The Resistance(59)

I nod. “I’ll be ready.” I spin back around and start going over the ad designs. “You do more than your job description, you know,” I say, casually. “How do you feel about a raise?” I peek over my shoulder and see her smiling.

“Really?”

Shrugging, I say, “Sure, you’ve earned it. More than earned it actually. Thank you for the hard work you put in. The business wouldn’t be the same without you being a part of it.”

She gets up and hugs me. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

When she sits down again, she says, “I have a great product and even better boss, so you make my job easy. Now get back to work. I need those designs approved before my two o’clock call.”

“Okay, okay. “

When two rolls around, I sneak out onto the patio, giving Tracy privacy for her conference call. I also have ulterior motives—Dalton. He answers on the second ring. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m lonely.”

There’s a pause that might be construed as uncomfortable, but I’m starting to learn that Dalton says what he means. He doesn’t talk to fill unpleasant silences. When he does speak, his words are poetic. “Loneliness is a trick the heart plays on the mind.”

“So you’re never lonely?”

“I didn’t say that. Sometimes the mind starts to believe.”

A smile crosses my face. I knew he felt more than he was letting on. “It’s okay to show emotion, you know.”

“I show emotion. Was it not enough?”

“Look, I’ll let you off the hook… for now. But when I see you, I expect I-missed-you-so-much-reunion  -sex. Okay?”

He chuckles. “Like I’d hold out on you.”

“I hope you never do. “ Checking over my shoulder, I see Tracy inside on her call. “I should go.”

“Hey, Holliday?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m lonely too.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, my own emotions grabbing hold of me.

“Be at my place on Friday when I get home.”

The phone goes quiet just as I reply, “I’ll be there.”

I’m let in through the gate without question after ringing security. People—maids, security, gardeners—weren’t here the other time. It’s interesting to see the bustling about the property preparing for Dalton’s arrival home. I grab my small suitcase from the trunk and walk inside. A lady with a rag in her hand smiles from across the living room. I say hello, then walk upstairs to his bedroom. I’ve not been here alone before and it feels different without his energy filling the space.

I sit on the bench at the end of his bed and look around. I use the time to snoop and check out the framed photos. The two on his dresser are pictures he took of the audience at a concert—his view of the show, which is so different from ours of him on stage. They make me wonder what shows these were in particular that warranted framing. The one next to his bed looks like Texas by the landscape, but I’m not sure. I’ll have to ask him about it some time.

The bedroom is clean in design. Not modern, but not traditional either. The large bed is covered in deep browns and reds, with hints of gold, not over the top. The view from his home is what I love the most. I open the large doors and walk out onto the balcony. His view of L.A. is incredible and I imagine the city at night must look magical from here. Below is the pool, which makes me think of a secret lagoon with the plants and rocks surrounding it. His property is very private from the surrounding homes.

Walking back inside, I sit on the end of the bed, wondering how much longer he’ll be. After a few more minutes, I kick off my shoes and crawl up the mattress to rest my head on his pillow. My eyes grow heavy as the minutes tick by and the sun lowers outside, and I fall asleep.

“Holliday.”

I reach my hands out, touching his face, feeling safe with him near.

“Holliday, wake up.”

Our lips part and I try to tempt him, grasping to hold on when he starts to disappear.

“Hey there,” he says, stroking my hair back.

My eyes open and I see Dalton, his head on the pillow next to mine, making me smile. “I fell asleep.”

“So I see.”

“You’re home.”

“I’m home,” he repeats, moving closer. Lifting up onto his elbow, he hovers over me. “About that loneliness…”





I come up for air, my wet hair covering my shoulders. Dalton is sitting on the edge of the pool and I swim to him. When I reach the side, I kick my feet behind me as he finishes a phone call.

He lifts my chin, eyeing my mouth. His fingers leave my skin and he looks away. When he stands up, he turns his back and walks toward a chair by the hot tub. “I don’t want to. That’s why,” he says. His voice is low which makes me wonder if he doesn’t want me to hear. Irritation takes over. “Fine. In. Out. Appearance only. Now drop it, Tommy.”