Page 92 of Mark & Don't Tell

“Technically, that’s The D.” He opens a little supply closet and pulls out a familiar bottle and hands it to me. “I found this shop a while ago, and this is my favorite scent. Sometimes, I come in here just to breathe it in. I guess I know why now. You smell like lavender.”

“I’m The D, Vic.”

He laughs. “It’s crazy, huh? It’s almost an exact match to your scent.”

I shake my head and hold the bottle up. “No, Vic. I am the D. This is my best friend’s company. This scent is mine, or what she interpreted my scent to be. The D is for Daria.”

“Wait, are you serious?”

“Yeah. Quinn is my best friend,” I tell him with a laugh. “Which is probably even crazier.”

“Actually, that explains a lot.” He takes the bottle from my hand and sets it on the coffee table. “You’ve been my haven for a long time now.” His palms rest on either side of my face, and he drops his lips to mine. “You make me feel better,” he whispers before teasing his tongue against mine, soft and gentle and too sweet.

My heart trembles.

Saying goodbye is going to hurt like hell.

Thirty-Two

DARIA

By the time I drive back to my apartment building, I’m already hungry for lunch. Vic had some clients coming in, and while I was sad to leave, I’m not about to stand in the way of his business. It helped that he kissed me so deeply before I left I almost forgot my name.

The noise from my engine is god awful by the time I find a parking spot, and more than a few people side-eye my beater from the sidewalk. I should really take it into the shop, but I can’t afford that.

Cutting the engine, I grab my purse and phone. The screen lights up with a message from Kai.

Kai

Do you want to come to our house for dinner on Sunday?

That sounds like fun and also like another line I shouldn’t cross. At least, this time, I have an obligation I can’t break.

I have a family dinner tomorrow :(

Another time, then?

Chewing on my cheek, I open and close my door without looking, leaning back against it and wrinkling my nose at the smell that’s definitely coming from my car. I don’t want to lie and tell him yes, but I also don’t want to freak them out before Monday. Vic knows where I live, and I wouldn’t put it past him to tell the others.

I need the weekend to mentally prepare myself.

We can talk about it on Monday!

“Uh, miss? Is your car on fire?”

Turning toward the concerned voice, I catch sight of the black smoke pouring out from under my hood. “Oh shit!”

“Oh my God! Someone call the fire department,” someone shouts from the sidewalk.

I step away from the car, but a horn blares, and I screech, lunging toward Betty in enough time to avoid becoming roadkill. As soon as that car passes, I scurry onto the sidewalk and back away, in case there’s an explosion.

Flames start to lick out from under the hood, and I cover my mouth. This can’t be happening. It’s a dream, right? People scream as the flames get bigger, and someone grabs me hard enough to shatter my hopes. This isn’t a dream. I stumble over my feet as I’m dragged farther away from the trash fire that is my life.

“Yes, hi! There’s a car on fire.” Someone rattles off the address, and people panic that it’ll explode.

“Ma’am. Is that yours?”

My legs are weak, and I slowly sink until my knees hit the concrete, fingers tugging at the roots of my hair. How will I get to work? How will I see Marco? How will I ever be able to afford a new car? I literally have no savings, and if I lose my job, then I definitely won’t have any money. Maybe it’s not as bad as it seems? Surely, it’s just a little fire and everything will be okay?

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