Page 30 of He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

‘Where am I gonna go?’ she asks. ‘Nobody wants me around because I’m a self-centered jerk.’

‘That’snottrue.’ She really feels that way? ‘Ten minutes, Hols. Don’t attack anybody else, OK?’ I earn another smile as I back down the hall to finish my shower.

When I walk into my living room ten minutes later, she’s on the couch, legs crossed beneath her, the TV blasting. I grab the remote and click off the show she watches repeatedly.

‘Come on,’ I say, grabbing my keys. ‘Want to see a piece of your past?’

She looks at my hand now extended her way. ‘It’s after midnight.’

‘Do you have a curfew I don’t know about?’

‘No,’ she laughs.

‘Then what’s the hold-up? We’re grown-ups now, Hols. We can do anything we want.’

Finally, she takes my hand.

* * *

Twenty Minutes Later…

I type a code into the garage entrance, parking on the top floor, and do the same to get into the building. I’d rather not go through security on the ground floor because he’ll call up to Jake and announce my arrival. The last thing I need is him or Brynn knowing I secretly come up to the roof of their building.

‘Where are we?’

‘Best rooftop in the city, and I just happen to have access. One more floor,’ I say, leading the way up the stairs to the roof, stopping just inside the door that leads to a little-known garden.

‘Eyes closed,’ I say, turning to Hollyn when we’re both on the landing.

‘Nope.’ She shakes her head. ‘I hate surprises. They make me anxious.’

‘You hate surprises? That’s new.’

She lifts both shoulders. ‘Blame Tristan because every surprise he ever gave me was really for him. Including him ambushing me with a publicly humiliating break-up.’

Ah. Tristan created some fears and insecurities, did he? Why am I not surprised?

‘How about we don’t say his name for a while?’

Hols crosses her arms over her chest, her cheeks pink. ‘Fine.’

I open the door and step through, holding it for her so I can see her reaction. Her eyes grow wide as she steps onto the roof, her arms dropping from their defensive stance to her sides.

‘Whoa,’ she says, walking through an arbor covered in vining flowers and twinkle lights.

Boxwood topiaries line one side of a plank wood walkway, and thousands of colorful wildflowers are growing in raised boxes on all four sides. Lights are wound up potted tree trunks, some currently blooming with sweet-smelling flowers. In the center is a seating area around a gas fire pit, and a pool is off to one side, the water glowing. Not a soul is up here, considering it’s late, which is what I was hoping for.

‘This is—’ She strolls the edge of the wildflower boxes, her fingertips grazing the tips of ornamental grasses along the edge of the beds, her eyes on the city lights flickering all around us. ‘Magical. How’d you find this place?’

‘I created this place,’ I tell her, glancing around at my work.

‘What?’

I shove my hands in my pockets and nod. ‘Tried my hand as a landscaper for a couple years. My cousin lives in the building and tipped me off they were taking bids, so I took a chance, threw my name in the hat, and voila! Magical rooftop garden I now escape to whenever I need to think.’

A smile grows on her face. ‘It’s beautiful, Dax.’

‘Grab a seat; it gets better.’ I point to a couple of double lounge chairs in a corner. Then I flip a hidden switch that shuts off all the overhead lights, leaving only the lighting along the rooftop edges and the pool light aglow.

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