She reached over and turned on the lamp beside her bed. “Geez, Alex, you scared me half to death. What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”
“Sorry. It was dumb to wake you. Everything’s fine.”
“Oh.” She sat all the way up, then reached up and took down her hair. It had been piled high on top of her head and I watched, mesmerized as the blonde curls fell onto her shoulders. She ran her fingers across her scalp a few times and rubbed her eyes. She was just trying to wake up, and I was staring like an idiot. But how could I not? She was stunning.
“So did you want to hang out?” she said. “Or . . .?”
“Oh. Sorry. No. I, um, I have news.”
She glanced at the clock on her nightstand and stifled a yawn. “It better be good.”
“Do I need to give you a minute to wake up?”
She scrubbed her hands across her face one more time. “No, I’m good. Fully awake.”
I sat on the side of her bed and launched into the information I’d learned from Angelica, explaining everything as best I could. I’d have to forward her the email, so she could see all the evidence for herself, but for now, it was incredibly vindicating just to know, to say the truth out loud.
“Sally Mabel?” Dani repeated. “I never saw that coming.”
“I wonder how long it took to train the Alabama Southern out of her voice,” I said.
“No kidding,” Dani said. “I have a good ear for it, and I never caught even a shadow of a Southern accent from her.”
“The dress is ready, right?” I asked her.
She nodded. “I finished it right after Chase left. I had to so I could focus on the jackets.”
I looked to the small sewing table she’d been using the past couple of weeks. Three of the four leather jackets for Red Renegade hung on a rack in the corner. “They look good.”
“Thanks. I’m a little worried about fit. I mean, I had the band go into the Mood on Thirty-Seventh Street so my friend, Harper, could measure them for me, and I trust her measurements. But it’s not quite the same as seeing them in person, myself, you know?”
“I’m sure they’ll be perfect.”
“So I guess it’ll be a big couple of weeks,” Dani said, settling back against the headboard.
“Right. The Compassion Experiment and then Florida a week later. I’ll start working on our travel arrangements tomorrow.”
“Don’t forget about Paige’s wedding the week after that.”
“Right. Your week will be busy. How’s all of that going?”
She shrugged and rolled her eyes. “It’s been a little crazy. Paige’s mom is super committed to making sure the wedding is worthy of Charleston’s finest. She and Paige argued for ten minutes yesterday because the napkins arrived, and Ms. Perry doesn’t think they’re the exact shade of cream they need to be.”
“Sounds . . . fun?”
“If anything, it’s helped me realize what I won’t care about if I ever end up getting married.”
“Like napkin colors?”
“Absolutely not.”
Dani stilled, the humor and lightness of the moment quickly transforming into something much more serious. She kept her eyes down for a moment before she reached out and touched my arm, her fingers resting lightly just above my wrist. “I know you have a lot on the line here. Thank you for everything you’re doing. For helping me.”
I twisted my hand, closing my fingers over top of hers, and held her hand, my thumb rubbing slow circles across her knuckles.
She looked up and met my gaze, her expression showing surprise, but she didn’t pull her hand away.
“I’m happy to help,” I said softly. I swallowed, craving her in a way I hadn’t experienced in over a year.
I tugged her hand toward me, a gentle invitation, and she leaned forward. Our foreheads touched and I moved my free hand to her face, cradling her cheek. “Dani,” I whispered softly.
Her breath hitched and then she gasped just before a tear slid onto my fingers.
She was crying?
She tilted her head up, closing the fraction of space between us and pressed her lips against mine. Fire ignited inside me, overwhelming my senses until every heartbeat echoed the sound of her name. I couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t breathe in enough of her, touch enough of her. When she pulled away, breaking the kiss only seconds after it started, I stilled. Her shoulders dropped and her eyes closed, and I knew, immediately, what was coming.
“I can’t, Alex.” She reached up and took my hand, still touching her cheek, and held it to her lips. She kissed my palm then dropped my hand and wiped at her tears. “I’m sorry.”
I shook my head, my longing suddenly replaced with intense regret. We had only just begun to be friends again and I’d likely ruined everything. “Don’t, Dani. It should be me apologizing. I shouldn’t have—I’m sorry.” I stood and moved to the doorway.
“Alex, wait.”
I turned. She looked so small sitting alone in the middle of the large bed.
“It isn’t that I don’t want—”
“Dani, please,” I said, cutting her off. “You don’t owe me an explanation. It’s all right.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head, pulling her bottom lip into her teeth. Everything about her expression spoke of how much she didn’t want to hurt me. But I realized with startling clarity how inevitable that hurt actually was. I’d never stopped loving her. And probably never would.
Once outside, I leaned against the studio door, letting the cold air wash over my skin. I pulled it into my lungs, a pitiful attempt to quell the fire Dani had ignited in my gut. I tried to tell myself it wouldn’t ever work between us. We wanted different things, dreamed of different things. But my heart wouldn’t be convinced; the only thing my heart wanted was her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Dani
The flight to New York was mostly uneventful. The rest of the team wouldn’t fly up until the following morning, but I’d wanted an extra day to deliver the custom jackets to Reggie and the rest of Red Renegade; the jackets were, in my not-so-humble estimation, freaking spectacular, so I’d convinced Alex to book me an earlier flight. Instead of sending me on my own, he’d booked flights for Isaac and himself as well, mentioning some important meeting with the venue people they needed to attend. I was pretty sure there wasn’t actually a meeting, but I wasn’t going to argue.
I leaned back into my first-class seat, a luxury Isaac had insisted on. “It’s a business expense,” he had said. “You’re flying first class with the rest of us, end of story.”
I’d caved on the New York tickets, but I’d put my foot down when Alex had tried to upgrade our tickets to Key West. Even though Isaac was coming along, he was only coming as an accomplice to my evil plan. No matter how he stretched it, he couldn’t write off Florida as a business expense and there was no way I was paying for a first-class ticket. It had been hard enough letting him pay for my coach seat. The cash I’d had left over after buying the leather had been enough to cover a plane ticket, but I was so cash poor, I’d hated to spend it. Not if I wanted to keep my phone turned on and my credit cards in good standing. When Isaac had offered to loan me enough to cover my ticket, I’d relented.