Missing Dixie(44)

He nods and takes another drink. “So you’re still good with that? Giving it another shot and going all in?”

I nod. “You know I am. But on two conditions.”

Dallas’s eyes lighten a shade. “Name ’em.”

“One, you and Gavin have got to come clean about everything. Everything and anything I missed or that has been kept from me.”

Dallas’s eyes go dim. “Dix, I know you think that would help. Women typically do seem to assume they need every detail of every event ever, but trust me, there are things you are truly better off not knowing. Especially when it comes to Gavin.”

I want to argue, but I can’t unsee what I saw tonight. So maybe he has a point.

“But—”

“No buts. I’m sure he plans to tell you the bulk of it, but some details are just that, pointless details and mistakes that don’t matter. You have to learn to accept what he’s capable of giving and not torturing yourself over things that have nothing to do with you.”

“If it has to do with him, it has to do with me,” I say quietly.

My brother puts his arm around me and gives me a light squeeze. “I know it feels that way sometimes, but believe me, even if that’s true, it would kill him for you to know some of the things he’s done at his lowest points.”

“It’s killing me not knowing.”

My brother takes a deep breath and rests his head on mine. “I know, little sister. I’m sorry.”

The clack of heels rings out like gunfire on the tile floor. I glance around Dallas and see her, the owner of the heels and the purposeful walk.

Gavin’s complicated blonde.

She looks entirely too put together for nearly two in the morning with her white silk shirt and black dress pants. I can’t be sure because I can’t see the bottoms, but I’m almost positive her heels are Louboutins. Robyn has a similar pair.

“What is she doing here?” Maybe it’s exhaustion or sleep deprivation, but seeing her here now confuses me to no end.

“Her name is Ashley Weisman. She’s his attorney.”

She looks too young to be an attorney, but whatever. And the way she was behaving with Gavin the night I first saw him at the Tavern sure didn’t look like an attorney-client relationship to me, unless there are extra attorney-client privileges I don’t know about.

I can feel my anxiety amping up as we watch her confer with an officer at the front desk.

When she walks over toward us, my heart pounds harder with each noisy step she takes. “How in the world did he afford her?”

Dallas closes his eyes as if I have asked a question far too complicated for him to answer. “It’s—”

“Do not say ‘complicated.’ I am serious,” I warn him. “It’s not a hard question. Lawyers cost money. She looks expensive. Gavin is not exactly rolling in cash.” I slow my speech to an intentionally drawn-out speed. “How. Did. He. Pay. For. Her. Services?”

He tries to look away before I see it, but Gavin is right. My brother and I do not have any type of poker face to speak of. We wear everything we think and feel right there for the world to see.

What I just saw makes my stomach clench and my chest ache. I can already smell her expensive perfume from where I’m sitting and she’s not even all the way to us yet.

“She hardly seems like his type,” I grumble under my breath. But then maybe I don’t know Gavin’s type. Maybe she’s exactly his type.

He said he loved me.

Over and over actually. I tried not to make a “thing” of it because he can be twitchy when it comes to emotions, but he said it.

The corners of Dallas’s mouth quirk up slightly. “She isn’t. Believe me.”

Ashley the Expensive Lawyer who apparently accepts sexual favors as payment makes a beeline for Dallas.

“Mr. Lark,” she says with alert green eyes. “I’m Ashley Weisman. We spoke on the phone earlier. Thank you so much for calling me.”

“No, problem. Thank you for coming out so late.”

I have a childlike urge to kick her in the shin.

“I’m Dixie,” I say slightly louder than necessary while stepping between them and shoving my hand at her. The surprise is evident on her face. “And now that we’re all acquainted, can you tell us how much longer it will be until they let him go?”

“Ah, yes. The piano player. From the bar,” she says as if the words taste bad in her mouth. “I remember.” It’s clear she’s sizing me up and I make a point to not shrink in her presence.

Dallas looks confused by her statement and I attempt to mimic his expression. “Glad I made an impression. I don’t recall having met you.”

A twinge of annoyance creases her delicate features but I just smile. Once upon a time I was intimidated by women like her. Polished. Professional. Sophisticated in ways I could and would never be. But after the Mandy Lantram Experience, I have realized that we are all just human beings and that each of us has our own kind of beauty and our own flaws.

“Yes, well, I don’t think we ever officially met. Gavin doesn’t typically do well with introductions.”

She knows what he typically does or doesn’t do well with?

“And how do you know him, exactly? Gavin, I mean.”