back around again.”
“Happy holiday season,” I say, trying to keep my voice perky, but the reality of the situation is starting to hit me. Today is not about conclusions and closure. My father didn’t contact me. Someone else did. That someone is probably Brandon, who vowed revenge on me through Dash. The minute Dash and I are outside, amid the crazy wash of the people-paved walkway, we instinctively take a few steps to the right of the busy doorway, I turn to face him. We’re almost taken out by a woman wearing a witch hat and we instinctively move away from the door and near the wall. His hands come down on my shoulders and he says, “I love you.”
Those three words don’t have the impact he wishes for. “And I love you, too, which is exactly why I cannot allow Brandon to hurt you.”
“I’m not that easy to hurt, Allie.”
“But you’re human, Dash, even if you don’t like to admit it. And you’re high-profile. You have a big ol’ target on your forehead. He knows about your fighting. I know he knows. It was something he said, it was how cocky he was, the way he baited you.”