Chapter Forty-three
Dallas
Lucas walks into my office, Blake trailing behind him. He puts three shot glasses on my desk and fills them with my favorite tequila.
I look strangely at the liquor. It’s only noon after all.
“What exactly are we celebrating?” I ask.
“It’s Christmas Eve,” Blake says. “We’re celebrating another great year of building our legacy here at the winery.”
I tilt my head. “Shouldn’t we do that on New Year’s Eve instead?”
Blake shakes his head. “Ellie, Maisy, and I are leaving for Hawaii the day after tomorrow. We’ll be ringing in the new year on Kauai.”
I find it interesting that he tends to sign when he speaks, even when his wife and daughter aren’t around. Sometimes I wonder if he even knows he’s doing it.
“Ah.” I pick up a glass and wait for one of them to toast.
“To an amazing year,” Lucas says. “Despite our ups and downs, it’s great to have you back where you belong, brother.”
They touch their glasses to mine as Blake says, “I’ll drink to that.”
We down our shots and they take the two seats opposite my desk.
Lucas kicks back and rests his feet up on the edge. “It’s been nice having you back in the office, Dallas, but you work too damn much.”
I shrug. “Nothing else to do.”
“That’s of your own doing,” Blake says.
I give him a hard stare. “Must we go over this again?”
“Yes, actually. I think we should. Because despite appearances, you’re miserable here, and I’ll bet my left nut she’s miserable down there. I get that it’s scary as fuck. Do you think I knew my ass from a hole in the ground when Maisy showed up on my doorstep? No. But you know what? I stepped the fuck up, and now look at me.”
Lucas takes a swipe at the back of Blake’s head. “Yeah, now look at him. You can’t wipe the stupid-ass grin off his face.”
“Because I’m happy.” Blake points at Lucas and me. “Something neither of you seem to be able to accomplish even when it’s staring you in the goddamn face.”
“He’s right.” Lucas lowers his feet to the floor and leans his forearms on his knees. “I screwed up the best thing that ever happened to me.” He shakes his head. “Four freaking times. The point? Don’t be like me, little brother.”
“Are you done? Because I have work to do.”
“Jesus Christ, Dal, it’s Christmas Eve. Go home.”
I shoot eye daggers at Blake. “You go the fuck home. It’s a hell of a lot easier when you’ve got something to go home to.”
“Okay. I’m sick of this shit,” Lucas says. “We’ve all been tiptoeing around you for weeks. Hell, for years if I’m being honest. It’s time for you to grow some fucking balls, Dallas.”
I point to the door. “Get out.”
He doesn’t move an inch. “We sent her the offer last week.”
I try to look uninterested.
“Seriously?” he says, shaking his head in disgust. “I know you want to know.”
“You don’t know dick.”
“She turned it down.”
My eyes snap up. I’m sure I misheard him. No way in a million years did I think she’d turn it down. I saw the offer. It was a lot of money. And a better offer than we’ve ever laid out for any contract employee.
“Shocking, right?” he says. “Or maybe not so much. Because everyone here knows she turned it down because of you.”
“She told you that?”
“She didn’t have to. Why in the hell else wouldn’t she take it? It’s not like she had to move here. She works remotely. It was a killer offer, as you well know. She could have put her kid in private school. Hell, she could have fired all her other clients and still come out ahead. Who in their right mind would turn down a deal like that?”
His head shakes. Disappointment oozes from his every pore. “Brother, are you fucking stupid? You see what I did. Time after time I’ve been such an idiot. And with Lissa especially. I was sure she was my soulmate, man, and I still screwed it up. I have to live with that. Marti is amazing. Beautiful, smart, a great mother. She’s the whole package.”
“Mother. What do you not get about that being the part of the package I can’t deal with?”
“She told me what you did when Charlie went into anaphylaxis. You stepped up. What you did might have saved him from brain damage. You’re twenty-eight years old, Dallas. Are you going to avoid kids for the rest of your life? Because news flash, you already have one niece, and I damn well plan on having kids one day.”
“There’s a big difference between being an uncle and being a… dad.” I still have a hard time forming the word.
“Charlie’s pretty damn amazing. I spent some time with him at the party.”
“He was great with Maisy,” Blake says. “Super smart for a three-year-old.”
“Three-and-a-half,” I say, prompting the two of them to share a look.
“You’ll change your mind one day. Maybe it’ll be in a month, or maybe a year.” Lucas stands, puts his palms on my desk and leans close. “But one day you’ll be ready, and she’ll be someone else’s girlfriend or wife. Will you be able to handle that?”
“Again, get out, Luke.”
“Do you love her?”
“Get. The. Fuck. Out.”
“Do you fucking love her, Dallas?” he shouts in my face.
“Yeah!” I shout back. “I do. Is that what you want to hear? That I’m in love with someone I can never be with. That it fucking hurts every time I think about her? That it hurts almost as bad as the void Phoebe and DJ left? But there’s not a goddamn thing I can do about it.”
“There is, you idiot. Go fill the damn void, Dallas.”
I throw him a look. “Have you and Allie been conspiring?”
“The whole family has been conspiring, man. We all want you to win this one. Don’t you think you deserve it?”
I stand and pace behind my desk. “What if I can’t win? What if I join the race and fail miserably and never make it to the finish line?” My hands run through my hair in frustration. “What if I fill the void you’re all so eager for me to fill and something happens to take it all away?”
Lucas’s face softens. “So that’s what this is all about? Fear of losing what you have?”
“Hell yes, it is,” Blake says. “Earlier this year, when I told him about Ellie and Maisy, he said something about it being easier not to have anyone because then you have nothing to lose.”
Lucas sits again. “Jesus, Dal. You can’t spend the rest of your life fearful of losing people you love. You’ll die miserable and alone.”
I stare right at him. “Says the guy who pushes away every woman he’s ever loved.”
He huffs loudly, reminding me of how Marti would do it. “This is definitely a case of do as I say and not as I do. I’m a fool. I admit it. You’ve always been the smart one. The stable one. The most rational. Now’s the time to live up to those expectations, brother.”
“Anyone with eyes and ears”—Blake laughs—“hell, even those who can’t hear know how you feel about her and her you. We only spent one night with Marti. Hours even. And everyone knew she was the one. Why can’t you pull your head out of your ass and just admit it?”
“You love her,” Lucas says. “So get on a fucking plane already and go get her.”
It’s something I’ve contemplated at least a dozen times in as many days. But she hasn’t so much as called, texted, or emailed. What if she wants nothing to do with me?
I grab my coat. “Fuck it. It’s Christmas.”
I’m pretty sure my brothers high-five behind me.
“Tell Mom not to hold Christmas dinner,” I say, already halfway down the hall.
Blake calls out, “I’m sure this is one holiday she’ll be happy to celebrate without you.”
In the truck, I scroll through my contacts until I find Quinn Thompson’s name. Quinn has been the Montanas’ private helicopter pilot for years, working not only for my immediate family, but my uncle’s. As usual, he answers quickly.
“Dallas Montana! Well that’s a name that hasn’t popped up on my phone in a good while. How’re they hangin’?”
“Good. Hey, listen, I need a favor.”
He hesitates. I understand why. He’s got a family. It’s Christmas Eve.
“I don’t need you to fly,” I say. “But I was hoping you could use one of your contacts to charter me a plane.”
“I could do that. For when and where?”
“Well… now. I can fly out of the city or White Plains. Destination is Orlando.”
“I see.” There is a hesitation in his voice.
“You don’t think it’ll be doable?”
“Oh, it’s doable. But it’s going to cost you.”
“See, this is one of those times when being rich as shit comes in super handy. Whatever it takes. I can be ready in a few hours. I just have a few errands to run.”
“I’m on it. I’ll text you with the details as soon as I have them. Maybe now you’ll talk your daddy into investing in a private plane?”
I laugh. “My father has never been that flashy. A helicopter he shares with his brother—yes. An entire airplane—he’d rather eat dirt and donate what he would have spent to starving children.”
“Chris Montana is a good man. Orlando, eh? Looks like his son is a good man, too.”
“I see you’ve been keeping up with the rumor mill.”
“Word travels fast around here.”
“Okay, gotta go. Get me that flight.”
“You bet I will.”
I place a few more phone calls and make several necessary stops. Before I can even go home to pack a bag, Quinn texts me.
Quinn T: Can you be at White Plains airport in an hour? I found a team to fly you, but they want to be home by midnight. It’s a three-hour flight. Drop off only. They’ll turn around immediately and fly back.
I check the time. Perfect. I’ll be in Orlando by seven.
Me: On my way. I owe you.
Quinn T: No man, but you’ll owe them. A fucking lot.
Me: Not a problem. Thanks. And Merry Christmas.
Quinn T: To you as well. Hope you find what you’re looking for.
I don’t answer, but I sure as hell hope so too.
~ ~ ~
After putting a small dent in my bank account and renting one of the few remaining—and ridiculously overpriced—cars at the Orlando airport, I’m well on my way to Marti’s apartment.
Traffic is horrendous. Not New York City bad, but terrible all the same. Don’t these people have somewhere to be, like with their families?
Family . The word hangs in my head, bouncing around as I try it on for size. Am I really ready for this? Honestly, I don’t know. But if I don’t at least try, I think it’s something I might regret for the rest of my life.
“Your destination is ahead,” the car announces, causing my heart rate to skyrocket.
What if she doesn’t want this? What if Martina Alexandra Carver is one of those women who moves on quickly—out of sight, out of mind and all that?
What if I just spent sixty grand for nothing? Not including all the other shit I bought earlier.
I’m a bit surprised, but not unhappy that she lives in a gated community. At least I know she’s safe living on her own. Not wanting to alert her I’m coming, I hug the bumper of the car in front of me to get through the front gate. Then I park in front of her apartment building. It’s nice. I look around at the other cars. Most of them are far nicer than Betsy. I wonder if she’s gotten a new one yet. If not, that can be my Christmas gift to her. I mean, I have a gift already—sort of—but a car would be the real one.
I squint at the numbers on the apartments, surmising hers is on the second floor. I get out, retrieving one of the gift bags from the back. No way can I carry in everything I brought with me. I’ll just come back for the rest.
Taking a deep breath, because I truly have no idea if I’m an idiot or a saint for doing what I’m doing, I climb the stairs and knock on the door to apartment 502C.
There’s no answer. I knock again. Then I step to the right and look through the front window.
It’s dark inside. I came all this way and she’s not even here.
Asher’s. Of course she would be at Asher’s place. She said they always spend holidays together. Maybe that means Christmas Eve as well as Christmas.
Even more nervous now that I have to do this in front of her older brother, I make my way back down to the car and do some stealth googling until I find the address. I actually find the addresses of a few Asher Andersons in the Orlando area, but I narrow it down to the closest one to my location, figuring she wouldn’t live too far from her brother.
In ten minutes, I’m standing in front of another door, scared shitless at what might transpire over the next few minutes. Grow some fucking balls , Montana , I tell myself.
I ring the bell, and seconds later, a girl with blue hair opens the door. She looks down at my hands. “Delivery?” she asks, excited by the large decorative bag.
“You must be Bug.”
She side-eyes me, closing the door just a little and wedging her foot behind it. “Do I know you, or are you some creepy lonely old guy who stalks girls on the internet and tracks them down on holidays?”
Yup. Definitely Bug . I’d recognize that snarky attitude anywhere. She must’ve gotten it from her aunt.
“I’m looking for your aunt. Is Marti here?”
“No. She flew up to New York City to go to some hick place. Conway Creek or something.” She turns. “Dad! Where did Aunt Marti go?”
Asher comes up behind his daughter, stunned to see me. “Dallas. You’re… here.” He doubles over, laughing.
“Wait.” I drop the bag on the threshold. “ She went to see me? And… she got on a plane?”
When he’s done being amused at my expense, he invites me inside. “You might as well have a drink and settle in. You’ll never get a flight back on this short notice.”
I come in, but before I talk to them or do anything else, I pull out my phone and place my second call today to Quinn Thompson. “Quinn, I’m gonna need another favor.”