“I don’t know. Uncle Bruce and Garrett will be back by then.” He looked off toward their house. “I do know I want to be with you, though.”
“And I do you.”
“I have the city apartment that I share with another guy, but I haven’t been there in months. And he’s been asking if I’m ever coming back.”
Dahlia could feel her armpits sweating from dancing around the real issue, which was the show. She wanted her anonymity. “Will you go back to the show next summer?”
Noah stared blankly into the hallway. “My agent has been hounding me, but I haven’t signed the contract yet. They assured me Josie wouldn’t be returning.”
The air in her lungs felt suspended in time while she waited for him to answer the question.
“Honestly, I don’t care what road I’m on as long as I’m with you,” he said, trying to reassure her without answering the question.
Dahlia sighed, trying her best to hide her disappointment. He didn’t owe her anything. She needed to make this decision on her own. It was the only way. She nuzzled herself into his burly chest. His body felt warm, and the ground beneath her feet felt solid andfirm. She could have spent hours or even days there in his arms. She looked up at him, and in one look, he hijacked her soul. The answers would come for both of them, she was sure of it.
“Oh, did you talk to Kara yet?”
“Yes, she couldn’t believe it. This secret had more twists than a country road.” As for what Dahlia said about Aunt Cathy, all Kara said was, “I’m sorry she wasn’t there for you.” Dahlia knew what she meant, and there was no need to talk about it again.
“So, what else is on the agenda for today?” He kissed her nose. She didn’t want to move, let alone think.
“Oh, geez. I still have to call Gene back and Daisy.” It felt good to say that out loud and not hide her like she was a dirty secret. They were making progress. “It’s been a few days, and I have so much to tell them.” She shook her head. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Just be yourself, and the rest will follow.”
“My mother used to say that.” These coincidences were starting to add up. The messages from the universe were received loud and clear.
“Smart woman, your mom.”
“Yes, she was.” Dahlia’s eyes felt bright and full of hope. She wondered at that moment if Rose would approve or what advice she would have.Follow your heart, my sweet Dahlia, echoed in her head.
“I have a piece I’m working on for a client. Then we can hit a vineyard later,” he said, giving her one last smooch.
“Perfect.”
This all seemed like one giant jump across a vast canyon, but was she ready to do it without a net? What she learned from Lil and Gene was that there was no certainty in love, no matter how strongly a person’s feelings were, and that was the scariest part of the equation.
Dahlia sat on the bedroom floor, surrounded by Lil’s love story, both with Gene and her mother, Rose. Black-and-white marbled notebooks, yellowed letters, time-worn paintings, and relics from another time lay in a U-shape around her bare legs. The jute rug was starting to make dents in her butt, but there was one more phone call to make. The call to Daisy had gone as well as could be expected, and Noah barely came up. Daisy was struggling with their new set of circumstances and the idea that Pop was never really biologically theirs. She, too, felt tricked and blindsided, but Dahlia reassured her that DNA was no match for love or memories, as Noah said.
It would all take time, and right now, Dahlia’s hourglass of sand was starting to run thin. She had some big, life-altering choices to make, and she just prayed she could make them with a clear head.
Harry strolled in and lay beside her, resting his head on her thigh. Dahlia blew out a cleansing breath, running her hand through his soft black fur. She picked up her cell and scanned for Gene’s last call. There was a golf ball–sized lump in her throat that she couldn’t swallow, no matter how hard she tried. All she had to do was tell him what Lil wanted him to know. It didn’t mean that anything had to change.
Her pulse grew faster as she scrolled through her calls. Without hesitation, she pressed the Burbank, California, number.
“Hello?” the man answered right away.
“Ah.” Dahlia didn’t know what to call him.
“Is this Dahlia?”
“Yes, sorry, it’s me. I wasn’t sure what to call you.” She shook her head.
“How about Gene, or G for short.”
G for grandfather, she thought. Maybe she did want this connection after all. “That works.”
“How have you been? Has the news settled in?” his frail but eager voice asked.
