Letting Go(39)

Dash laughed. “Yes, she certainly does that. I hope you’re right. I’d hate to lose her over this. It was important to Carson that you both be provided for. He wouldn’t want Kylie working somewhere else.”

“Just don’t let her make any rash, impulsive decisions,” she said. “If she does something hasty like quit, don’t accept her resignation. Give her time to consider. I’m sure she’ll come around.”

Dash nodded. “Don’t worry. I have no desire to train a new office manager.”

“You know if you need help, all you ever have to do is ask. I don’t know much about your business but I’m a quick study.”

He kissed her again, letting his lips linger against her temple, inhaling the sweetness of her scent.

“I know, honey, but I like the idea of you not working. I like the idea of having all your time. I’m a selfish bastard. I don’t want to share you with anyone and certainly not a job.”

She smiled and then sighed, her expression becoming troubled as he brought the topic back to their relationship.

“You really think it’s a good idea for me to move in? You don’t think it’s too sudden? I’d hate to sabotage us before we ever get off the ground.”

“Let me worry about that,” he said gently. “I want you here, Joss. In my space. My life. My bed. There are certain aspects I won’t rush you into and I’ll be infinitely patient. But others? Like you moving in with me and you being with me all the time? Yeah, I’m going to press because it’s what I want and I always go after what I want. I don’t lose, Joss. And I’m damn sure not going to lose you.”





ELEVEN





JOSS finished packing her bag and then surveyed the three stuffed suitcases with a rueful smile. It looked as though she were moving out, and she supposed, in fact, she was. Dash wanted her with him. All the time. She still wasn’t sure exactly how she felt about that.

She’d enjoyed every moment of her marriage to Carson. She’d liked not being alone, and in the months following his death, she hadn’t wanted to be alone even for a moment. God, when she looked back at who and what she was, she wanted to cringe.

A trip to the grocery store was enough to put her in tears. Dash had come, had taken her to the grocery store so she could at least keep her kitchen stocked. She didn’t eat out. Hadn’t eaten out in a year after his funeral.

Only after a year had she begun to venture out, at Chessy and Kylie’s urging, for regular lunches with them. But dinner? She hadn’t been out to dinner since Carson died. It had been too painful. She hadn’t wanted to socialize. To get caught up in meaningless chitchat when all she could remember was the way she and Carson laughed and loved.

Carson loved eating out. Loved good food and fine dining. He’d taken her to some of the best restaurants in the country—and Europe. It was through him that she developed the taste for good wine. She didn’t know the difference between a red and a white much less the nuances of the different labels and brands.

Her wine cabinet here was still fully stocked, not a single bottle opened, except for Carson’s favorite. A wine she made sure she kept on hand. On the anniversary of his death, she’d open that bottle and drink with him. With his memory. She savored every sip, wishing with her every breath that he were there to share it with her.

She sighed. No more of that. She was turning a new page in her life. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe she was making the worst decision—an emotional decision. But she was an emotionally driven person. She wore her feelings on her sleeve, and as Carson and Dash had both commented on, one only had to look into her eyes to know exactly her mood.

She didn’t have the artifice or the energy to project what she didn’t feel. She didn’t even know how to mask her emotions. It wasn’t something she was adept at. As a result, Carson had always known when she was unhappy or worried. And he’d moved heaven and earth to rectify whatever had gone wrong.

Dash would be like that. She knew. He was warm and kind. Gentle and understanding. He’d be patient with her and he wouldn’t fault her for any mistakes she made. But she didn’t want to make mistakes. She wanted to meet him as an equal, not some weak woman who needed him to fix her.

Only she could fix herself. Her shattered heart. That was on her and no one could do it for her. Perhaps this was just the first step in reclaiming her independence, which sounded stupid when she wanted a dominant man. When she didn’t want to make decisions or be forced to make difficult choices.

She didn’t want to think. She just wanted to . . . be. That was all. Happy. Whole again, or at least as whole as she could ever be when she was missing half of herself.