Page 23 of Don't Remind Me
I hadn’t expected to see her today.
Dani stood inside the door a few feet past the hostess stand, somehow looking regal in a tank top and pants. Her dark hair was up in a way that looked effortless and flawless all at once, and I had the sudden urge to drive my hands into the strands and muss them up, see how beautiful she looked disheveled.
Until I caught the way her hands were clutched to her chest.
Her legs were close together, elbows tucked in at her sides, everything about her trying to appear small. Everything except her eyes, which were almost as wide as the orb lanterns along the walls as she stared aimlessly behind the bar.
“Dani?”
She blinked as if coming out of a daze. “Hey,” she said as I approached, her voice tight. A strained smile pulled at her lips. She was the girl from the first day we met all over again—only, this time, there was no question she was terrified. She uncrossed her arms to reveal a handful of dark purple envelopes. “I just came to drop these off for Jillian.” Her hand trembled as she passed them to me.
I placed them on the bar, my eyes never leaving her face. “What’s going on?”
She shook her head like she didn’t know what I was talking about, but she also wouldn’t meet my gaze. “I, um, left a Post-it on the top one with my cell number,” she said, pointing at the envelopes. “I’ll be working from home for a bit, so if Jillian needs to reach me, she can call me directly instead of at the office.”
A slick feeling worked its way up my spine. “Why are you working from home?”
She shook her head again and swallowed. “It’s nothing,” she said, forcing brightness into her voice. It sounded high and squeaky and fake, and the wrongness of it clashed in my head like a smoke alarm, making my stomach curl. I never wanted her to be fake with me. Especially not when it was obvious something serious was going on. “There was just a note on my car, and Talia and the security guard thought it might be safer for me to stay home for the time being, but they’re sure it’s nothing to worry about.”
My brain cut out atsafer, my muscles pulling tight as my instincts went on high alert. “What kind of note? Are you okay?”
She clearly wasn’t. Her chin quivered and her nostrils flared as she blinked back tears.
Everything in me ached to reach out and pull her to me. I would have if I was sure it wouldn’t freak her out more. The need to comfort her, to shield her, gripped me so suddenly I didn’t know what to do with it.
“I, um…” She dropped her gaze to the floor. “I’d rather not talk about it. It’s no big deal, honestly. Just let Jillian know for me, yeah?” Her reddened eyes flashed to mine for the briefest of seconds before she turned for the door.
“Wait.” My mind raced as she paused, my pulse chasing close behind.
The light from the floor-to-ceiling windows framed her with its glow as she looked over her shoulder.
“You could work here if you want.”
Her eyes widened.
“It’s quiet during the day,” I said. Which was the exact moment someone dropped what sounded like a steel pot on the floor, the crash blaring through the restaurant. “Most of the time,” I added, one corner of my mouth lifting. “Quieter than a coffee shop, and you won’t have to pay seven fifty for a latte to use the Wi-Fi. You could use Jillian’s office if you wanted. She wouldn’t mind, plus then she’d know exactly where to find you if she had any last-minute ideas for the symposium.”
I wasn’t sure why I was pushing the idea so hard. Only that I couldn’t watch her leave and do nothing. I didn’t know where she lived—if she had roommates or a doorman or any sort of security. And I had no clue what the note said or who the fucker was who’d left it on her car.
But I did know what it was like to need a safe space. And this restaurant was mine.
I’d built it that way. I’d hired the staff, trained them to work as a team, and cultivated an environment where we actually cared about one another. Not just for me, but so this could be a safe space for anyone who worked here. The kind of space I’d been lucky enough to find at eighteen.
And more than anything, I wanted Dani to feel safe.
“And you wouldn’t be alone,” I said finally.
She stood quiet for several long beats, chest heaving with short breaths as she fought to stay composed. Then it was like the walls around her crumbled, her face falling and shoulders dropping as she took three giant steps forward and crushed herself to me.
My arms were around her in an instant, pulling her tighter against my chest as if I could block out anything that could possibly hurt her. I’d sure as hell try.
She let out a long, shaky breath, burying her face in the crook of my neck, her hands squeezing around my waist. Eventually, the pounding of her heart against my ribs calmed, and the trembling of her body eased. I rubbed small circles against her lower back, in no rush to release her.
After another moment, she loosened her grip and leaned back enough to meet my gaze. “Thank you,” she said. Her eyes were a little puffy, but they’d softened, the tension and fear from before replaced with a warmth that had my muscles unwinding and emotion burning in my chest.
“Any time,” I replied, voice thick.
We stayed like that, arms loose around each other as our gazes lingered. Light green flecks dotted her irises, swimming in the crystal-blue waters of her eyes.
