Page 46 of Dreaming of Dawson

Even allowing for that, I could have done more. I could have acted as well as spoken. I could have taken her hand and moved a little closer to her while I was talking. Or I could have held her gaze, just so she couldn’t have been in any doubt… not only about my arousal, but about me.

As it is, I imagine she’s full of doubts.

And that being the case, should I be thinking about holding hands with her, when there’s so much to say that hasn’t been said, and so many questions to ask… like why she couldn’t wait to get away from me.

Again.

That was how it felt after she’d bolted into the bathroom, anyway. It reminded me of last night, when she pulled her hand from mine and ran from my bedroom. Because that’s what she did… right after I told her she was fucking beautiful and she told me I was drunk.

She ran.

And then she did it again this morning, clearly keen to be anywhere but with me.

I open my eyes, surprised by how much that thought hurts. I already expected her to think badly of me, but to know that now she’s seen the real me, she abhors my company too much to even make polite conversation… it’s too much to bear.

I shake my head, ignoring the internal rocking of my brain, and push myself off of the door. There’s no way I can leave things like this. Not just because she works for me, and I owe her an explanation, but because… well, because I don’t want to.

I pull the towel away, dropping it and the one around my neck to the floor, and rush over to my closet, pulling out a clean pair of jeans and a blue check shirt. My underwear is stored in a basket at the bottom, and I find a warm pair of socks, carrying everything to the bed and sitting down to make things easier. I might be in a hurry, but I know my limitations. It’s still early by my standards, and I haven’t had a coffee yet. I need to proceed with caution.

Tying my shoes is the hardest thing, which only confirms the fact that Macy must have untied them for me last night. There’s no way I could have done it… or left them so neatly by the nightstand. That thought just makes me feel worse, and even more desperate to see her.

I hurry from my room, leaving the bed unmade, and stop in my tracks, looking along the hall. The doors to both the bathroom and the guest bedroom are open, and for a second that throws me. I’m guessing that means she’s finished in the bathroom, but does it mean she’s in the bedroom? I tiptoe forward, poking my head inside. The room’s empty, although I notice the bed in here is also unmade. I don’t mind that. She did enough for me last night. I wasn’t expecting her to tidy up before she left. I just wish she hadn’t gone already.

I stare at the indent in the pillow, where her head must have lain, and smile as I look down at the rest of the bed. It might be unmade, but it’s neatly unmade. In fact, if it wasn’t for theturned-down cover and the slight indent in the pillow, I’d never know she’d been here, and that thought is enough to sober me up.

As is the prospect that she’s gone without saying goodbye.

Unless…

“Macy?” I call her name, wandering out into the living area, unsurprised by the silence and emptiness that greets me.

She’s gone. She’s put a deliberate distance between us, and after everything I’ve done, I can’t blame her for that.

“You’re a fucking fool, Dawson,” I mutter, realizing the magnitude of my mistakes as I wander over to the doors that lead out onto the balcony. There’s snow on the rooftops opposite, but the sun’s shining, and although it’s early, I can hear voices outside… or one voice, anyway.

It’s a woman’s voice, and it sounds like Macy. Except it can’t be. Can it?

I unlock the door and open it, the still silence surrounding me. I must have been imagining things.

“You’re sure? Thirty minutes? That’s great.”

It’s her. It’s really her.

I turn, rushing across the room, and then remember I’ve left the door open, the chill breeze filling the room. I dash back, pulling it closed, although I don’t bother locking it before I run straight out of the room and down the stairs.

If I wasn’t in such a hurry, I might have time to think about last night… about lying on the stairs, unable to move, about how good Macy looked, and how ashamed I felt, and still feel, for that matter. I might even have time to think about the fact that I’m capable of running. But I’ve got more important things on my mind… like getting to Macy before she leaves, and I dart through the door at the bottom of the stairs, going out into the bar. It’s dark in here. She didn’t put on the lights, but I don’tneed to either. I know this place like the back of my hand and I hasten over to the door, pulling it open.

She jumps and turns to face me, her eyes widening, and a blush creeping up her cheeks. In an instant, I decide against bringing up my reaction outside the bathroom. I might want to explain it, and to tell her she was the sole cause of my arousal, but I don’t want to embarrass her, and I think that might.

“What are you doing out here?” I ask. It seems like a fair question, given the weather. Her coat looks fairly warm, but it only comes down to just below her waist, and while she’s got her scarf wrapped around her neck, she’s not wearing a hat or gloves. She must be freezing.

She sucks in a breath, which mists before her as she lets it out, so I can only just see her biting on her bottom lip. It’s enough, though, and my dick hardens… even if I wish it wouldn’t, just this once. She might notice, and that’s the last thing I need. Besides, I’m trying to concentrate.

“I’m waiting for a cab,” she says.

“Can they get here?” I ask, recalling why she had to stay last night… because the cab company couldn’t get anyone out to her.

“Evidently. They can even get to Aunt Bernie’s.” She smiles and my heart flips over in my chest, which is even more distracting than my hard-on. That hasn’t happened for years. Years and years. It’s kinda like being reborn, and I step even further outside, despite the icy chill, wanting to be closer to her, in the hope my heart might react to her like that again… because I liked it. “That’s just as well,” she says, looking up at me.

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