Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Hollie
“You saved Jeremy’s arse today,” Dexter said as we sat cross-legged in his bed, me in one of Dexter’s shirts, eating the cheese and crackers I’d brought over.
I wasn’t sure how it happened but we’d gotten into a little routine.
Most nights, I would arrive at Dexter’s flat about eight with some food, and he’d just be arriving home from work.
I’d cook while he showered and finished up some emails.
Today we’d gotten distracted and I’d ended up in the shower with him.
I was enjoying having a salary, and I’d splurged on some expensive cheese I was sure Dexter would love.
I’d assumed men like Dexter lived on caviar and champagne, but he loved my grilled cheese and told me my chicken pie was the best thing he’d ever tasted.
And then he’d said something dirty and I thwacked him with a tea towel.
“I just went with my gut,” I replied.
“What did it say?” he asked.
“That whatever the display was, it had to be all about the jewelry.”
“Exactly.” He sighed. “I was disappointed he didn’t get it.”
“We shouldn’t talk about this,” I said. I didn’t want to know what Dexter thought about his staff—didn’t want the responsibility of insider information in case it changed the way I looked at my colleagues, who I liked a lot. “Work is work and this is,” I said, pointing at the cheese, “delicious.”
“You’re delicious. Are you sure I can’t just have you for dinner?”
My insides shimmied at his words. “You’re going to need your strength for what I have planned for you later,” I replied.
“I can’t wait. Oh, that reminds me. I have something for you,” he said. He reached over the side of the bed and produced one of those thick paper bags with rope handles that you get from expensive stores.
“What is it?” I asked, eyeing up the orange bag with a big H on it. It looked a bit like the Hermes logo, but of course it couldn’t be. “My birthday isn’t for weeks.”
“Well, why don’t you open it and find out,” Dexter replied.
I wasn’t sure why, but suddenly I felt out of place, sitting on this bed, opposite the most handsome man I’d ever seen. If I was reading the room right, Dexter had bought me a gift. But why would he do that?
I fingered the corner of the bag.
“It won’t bite,” he said.
He was asking me to open a bag—not exactly a demanding request. I wasn’t sure why I was hesitating but if I’d thought I was on a different planet earlier in the day, now we’d rocketed to a different universe. I just felt uncomfortable.
Stop being ridiculous. I pulled the light package onto my lap and picked at the brown, monogrammed tape that sealed it shut.
Inside I found a square, shallow box that felt lightweight when I balanced it on my lap.
The game was up—the box had Hermes written on it, and I was pretty sure this wasn’t a knock-off.
Regardless of what the box held, it was too much for me.
“Can I ask you something?” I said. “Did you buy me this? Like as a gift or something?”
Dexter frowned before putting a piece of cheese on his cracker. “Yeah. I said that before. That I got you a gift.”
Those hadn’t been his exact words. He’d said he had something for me—slightly more ambiguous, and a lot less overwhelming.
I wanted to know for sure when I opened the box on my lap what it was for and why.
“You don’t need to give me presents,” I said, staring at the box, half itching to open it, half scared to see what was inside.
“It’s not a big deal,” he said. “You want me to open it?” He reached for the box and I held it out of his way.
I pulled at the thin brown ribbon then lifted the lid. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting to see but what I got was white tissue paper.
I pulled open the tissue to find fabric that looked like silk—proper silk, not the rayon imitators in my wardrobe. It was printed in the most beautiful colors—every blue and green that had ever been. “What is it?”
“You keep asking me the same questions and I’m going to keep giving you the same answers,” he said.
“Pull it out, for goodness sake.” This time he got hold of a corner and pulled the silk from its box, letting it float in a canopy over our heads.
The peacock colors swirled above us like the most gorgeous indoor parachute.
“Careful,” I said, jumping up and catching it as it floated down toward our cheese picnic.
“It’s a scarf,” he said as I held the fabric in front of me like it was a picture I was deciding where to hang.
“It’s beautiful.” It was more than that. It was breathtaking. Stunning. It was the kind of scarf that let you know immediately who someone was—sophisticated, well-travelled and college-educated.
Disappointment roiled in my stomach.
I was none of those things.
I glanced over at him and he shrugged. “I saw it in the window and it reminded me of you—your eyes. Your hair. I thought you’d like it.”
Someone cut the cable in my ribcage and my heart landed with a thud in a pool of mixed emotion. I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry. And then a voice inside my head whispered, Go home. You don’t belong here.
“You okay?” he asked. “Shouldn’t I have bought it?”
“It’s just not . . .” How could I explain what I was feeling when I didn’t know myself? He bought me a gift. I should be giddy. Instead I wanted to throw some clothes on and get on the next plane back to Oregon. I’d never felt so far away from home.
“Hey,” he said and pulled me onto his lap. “Did I do something wrong?”
I wanted to push off his lap, get away, but I didn’t want to be ungrateful. “It was really nice of you,” I said, my fingers fiddling with the buttons on the shirt I was wearing.
“Do you hate it?” he asked.
I shook my head. No one could have hated something so beautiful.
“Was it inappropriate? I thought it might be but Stella convinced me to go with my gut. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. I can take it back, even.”
Inappropriate wasn’t quite the right word, but it was in the neighborhood. “Maybe not inappropriate but . . . it wouldn’t be right on me.”
Dexter cupped my face in his hands. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Hollie Lumen. Because I know it would suit you.”
If I’d learned anything about Dexter over these weeks, it was that he was like a dog with a bone—determined and driven. I wasn’t going to get him to change the subject unless the building was on fire. “I wasn’t thinking about whether or not it would suit me.”
“Then I hope it’s not because you don’t think you’re worth it.”
It was as if the lights went out and someone had sucked all the oxygen from the room. Five minutes ago, we’d been eating cheese and quoting our favorite films. Why had things suddenly gotten so deep?
Why was Dexter wondering what I thought I was worth?
I’d been thinking I would never wear a silk scarf once I went back to Oregon, that it would sit in its box the rest of its life.
And that led to a thousand more questions.
After spending time in London, how could I go back?
Would I be successful in getting a job at a jewelers in New York?
And even if I did, wherever I was, whatever job I was doing, would I always be Hollie Lumen from the trailer park?
Of course I would.
I’d never have a reason to wear a scarf so expensive and beautiful. My die was cast.
The scarf represented a life I’d never have and a woman I’d never be.
“Hey,” Dexter said, pulling me closer. “It wasn’t meant to make you sad.”
It wasn’t his fault. He’d done something nice for me. Something wonderful.
“I’m not sad,” I replied, the hitch in my voice telling a different story. “It’s just too much.” For me. “Too expensive,” I corrected myself.
“It’s just money, Hollie. And given the jewelry we’re surrounded by every day, it’s not that much money.”
I rolled my eyes and pushed off his lap. He had no clue. Only people with money could afford to say that anything was just money.
“We come from very different worlds, Dexter. I have no idea what a Hermes scarf would cost, but I can guarantee it’s way too much money. I’m guessing that’s a month’s grocery shopping right there.” I lifted my chin to the silk strewn on the bed next to us.
He scowled at me. “You’re right. We do come from different worlds. But I don’t see why that means I can’t use my money to buy you something nice.”
“I don’t need your money.”
“I know you don’t.” His tone had changed to the one I was used to hearing in the office but never here. Never when it was just us. “I don’t know what the hell I’ve done. Maybe you’re only happy when people are bleeding you dry.”
His words were like a physical blow.
“You’re saying my family are leeches now?” I stood on the bed, waiting for his reply. “I’ve never said anything that would make you think that.”
He didn’t reply and when I glanced at him, he was pinching the bridge of his nose.
I’d learned now that Dexter did this when he didn’t like what was happening or what someone was telling him.
“I can put two and two together and come up with four. You pay your sister’s tuition, your parents’ rent.
Does anyone in your family do anything for themselves? ”
I was so angry I was rooted to the spot, not knowing if I should punch him in the mouth or flee. “They’re my family. Are you telling me if your parents were alive, you wouldn’t help them out if they needed something?”
Dexter abandoned his cheese plate and tried to grab my arm. But I scooted away and jumped off the bed. I’d had enough of this conversation. I was ready to go back to my apartment. I’d call my sister, who was sure to agree with me that Dexter was a complete nutjob.
“Hey,” he said, following me into the bathroom. “I wasn’t trying to upset you. I was just trying to make sense of why giving you the scarf made you look like you were going to vomit all over my duvet. I could take offense, you know.”