When I Say Yes (Necklace Trilogy 3)

But Tyler was also right. The illusion of having what you do not is real.

In Dash’s case, that was responsibility for his brother’s death. Inexplicably, somehow, it’s his father who both created that illusion and now has torn it away. How? I do not know, but he was Dash’s father, and no matter what, losing him is painful. Perhaps surviving that means Dash must forgive himself for what his father could not.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

A private memorial service, rather than a funeral, will be held for Dash’s father after the New Year. Dash is still not invited. I suspect this was a decision his stepmother made to avoid the bad press over Dash not being present. The delay allows the “story” in the press to fade and become less interesting. I think it helps soften Dash’s discomfort over not attending as well, which is a blessing. He’s struggled with his father’s death, but seems fairly okay right now, but then, Dash always seems fairly okay, even when he’s not. For that reason, I spend most of the next week at home with Dash and do so with Tyler’s vote of approval.

The film people give him a breather that he needs as well, and Dash dives into his book, determined to make that finish line goal of Thanksgiving. I decide it’s the escape from the real world he needs. But he also jogs a lot, which means so do I. I figure it’s a great way to get ready for our Thanksgiving feast, which will be worth every mile needed to pay for it. My mom’s a nurse, Ms. Watch Your Cholesterol herself, but when it comes to the holidays, healthy isn’t even in the vocabulary.

It’s Thanksgiving eve when Bella stops with a bottle of wine with an offer from the studio Dash met with before his father’s passing. Once our glasses are filled and we’re all at the island, as we are often now, she says, “They want a decision right after the holiday and no later. It’s a good deal, Dash. It will make you a richer man than you already are, not that you care about the money. The creative terms you wanted are almost all in place.”

“I’ll look it over,” is all he says.

When Bella leaves, I take the opportunity to talk to him. “You still don’t feel comfortable with that studio, do you?”

“I have a gut feeling they are going to butcher the project. They don’t understand or care about my vision.”

“Which is a mistake we’ve seen at the box office with many book-to-film projects, but maybe Bella got the wording right. Read it.”

“After I finish the book. I’m close.”

“Before Thanksgiving?”

“Probably after, but not by much.”

I snap my fingers. “Well, get to work so I can read it.”

He laughs and we end up on the living room floor, using the coffee table as our desks again.

I dig in my purse and eye Allison’s journal, which I haven’t touched in a week. I don’t want to bother Dash with my worries for Allison right now and I text Neil: Anything on the investigation?

No, he says. I’m good at my job and I haven’t found her. That’s not good for her.

No, I think. It’s not. I pull up Allison’s number and type: Where are you, Allison?

No one replies.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Thanksgiving turns into a memorable day. Dash and I wake up in bed together, drink coffee together, and end up in the shower together. We stand there holding each other with the water running over us and I don’t miss the way he holds me a little tighter than usual. Both of his parents and his brother are gone. There’s no way the holiday doesn’t bring back memories of times when they were all a family. I’m worried about him today so I, too, hold him a little bit tighter than normal.

Once Bella arrives at the house, we head to my parents’ place where Dash eases up a bit and is much more himself. Of course, my mother and stepfather greet us all with hugs and the house smells of divine temptations. Bella and my mother hit it off, and the three of us chat in the kitchen while finishing up the meal. Dash and my stepfather put up the tree and run the lights. We all stuff our faces, decorate the tree, and then watch Bella’s father’s race. I watch Dash, wondering if the father connection will rattle him, but he’s wildly into the race, cheering, absorbed in the moment.

After her father wins said race, the group of us dig into the variety of desserts, of which, there are many. Bella finishes off a slice of coconut pie—my mother’s coconut pie is to die for—and declares it, “The best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

Dash agrees.

It’s a good day, I think again, and Bella confirms as much as we leave my parents’ house. “It was so nice to have a family holiday. Thank you for inviting me.”