Because I Can (Necklace Trilogy 2)

But the only way this works is if I do, and I can only hope that one day, in the not-so-distant future, I will.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Dash and I throw on comfy clothes, sweats, and T-shirts, order tacos, and stuff our faces on the living room floor with the intention of working after our bellies are full. He’s more himself now, his mood distinctively lighter. Even his bruised and abused eye looks far less swollen after I forced him to do the whole ice/heat rotation after our workout. And since I keep arnica for bruises and puffy eyes, I’ve got him slathering that on every few hours, as well.

“I can’t believe you got pineapple on your tacos,” Dash says, finishing off a chicken taco of his own.

“It’s good,” I say. “And it’s not only pineapple. It’s chicken and pineapple. You should try it.”

“No way,” he says, rejecting all. “No pineapple on my tacos. Never gonna happen.”

I laugh and sip my diet Sprite which I was thrilled to find out the restaurant stocked. No one ever does. “Experience threads through books. You can use tacos in your book, but you have to taste them to describe them.”

“Well hell, bring on the pineapple then.” He motions to my plate. I offer it to him and he dives in for a daringly large bite, then grunts. “I still don’t like pineapple on my taco but I’m superstitious enough about my writing that if I have a good day, that’s my new taco.”

“Well then get to work,” I say, swishing a make-believe whip. “Words. Write the words.”

“Yes ma’am,” he says, offering me a salute.

“I’ll make coffee. After the night we had, we need coffee.”

“Yes, we do,” he says, his eyes lighting with mischief. “You might just make me love you, baby, if you keep all this coffee business up.”

My belly flutters with the words, that take me way, way off guard. “I ah—well, wait until you taste the coffee. I’m not the best brewer, but I try hard.” With that, I try to stand.

Dash catches my hand, his voice low, roughened up as he says. “I’m glad you’re here, Allie.”

The comment surprises me, pleases me, takes me off guard, but perhaps it shouldn’t. There’s a notably new intimacy between us since our little bathroom chat. Almost as if we both sense we’re stronger for almost breaking up, and choosing to fight our way back to each other.

“I’m glad I’m here, too.”

Spontaneously, I lean over and kiss his cheek. He catches my head and drags me closer, kissing me properly before he says, “Hmm. You taste like Pineapple.”

“So do you,” I assure him.

“And you,” he says. “I taste like you, Allie. And that’s a good thing.”

I’m smiling when he releases me and I head into the kitchen. Once I have a cinnamon flavored coffee brewing, I text Tyler: I tried to call you. I’d really like to meet and talk.

While I wait for a reply and the brewed coffee, I prepare two cups with a sweet cream flavored creamer from the fridge. Tyler hasn’t replied but my mother apparently texted me hours ago: Can you and Dash come for brunch tomorrow?

My mother is now asking for Dash. Isn’t that something? Oh, what an impression he’s made on her, and on me. I never took Brandon to meet my mother. But then, he was close to my father, and my mother wasn’t thrilled with my father being back in my life. I found out why the hard way.

But that was the dirty past. This is now. Dash is now. I fill our cups and rejoin him in the living room, noting his complete absorption in his work. Since I don’t want Dash to feel I’m looking over his shoulder, nor do I want to break his rhythm, I set my mug and phone at the opposite end of the coffee table. After which, I set his mug next to him and I don’t think he even knows which is good. He needs to write that book so the rest of us can read it.

I text my mother a reply of: He’s on deadline. I’m cracking the whip on him. If he makes word count, his reward will be your waffles.

My mother is not dissuaded: Tell him he can write over here while I read over his shoulder.

She and I exchange a few more messages before I settle in at my side of the coffee table and open my MacBook, with the intent of working, but my mind is on Tyler and Allison. Tyler still hasn’t replied to my message. It seems as if he’s done with me at this point, but that just feels off. He involved me in what happened last night. He had an agenda that involved me. But I did leave him high and dry on the house and the auction, or so he thinks.