Page 159 of Dex

We were like fire and ice.Opposites, yet complementing one another perfectly.We just didn’t know it at the time.We thought we were getting on while pretending not to care while the air between us crackled.

Tonight feels different yet familiar.I’m curious as to why he asked me to meet him here.It’s not quite Valentine’s Day yet, and it’s not even the weekend.He’s always so busy working hard at the office, and I’m still working from home.

Home.

My heart floods with warmth when I think of home.It’s not Dexter’s apartment that’s home.Home is wherever he is.The elevator dings and opens onto the familiar view.But as I step into the familiar lounge bar, and look around, it’s empty.

“Daniela, it’s me, Luke.We met before.”I remember now.The guy who sent us the bottle of Cristal champagne.He’s tall, with copper-colored hair and the bluest eyes, and all in black.

“I remember.Hi.What’s going on?”

“Everything’s fine.Dexter’s outside, waiting for you.”

“Outside?”

“He has something … arranged for you.”A hint of a smile.“Please, come this way.”He gestures for me to follow him.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

So I do, and we get back into the elevator, my heart racing.I have no idea what to expect.But we’re hardly in there are a few seconds when elevator doors glide open and I let out a gasp as my eyes sweep across the twinkling lights.

“I didn’t know you had a rooftop garden.”

Luke chuckles softly.“Hope you like it.”

Twinkling fairy lights are strung above a glass canopy.Warm shadows fall over frost-kissed ivy and delicate white roses tucked into sculptural planters along the perimeter.I feel the warmth coming from heaters, but I don’t see them anywhere.I see only marble benches.

In any case, the crisp February air feels warm enough that my long camel coat suddenly seems a tad too thick.

“This ...this is like being in a fairytale.”

When I turn to Luke again, he’s gone.I walk around, taking in the skyline and then I see him.

My ex-husband.

My darling Dexter.

He’s standing tall, tailored, and visibly tense, his hands bracketing the iron railings.He sees me, and turns, shoving his hands into the pockets of his long black cashmere coat as he walks towards me.

That’s when I see it, behind him.

A small round table draped in deep navy velvet, with a silver champagne bucket resting on top.A bottle of champagne inside, flanked by two tall flutes and a single pale blush rose in a crystal bud vase.

“Dexter …” I whisper, my breath leaving a trail of white curls in the cold air.

“Are you cold?”he asks, concern lining his brow.

“Not anymore.”We meet in the middle, standing face to face, the view before us a glittering galaxy.Snow flurries swirl lazily in the air like confetti.

The world below fades away, and all that remains is the quiet hum of city lights and the way he looks at me, like this is a dream.His dream, and it’s come true.

It’s my dream, too, and I fight the urge to pinch myself.

His hand reaches for my face, the same time as I place my hand on his chest.

He inhales a steadying breath.himself.“I didn’t know how to do this the right way,” he says.“There’s no manual for falling in love with the one person who sees through all your bullshit.”

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