Chapter 12
Dalton
EVERY BIT OF ME hates how I left things with Raleigh at the curb of her apartment building.
In my defense, she hadn’t let me get a word in about my reasoning.
I was surprised when she asked me to follow her up.
I almost blindly listened, but then I thought about Merle being home alone longer than planned.
Something tells me she might not appreciate having her very kind offer being passed over for a dog, but that’s how it played out.
I wish I could have explained before she escaped.
I’d made sure she made it inside before driving away, fully aware that any work we’d done to become friends may have been jeopardized by a heated day and stubborn temperaments.
Reaching for my phone at a stoplight, I’m surprised to see three little dots next to Raleigh’s name.
As if the phone has scalded me, I toss it back into the cup holder and drive forward.
Whatever she’s cooking up for me I’m sure it's stern yet hilarious.
I fully expect a novel to be written next time I check, but as I turn off the car and dare to look back at the screen I see:
Raleigh: I just wanted to let you know that I genuinely appreciate everything that you do. I’m sorry for the way I handled our conversation earlier. It’s been a long day and I just thought I’d trauma dump on you lol.
Dalton: I’m more than available for a trauma dump.
Dalton: I should’ve used my words better, I just had to get home to Merle. Photo incoming.
My thumb hovers over the send icon as I rush up the stairs to my apartment where Merle is sitting, anxiously awaiting my return. Snapping a quick picture, I attach it to my text and send it to Raleigh.
She responds seconds later.
Raleigh: Well damn, Dalton, you could’ve told me you had someone wonderful to go home to at night. I would have backed off.
A laugh gets caught in my throat. Raleigh Davis. Flirting with me?
Raleigh: Sorry that was inappropriate… *Embarrassed emoji
Raleigh: I’m not texting you to flirt btw.
I actually need to know if you can run security at Trenton’s Halloween party.
Mae and I typically go alone, but all things considered with Trenton and the stalker I’d really appreciate it if you or one of your guys could be there.
The theme is 1920s but don’t feel obligated to dress up.
Raleigh: I really am sorry for before.
With the onslaught of messages finally over, or at least slowed, I do my best to match her wit in my response.
Dalton: First off, I really don’t think you could ever be unprofessional. I don’t think you know the meaning of the word. Second, I’ve worked a few of Trenton’s parties and wouldn’t mind working your side of things. Third, you don’t have to apologize to me.
Raleigh: It’s true, a Raleigh Davis apology is rare. I only offer one to people who really deserve it. Take that how you will. Go hang with your puppers. I’ll see you around the office tomorrow.
There’s no real way to respond to that, especially when I know she’s already moved on to something else on her busy schedule, but it feels wrong to leave it hanging.
Dalton: See ya!
See ya? See ya! What a lunatic. “She thinks I’m a lunatic,” I announce to Merle. He can only let his tongue hang out with his mounting breaths; he knows a walk is imminent.
***
I should be focused on the sidewalk in front of me, on the dog that’s zig zagging across the path ahead like a madman, but it’s impossible.
My conversation with Raleigh takes up a lot of my mental capacity at the moment.
Despite being upset with me, she had trusted me enough to reach out, apologize, and ask a favor.
That’s more maturity than I’ve ever experienced from a relationship.
Woah! I pull back on Merle’s leash as a labrador passes by.
I take it as a sign to pull back on my thoughts as well.
I do my best to build up a retaining wall to tide me over until I can get back to the apartment and either do some work or watch tv, but it’s no use.
A vision of Raleigh in costume at the upcoming Halloween party dances across my mind, and I have to physically stop to take a breath. Stop being creepy.
The images give way and the feeling of having her in my passenger seat takes its place.
She had been so angry, and yet, an underlying sadness had dominated it all.
Thinking back, it’s a melancholy I’ve noticed before.
The fiery red hair and the perfectly tailored wardrobe do their best to mask it, but I’m sure there’s something there that she hasn’t let on about.
Something I want to know about and have a manly urge to fix.
I know she doesn’t need her problems commandeered, but maybe she does need someone to be by her side.
The biggest part of my job is observation, so the fact that she hasn’t opened up to me yet doesn’t scare me in the slightest. I’ll sit back, be patient, and observe. After all, a place of patience is the most comfortable place for me to be.