Page 17 of The Last Dance You Saved
“You lost the love of your life,” I said, forcing my voice to gentle. “Try not to beat yourself up too hard.”
“And she lost her fath—”
Her unfinished sentence tore through me.
“I have to go.”
“Rafe…”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I hung up before she could apologize for stating the simple truth, one I’d thought hundreds of times myself.
I sat down and pulled my laptop toward me. I needed to get ready for my meeting in thirty minutes. I had a list of things to review with the operations manager, including how every single floral arrangement in the hotel needed to be replaced. The ones in the café today had been in even worse shape than the ones by the piano bar last night.
But thoughts of the café only caused Puzo’s pleased expression to come flooding back in and, along with it, Sadie’s pissed-off shock. I closed the calendar app and found the app my assistant had used to handle the dart tournament entries. I pulled up Sadie’s form and then clicked over to the employee background check software we used when hiring.
As soon as the data came tumbling back in, relief eased over my shoulders. She was exactly who she’d said she was—the youngest member of the Hatley family, with a bar in her name in some small town in the northeastern mountains of Tennessee.
The birthdate and the image on her driver’s license proved just how young Sadie really was. Too damn young for me. Definitely too young for Puzo, who was another five years older than me. So, what had she wanted with him? How had they met? I couldn’t see him wanting to invest in a tiny Tennessee bar that barely operated in the black. It wasn’t his style at all.
Why the hell did I care?
Disgusted with myself, I closed the app and returned to my calendar. I’d handle the meeting with the operations manager about the florist, and then, I had a video call with my Far East operations manager to discuss the clubs in Japan and Singapore. It might be the middle of the night in Tokyo, but my business rarely slept, just like the city I’d made my home. Just like I rarely did. It suited me fine on most days. Kept me busy. Filled the void.
But I also had Fallon upstairs waiting, and when she was here, I always tried to finish early to give her as much of my time as possible. While this hadn’t been a planned visit, I’d still do whatever I could to wrap things up so she wouldn’t be alone with her thoughts and her worries and her grief.
? ? ?
When I returned to the penthouse that afternoon, the place reeked of pizza, and it made my stomach turn. It was one of my least favorite foods, and Fallon knew it. It was her way of punishing me the same way I was punishing her by having locked her in the suite.
She was lying on the couch with the comforter from her bedroom covering her. The pizza box was on the glass coffee table, leaving grease and crumbs on the pristine surface. A soda can was leaving a ring, sitting next to two others that had already left their marks. My jaw ticked at the carelessness of it.
As I stepped into the living room, Fallon raised a brow uncannily like mine, picked up the soda, took a long drink, and then slammed it down on the table. She was daring me to say something, daring me to react to the mess she’d purposefully created, knowing I disliked it as much as I disliked pizza.
Instead, I took off my suit jacket and laid it carefully on the back of an armchair before joining her on the sofa. I had to shove the comforter aside to do so, but I wanted to be close to her. Hoping somehow to reach her. To somehow close the widening gap between us. I glanced up at the show she’d paused. Two teens kissing. Damn, did I dislike that.
“What are you watching?” I asked, keeping my tone as neutral as possible.
She huffed. “Are you going to tell me what I can and can’t watch now too? You used to be the fun parent.”
I had been, but it had only been out of desperation. I’d needed to build as many positive memories with her as I possibly could in the short amount of time we’d spent together each year.
“Can’t I ask what you’re watching without it being more than that?”
“Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” she said reluctantly.
It was my turn to raise a brow. I knew the show but mostly by name. While it had a cult following, it had never been my thing, especially not when it had originally aired when I’d been a kid. Growing up on the ranch, there’d always been too much to do, too much I’d rather be doing than watch TV.
“What got you started on a show older than you?” I asked.
“She’s badass.” She looked at me as if I’d scold her for cussing, and when I didn’t remark, she kept going. “Her dad isn’t in the picture, and her mom is clueless, dealing with her own things, but Buffy doesn’t let that stop her from killing vampires and defending the entire world.”
I barely held back my snort at the obvious parallels she’d made to her own life.
“Would have been nice to know you didn’t talk to your mom last night,” I said, changing the subject.
“Do you know how long it took her to realize I was even gone?” she asked bitterly.
Too long. “You can’t possibly understand what she’s going through. Maybe, someday, you’ll love someone so much that you feel like they’re the limb you never knew you were missing, and you’ll start to appreciate it. But the only way you’d truly get it is if, God forbid, something happens to rip that person from you. Even then, you might not really get it because Spence and Lauren…” I swallowed hard. “They loved each other from the time they played tag in the barn as toddlers. They spent a lifetime loving each other.”
