Page 82 of Dash

“Not at all,” I say. I pat my jacket and all I feel is the box holding the ring. “I don’t have a pen…” I pat my jeans.

“Oh, I have a Sharpie.” She starts to dig in her purse. She produces a silver Sharpie but frowns. “I don’t have my notepad with me. I wrote my grocery list this morning and forgot to put it back in my purse.”

“Mom,” the kid whines, “you have to…”

I smile as I get an idea. “Here.” I turn around and grab my helmet off my bike. Tabatha had said that my story could help others believe their dreams could come true. Maybe this helmet can help this little guy believe in himself. And that’s the least I can do for my biggest fan, right?

“Oh, no…” The mother shakes her head as I start to sign my name on it. “I’ll go get some paper. Please, don’t do that!” she begs.

I finish signing my name and hand it to the little boy who is jumping up and down in front of me as he squeals. “You keep it,” I say as I put my hand on his head and mess up his hair.

“Are you sure?” the mother asks wide-eyed.

“Absolutely!” I reassure her.

The mother hugs me, and I pose for a picture with the little boy. Once they thank me and I hug the kid one more time, I pull out my phone and send Tabatha a quick text. Then with a huge smile on my face, I pat the ring in my jacket pocket one more time before I get onto my bike and pull out into traffic.

I once told Tabatha that your dreams change as you grow older. And my dream is to be her husband. To be the father of her kids. My dream is to belong to her and only her for the rest of my life. I hope she understands that only she can make my dream come true when I ask her tonight in front of the world.

CHAPTER FOURTY

TABATHA

I stand in front of the bathroom mirror as I put my pearl earrings on. My mother had bought them for me on my sixteenth birthday, and I wear them every chance I get.

I walk out of the bathroom and into our closet to look at myself in the full-length mirror. I run my hands down my white silk dress. My mother has impeccable taste when it comes to…well, anything. But I have to give her mad props for this dress. It’s strapless and has a thick black silk band that goes around the waist and ties in a bow at the back. It’s going to look amazing when I stand next to Dash in his black tux.

Speaking of Dash, he still has not returned home. I walk out of the closet and go to look at my phone that is charging on my nightstand. He’s been gone all day, but I haven’t bothered him. I know he has a lot on his mind right now regarding the party tonight, and I don’t want to make it worse on him.

I smile when I see he had sent me a text a few hours ago.

Hey baby, I can’t stop thinking about how much I love you. I want you to be mine…forever! Love you!

Forever? Hmm. I hope that means what I think it does. I place my phone back down when I hear the doorbell ring. I make my way down to the front door. I smile when I open it to a man standing on our doorstep with a huge bouquet of white flowers in his hands.

“Miss Knight?” he questions.

“That’s me,” I say excitedly.

He hands me the flowers and I shut the door as he leaves. I all but run into the kitchen and place them on the kitchen table. I take the card out and read it.

Here’s to a night you’ll never forget.

I place the card on the table and go to run up to the stairs to grab my phone and call him when the doorbell rings again. “What now?” I ask running to it.

“Hey girl,” I smile brightly when I open the door to see Jackie standing there. Her cream dress looks elegant yet sexy as it hangs off her shoulders and has a little dip to show off her cleavage. I look up at her face, and the smile drops off my face when I see her makeup is smeared from tears. “What’s wrong?” I demand as I watch tears run down her cheeks.

“It’s Dash…”

“What about him?” I demand as my heart begins to pound in my chest.

“He’s in the hospital. Your dad told me to come get you…”

I shove past her, slamming our front door as I run to her car.

***

I run into the hospital, sweating and breathing heavily. Signs of my body telling me I need more than just yoga classes. The once pretty dress clings to my sweat-drenched body. “Where is he?” I demand, coming up to my father in the waiting room.

---