Chapter 13 Desiree Dixon

I Didn’t Finish

I head back home on Monday, and I vaguely recall I promised myself I’d finish the book on the plane ahead of Wednesday’s book club meeting, but I can’t concentrate.

Instead, I think about Asher and our night together.

It hasn’t even been forty-eight hours yet, but I’m getting the message loud and clear.

He’s not interested enough to call me back.

It’s a shot to my ego.

He made me feel special for one night, and it was one night for the books. But as it turns out, he’s not much of a book boyfriend if he won’t even use the number I left to give me a call.

A tiny thought somewhere in the recesses of my mind wonders if maybe he never got my note. What if he didn’t?

Of course he did. I couldn’t have left it in a more obvious place, but I think of the millions of times my mom has complained about my dad. I could leave his keys in his hand, and he’d still ask me where they were.

If he didn’t see my number directly under his phone, he’d find a way to get in touch.

I’m home early enough that I decide to swing by the office—in large part to distract myself from checking my phone every few minutes, as if I’d miss his call when I’m glued to the damn thing.

I have plenty to catch up on when I return, and I stay late. The next day is equally busy, and I remind myself never to leave for a whole weekend again.

Except…I’m starting to feel restless, and I’m not even sure why.

I’ve had a one-night stand before, and it didn’t leave this sort of impression on me. So why did Asher? What was so different about him—about us together—that’s pulsing all these new feelings in me?

Being a junior planner isn’t my dream, and I have three years of experience under my belt now. Isn’t it time to stop chasing paperwork and start actually planning events?

Like the charity event I attended this weekend, for example.

And, of course, my mind turns back to Asher. It’s only been a few days at this point. The memory will fade, hopefully sooner than later, because I’m already driving myself crazy with how often he pops uninvited into my thoughts.

I was so wrapped up in him that I didn’t take the time to appreciate the event itself, nor did I bother networking in any way whatsoever. Who planned the event? Do they need help for next year? Does a private company plan it, or is it run by the Aces organization?

It could’ve been a great place to get my foot in the door in Vegas if I’m so inclined to move closer to my parents, but Asher distracted me.

He distracted me so much that I find myself at my Wednesday night book club meeting without having finished the book we’re discussing.

“What did you think about the twist in chapter thirty-two?” Addy asks.

Chloe and Lauren give their thoughts, and then they all look at me.

“I didn't get to it,” I admit. The eyes already looking at me widen. “I didn’t finish.”

“You didn't finish?” Addy repeats. “But we always finish.”

“I know we do, and it's like the one thing we can count on in this life, but I had planned to read the rest of it on the plane ride home, and then I was just…” I trail off. They’re staring at me with slackened jaws.

“You were just,” Chloe prompts.

“Distracted,” I finished.

“By what?” Lauren asks.

I draw in a deep breath as I prepare to launch into the story that feels like it started as a fairy tale but ended in a way I didn’t really expect given how connected I felt to him.

“Oh shit,” Chloe murmurs. “Did you see that deep breath?”

“What happened?” Lauren asks.

“You don't have to say,” Addy says a little defensively. “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas and all that. If you did something that you need to leave there—”

I hold up a hand to interrupt her. “It's fine,” I say. “Of course I'll tell you all what happened.”

“So something did happen,” Chloe says flatly.

“Something big,” Lauren agrees.

“Oh my God, stop. I met a guy at the charity ball, and we had a really nice night together, and that's it. It's not like it meant anything.”

“It's not like what meant anything?” Addy asks. “Wait. Did you have sex with him?”

My cheeks burn, and that's my first mistake—letting them see me sweat.

“Oh shit,” Chloe breathes. “Feelings.” She shakes her head. “She caught feelings.”

“Don't embarrass her about it if she did,” Lauren scolds her sister.

“Oh my gosh, you two. If she did, then you sitting here blabbing about it isn't going to make her feel any better.” Addy shakes her head, and I know I shouldn't be mortified about this in front of my best friends, yet I am.

He hasn’t called.

Why the hell hasn’t he called?

And that’s when Chloe asks, “Was it a football player?”

Everyone knows who the Nash brothers are. They’re football royalty, and Asher is the only remaining eligible one of the four brothers who seem to have been God's favorite when they were born since they're all beautiful, athletic, and smart.

If I can't be honest about my weekend with my best friends, then who can I be honest about it with? I need to talk about it, and these are the people I talk about every life event with, major or minor.

“I guess my dad somehow got a last-minute ticket from somebody who was going to bring a date and decided he wasn't. When I sat in the seat reserved for his date, he threw a line at me about how it must be fate because I was sitting in the spot of his date. We got to talking, which led to flirting, which led to drinking, and—"

“And it led to a hotel room?” Lauren guesses.

“Well, he didn't exactly have a hotel room when the night started, but I guess he got one when he thought we were heading in that direction,” I admit, and I realize how trashy it sounds when I say it that way. It didn’t feel trashy at the time, but that may have been the alcohol talking.

“Who?” all three of them say at the same time.

I clear my throat. “Asher Nash.”

I’m met with silence, followed by squeals and choruses of holy shit , oh my God , and how big was he?

All at the same time.

I turn to Chloe, who asked the size question, and I hold out my hands to indicate.

All three women gasp.

“Surely not,” Chloe breathes.

“I’m not even doing it justice,” I admit.

“And he could use it, too?” Lauren asks.

I nod slowly. “Oh yeah. He knew what he was doing.”

“So lucky,” Addy breathes.

“So then what? He treated you to breakfast, and you’re leaving us for Vegas?” Chloe asks.

“Not quite. My parents had to leave early thanks to my dad’s stomach issues, and my mom texted me at like two a.m. that they were out of Pepto. I didn’t particularly want to explain to them that I slept with one of my dad’s players when I showed up in the same dress I wore to the ball the morning after, so I left Asher a note with my number and headed home.”

“Ugh, parents with the cockblock,” Chloe mutters.

Addy shoots her a look before she turns to me. “Why didn’t you wake him up?”

I reach up and tug at the messy bun my hair is currently in. “I tried. I don’t know if it was the sex and whiskey or if he’s just a heavy sleeper, but he was out.”

“So how many hours before he called you?” Lauren asks.

I glance at my watch. “Four days and counting.”

Addy winces. “Oh, babe. Maybe he didn’t see your note.” Her tone is hopeful.

“I don’t know how he could have missed it. I stuck it under his phone. He presumably didn’t leave his phone in the hotel room, right?”

“Maybe he was so upset and distracted that you were gone that he just…picked up his phone without looking at what was under it,” Lauren suggests.

I lift a shoulder. “Maybe. But it sort of feels like the ball’s in his court now, and I can’t sit by the phone waiting for it to ring.”

All three of my friends are quiet, and I know what they’re thinking.

I wait for one of them to say it, and it’s Chloe. “Then ask your dad for his number. You can’t just leave it at one night, Desi.”

“You know as well as I do that I can’t ask my dad for Asher’s number,” I say.

“Then find him on social media,” Addy suggests.

Chloe and Lauren agree it’s a good idea, but I do not.

“No.” My voice is firm as I shake my head. “No. If he wants to get in touch, he will.”

“So you told him your dad is the new OC, then?” Chloe asks.

“I mean, not exactly,” I admit. I tug on my bun again.

Chloe lets out a heavy sigh. “So you’re telling me if he was a typical man who didn’t spot the tiny detail like a note you left behind, he has no other way of getting in touch with you?”

I purse my lips.

Is she right?

Before I can answer, Lauren asks, “When are you going back to Vegas?”

I lift a shoulder. “No idea. I haven’t made plans to return, and honestly, I feel a little burned right now. Maybe when the season starts.”

“It’s June, babe. The season starts in early September. You’re telling me you’re going to wait three to four months to visit your parents again?”

“I waited that long the first time to make it out there. Time flies when work keeps you busy, you know? And you know summer is our busiest time. I was shocked Angelica gave me this past weekend off. I can’t take another one, especially not so soon.”

“Who said it has to be a weekend? It’s a short flight. Get your ass back out there,” Chloe goads.

She’s probably right, but the more someone tells me I should do something, the more I’m going to push back, and I blame my dad and the stubborn gene he bestowed upon his only daughter for that.

“We’ll see,” I finally say as a way to get them off my back.

I glance out the window at the darkened view of the ocean outside, my chest tight as I think about how it felt like so much more than a one-night stand.

It wasn’t, and I remind myself of the truth.

I’m a sand-and-sunshine kind of girl at heart. This is home, and while my parents are in Vegas now, my first time to their new city taught me everything I need to know about it.

I’m not cut out for Vegas.