“Thank you, I—”
My words stop short in my throat because it’s not Daria. Standing only inches apart, I notice more details of Micah’s suit that I missed before. While the design of my dress looks like flowing water, the jewels on Micah’s suit look like small rocks. It’s as if the flowers are flowing down my river and landing atop his coast.
Focusing on those details is all I can do to avoid the blaze in his eyes.
“Where’s Daria?” I ask.
“I asked her to give us a moment.”
“You made her leave her own office.”
“Yes. Because I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Why wouldn’t I be, Micah?”
“I don’t know, Dani. We just talked about being able to speak freely. I thought now might be a good opportunity to try that out.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “I don’t have anything to say.”
“No?”
As I shake my head, he rubs his fingers against his temple and leans against the doorjamb.
“Okay, well I do. Look, I know we never recovered after I left New York. And I know you don’t care to hear why. But our time together meant everything to me. I need you to know that.”
I don’t need to hear why things fell apart when he left New York. I’ve pieced it together myself. It doesn’t change where we are now, so what’s the point in rehashing it? I am not the woman I was back then. The woman I am today isn’t meant to be with a man like him. “Thanks for sharing,” I say, placing my hand around the door handle impatiently.
He sighs, defeat descending over his body. “Do you need help before I go?”
My nose wrinkles. “Excuse me?”
He gestures behind me. “Your zipper. Do you need help?”
I chew my bottom lip while I consider his offer. “Uh, sure, yeah, thanks.”
I turn my back to him and move my hair to one side of my shoulder. His footsteps are quiet, but I feel the heat from his body at my back. His scent slithers around like a snake, crushing me with its intensity.
A sharp chill rips through my spine when his hand touches my back. Why does his touch still affect me after all this time? It would be so easy to give in to the sexual attraction I’ve always had for Micah, but we both know that wouldn’t be enough for him. He would want pieces of me I can’t give him. Pieces I no longer have to give.
He takes his time pulling the zipper down, the metallic zip the only sound between us. My flesh begs him to keep going, to keep pulling until the zipper has reached its end and the dress pools at my feet, but he doesn’t. He stops just far enough so that I can do the rest myself.
Leaning down so his mouth caresses my ear, he says, “The rest is on you, track star.”
When I turn around, he’s gone.
At Daria’s insistence, we’re staying at her house while we try to figure out what Tanya’s next clue could be.
We met her parents briefly before they retired to their rooms. Daria and I find ourselves sitting out by the pool while Sam grabs us some dinner and Micah has disappeared for a sunset hike.
“Sometimes I regret it,” Daria says, her head leaning against the back of her chair.
“Regret what?”
“Moving my parents in.” She winces as she blows air into her cheeks, as if the words taste like bile in her mouth. “The house is about thirty minutes away from the ranch where they got married, and I thought that would be good for them, you know? They loved that ranch so much. I thought I could take them there whenever they needed a reminder of past times, and everything would be fine, but it hasn’t been. I haven’t designed anything in so long. Your clothes for the gala were the very last thing, and it felt great to get back to what I’m good at. But ever since, my creative well has completely dried up. It’s like I’m afraid to progress my business because I don’t want it to take me away from them. And sometimes I wish I could turn a blind eye to their illnesses just so I could have that part of my life back. Is that terrible of me to say?”
“No, it’s not.” I don’t have the words to comfort her. I can’t relate to what she’s going through, but it’s easy to see how much she loves her parents. Wanting the best for them and more for herself is only natural.
“Hmm, if you say so. Anyway, when I told you about my parents earlier, you looked at me like I was some kind of saint. I wanted you to know I’m not.”
