Tinsel (Lark Cove #4)(54)

It was a simple question, one I should have been able to answer. “I don’t know.”

That was the problem.

I didn’t know who I was. The version of myself I used to know, I didn’t like.

Aubrey gave me a sympathetic smile and stood. She was wearing a navy pencil skirt, a blue pin-striped shirt and nude patent pumps. Her blazer had been discarded over the back of a spare chair. “Let’s go somewhere low-key.”

“Sounds good.” I stood and gathered our dishes. Instead of putting it all in the sink for Carrie to deal with in the morning, I trashed the box and rinsed the dishes, putting them in the dishwasher.

“Your driver or mine?” Aubrey asked, taking out her phone.

“Yours. Or we could get a cab, maybe?”

Her jaw dropped. “I’m worried about what happened to you in Montana.”

Neither of us had been in a cab in decades because . . . germs.

I laughed. “Then call your driver. I don’t want to bother Glen. He has young kids, and it’s already dark. I’m sure the last thing he wants is to come and pick us up so we can get a drink.”

“But it’s his job. We pay them to be on call at all times.”

“Then call yours.”

She already was. Her fingers flew over her phone as she messaged him for a ride.

Thirty minutes later, we were at a small bar not too far from my building. It was quiet and dim, and we chose a booth in the corner.

“What can I get you?” the server asked.

“I’d like a huckleberry mojito.”

Now it was his turn to look at me like I’d grown two heads. “What’s a huckleberry?”

“Never mind,” I muttered. “I’ll just have a glass of red.”

Before I’d gone to Lark Cove the first time, I hadn’t known what a huckleberry was either. They were a berry local to the Pacific Northwest.

“Same.” Aubrey held up two fingers.

As the server left to get our drinks, I looked over to the bar, hoping to see a snack tray. I wasn’t hungry, but I wanted a peanut.

My Dakota hangover was getting worse.

“We kind of got off topic at your place.” Aubrey stowed her phone in her handbag, giving me her full attention. “Tell me about this guy you met in Montana.”

“Did you ever meet Dakota? He works for Thea at the bar.”

Her eyes turned to saucers. “Black eyes, dark hair, scorch-the-earth hot Dakota?”

“That’s the one.” Though she’d forgotten sweet, kind and unforgettable. “We had a fling.”

“You don’t do flings.”

“No, I don’t.” I had relationships. Always. “But you know, it was good. We ended on good terms—also something I don’t normally do.”

I spent the time it took us to drink two glasses of wine telling Aubrey all about my time in Montana. I told her about Dakota and how he’d shown me a different side to the world. How ten days in his simple lifestyle had been more fulfilling than the elaborate charade I’d created in my thirty-two years.

“Do you think you guys could try something long-distance?” Aubrey asked.

“No. We totally connected, you know? But we have such different lives. I think we were perfect for a fling. Long-term, we’d probably end up hating one another.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Nothing. Something.” I just didn’t know what yet.

We sipped the dregs of our wine, and I glanced at the clock above the bar. “It’s late. I guess I’d better let you get home. You probably have early morning meetings.”

Aubrey smiled, not groaning like I would have at the prospect of getting up at five to be at work by six. “That’s probably a good idea. I’m tired.”

We slid out of our booth, leaving some cash on the table for the drinks. Then we went outside and into the cold, where her driver was waiting.

The ride home was short, and I hugged Aubrey good-bye from the back of her town car before hustling inside my building and upstairs. The moment the penthouse door closed behind me, I leaned back against it and smiled.

Because I had a sister.

She’d always been there, but tonight, I’d had a friend too.

I dug my phone from my purse, not questioning or doubting my actions, and pulled up Dakota’s number.

My heart raced as it rang once then twice. When he didn’t answer on the third ring, I panicked, ready to hang up and forget it had ever happened. But then his voice came on the line and all my worries went away.

“Hey.”

That voice. I twirled in a circle as I walked down the hall to my bedroom. “Hi. Am I bothering you?”

“Nope. Just at the bar. It’s dead. I’m watching the game on TV until it’s time to close.”

“You should go home.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, sounding melancholy. Lonely.

He sounded hungover too.

The corner of my mouth pulled up, loving that my misery had company. “How have you been?”

“Meh. Fine.”

“Is this okay? Me calling you?”

“Yeah. Thought about calling you yesterday too.”

My heart soared. “It’s weird to just shut things off, isn’t it?”