3

I got up from the table and moved around to her chair. I put my hand on her shoulder and said, “Stay. Enjoy yourself. Eat your meal … and mine. If you want. It was nice meeting you …” I stopped and cleared my throat, trying to remember her name. It didn’t come to me, and I had nothing left to say, so I walked away.

But I didn’t leave the restaurant.

I went to Alix’s table, stood right at her side, and put my back toward my date. “Excuse me,” I said.

Rose was already looking at me.

Not Alix.

I had to wait for her to slowly turn to me, her gaze gradually lifting until it reached my face. “Hi.”

“I want to give you something.”

She smiled out of nervousness. “Okay.”

“Give me your hand.”

“She’s not giving you anything until I know what this is about,” Rose said.

The dynamics of their friendship were defined in that moment.

So were their personalities.

I glanced at Rose. “What I’m about to give her isn’t going to hurt her.”

“I don’t know that.”

I reached into my back pocket again, took out my wallet, and gave it to her. “You have everything in there—my ID, pilot’s license, credit cards, debit card, and over a thousand in cash. If something happens to her, you can hand it over to the police. Except for the cash; you keep that.”

She looked up from her palm where it was all resting and eventually said, “Fair enough.”

My stare returned to Alix. “Please give me your hand.”

She lifted it off her lap, and as it moved through the air, I caught it and flipped her hand around. As I held her palm face up, I took a pen out of my jacket and pressed it against her skin, running the tip length-wise.

When I finally released her, she looked at it to see what I had written. “Your phone number?”

I nodded.

“You could have typed it into my cell.”

“That’s too impersonal.”

“And writing on my hand isn’t?”

Out of all the questions, she’d asked that one.

“I got to touch you,” I said, my tongue circling the corner of my lip from the memory of what she had felt like. “And then I got to watch and feel the way you responded to me.”

She searched my eyes, her cheeks beginning to redden. “I could be married.”

I didn’t care if she was.

That was how strongly I felt for this girl after being in her presence for only a minute.

“Then, don’t call me. Or do. The decision is up to you.”

When I took a few steps toward Rose, Alix said, “Where are you going?”

I waited for Rose to put my wallet on top of my hand before I said, “The airport. I have a plane to fly.”

“You’re a pilot.” She didn’t say it as though she were questioning me. She said it like she was storing the information, cementing it in her brain even though this was the second time I’d told her.

“I’m many things,” I answered, and then I left the restaurant.

Thirty-eight minutes later, I was in the air.

Three

Alix

Present Day

My townhouse was only six blocks from the restaurant—too close to get a car service, just far enough away to fill my body with fresh air. So, after having dinner with Rose, I walked home, taking in the smells and sounds and sights of the city.

Boston was never quiet.

I appreciated that.

Silence was like moisture; it created an environment that allowed things to grow. Fester. Eat into the walls and foundation.

I didn’t want to give my thoughts that kind of space and freedom inside my brain. I knew they’d never go away, but I wanted them to stay dormant for the rest of my life.

Therefore, I preferred the loudness, especially when it seeped through the windows of my brownstone and padded the rooms with noise.

There seemed to be an extra dose of it this evening, which excited me as I continued to head home. When I turned onto my block, my speed increased, and I hurried up the five steps.

I unlocked the door.

Keys were placed in a bowl on a table in the entryway, and I set my bag on the closest barstool in the kitchen.

There was a note from Dylan on the counter.

I smiled as I read it and grabbed the bottle of red that was next to it. When my eyes landed on the last word, I filled a glass and carried it into the bedroom.

My jewelry was dumped in a drawer on the right side of the closet, my clothes in the hamper, my shoes wherever they landed on the floor.

Without stopping in the bathroom to brush my teeth or wash off my makeup, I brought the wine over to the bed, and I climbed in. Once I was settled, I reached toward the tablet on the nightstand, pressing the button that flipped off the lights and another that turned on the TV.

HGTV.

That was all I ever watched.

While I was still sitting up, I took a few sips of wine, my lower body sinking into the mattress, my muscles slowly starting to relax. Once the feeling moved toward my center, I set the glass next to the tablet and slid until my head was nestled into the fluffy down of the pillow.

I tugged the blanket up to my neck, and the warmth of the wine began to move to my face.

My eyes closed.

I rolled onto my stomach, the coolness of the top sheet now resting over my bare ass.

Just as I was hugging a pillow against my side, I heard him.

I smiled again.

And then I exhaled a long, deep sigh. “I’ve missed you, Dylan,” I whispered.