Connected (Connections, #1)(47)

The now, narrow-eyed man looks up at River and interrupting him, seethes, “I heard you, and once again I’m going to . . .”

This time River doesn’t let him finish, and he leans in as close as possible and very politely says, “I think it’s time you call for Mr. Hughes.” Then, looking at his nametag and smirking, he adds, “Joe.”

Who’s Mr. Hughes?

The now completely flustered man stutters before regaining his composure. He stands up very straight and manages to nicely say, “Why don’t we see if I can fix your situation before I call Mr. Hughes. You were saying?” Swallowing back my laughter at the suddenly very funny situation, River cocks his head and winks at me. Then he takes my hand, squeezes it, and sets it on the counter in his so our elbows are almost connected.

Before I know it, the red-clad uniformed man is calling housekeeping himself, asking about items that may have been found in the safe in my room. By some grace of God he tells us the necklace had been found and was put in the main hotel safe.

River drops my hand to very politely shake hands with the clerk. Then before thanking him, he removes his wallet from his back pocket and hands the now jubilant Joe a hundred-dollar bill. Nodding his head he says discreetly, “Joe please see to it that the necklace gets delivered to us in the bar.”

Joe, very happily accepting his more than generous tip, responds, “Yes sir, not a problem.”

We head to the same bar where River waited for me last night. It seems like way more time has passed than just one day. I feel so connected to this man, like I’ve known him for a very long time. As we’re seated, River pulls my chair out for me and I nod my head and grin, but before I sit, I stand on my tippy toes and kiss him on his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Dahlia, don’t thank me. It’s my fault you lost your necklace to begin with,” he says, caressing my cheek before motioning me to sit down. Sitting next to me, he grabs my hand and strokes it with his thumb before leaning over and kissing me.

Our waitress arrives, and we order two beers and one glass of ice, of course River snickers. When he asks me what I want to eat, I motion to the casino and say, “Anything, right now I could eat the craps table over there,” and we both laugh, because really, couldn’t I have just said the blackjack table.

He orders a burger and fries and I order a grilled cheese sandwich, fries, and a chocolate milkshake. I ask the waitress to bring my shake with my food.

River looks at me a little puzzled.

“What? I like to dip my sandwich in the shake.”

He shakes his head. “That sounds disgusting.”

“Try it. I guarantee you’ll love it.”

“Hmm . . .”

Once our drinks arrive, I gulp my beer down before deciding to say what I should have said in the car. Looking into River’s eyes filled with so much kindness, I say, “I’m sorry I sort of freaked, but the necklace isn’t replaceable.” Pausing, I swallow the lump in my throat before continuing.

Tilting his head, he continues to look at me and simply says, “I guessed that by your reaction.”

Nodding in agreement, I clear my throat and tuck my hair behind my ear. “Here’s the thing, the necklace isn’t just a necklace,” I pause again, willing the stinging in my eyes to go away.

River, obviously having noticed my uneasiness leans forward in his chair, bending slightly into me, and grabs for my hand with both of his. “Go on. What?”

Before I can finish, Joe saunters in, smiling like he just hit the jackpot on the casino floor and hands River an envelope that says ‘From Room 716’ on it. River nods and says thank you again and Joe walks away to go back to his desk duties I assume.

Handing me the envelope, I let go of his hand and open it. I hesitate before pulling the ring out. As I do, I clasp it in my hand and looking him sincerely in the eyes I say, “This is my engagement ring—from Ben.”

He quickly leans back in his chair and takes a large gulp of beer, obviously not expecting that. Crossing his leg over his knee he asks, “Can I see it?” His eyes now filled with something. It’s not kindness though; I think it’s more like sadness.

Biting my lip, I hand it to him with shaky fingers. My heart begins beating faster than the levers being pulling on the slot machines. He stares at it for a few seconds before gently placing it back in my hand and squeezing it shut, as if not seeing it makes it go away. “It’s beautiful, just like the woman who wore it,” he says, looking intently in my eyes. I notice the use of the word—wore.

“Can I ask you something?” he says.

My hands are still shaky as I hold the ring and answer, “Of course.”

Pointing to my wrist, he asks, “Is that bracelet from him?”

Swallowing my emotion, I lift my arm and answer, “Yes, Ben gave it to me the day he died, and every time I look at it, it reminds me to live life to the fullest, to have no regrets.”

“Well, that too, is beautiful and a great way to live life, Dahlia.”

Then he surprises me. “Do you want to talk about it, about him?”

After tucking the ring safely inside my purse, I answer very softly. “Honestly, no. No I don’t. I’m having an amazing time with you. I haven’t had this much fun in a long time, and I don’t want to drag our weekend down with sad conversations.” I say the last part while reaching my hand across the table and caressing his cheek.