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“I told her to bring you,” he said quietly.
“You did? Why?” I asked, my head spinning towards him. He looked straight ahead, his steely blue eyes hidden in the flashing shadows of dusk.
“I saw your picture on her desk one day,” he continued, his voice low and far-away. “Something about you made me stop and look twice. You were sitting in a crowd of people, at a party or something. Everyone was smiling and talking behind you, but you sat off to the side, with a book in your lap. You’d looked up at the photographer, and it was obvious you’d been interrupted. There was this ethereal light in your eyes, in that flash of a second. It was if you’d been captured—half in the real world and half out of it, as if you were lost in whatever book you were reading and suspended between worlds. Something about it charmed me. I asked Matilda about you.”
“Oh, I see,” I replied, thoughtfully. I wasn’t sure if that was weird or not.
“Matilda’s face lights up like a Christmas tree when she talks about you, Chloe,” he said. “She’s very proud of you.”
“Really? That’s surprising.”
“Is it? She loves you, it’s obvious.”
“Well, like I mentioned before, she’s basically been too distracted by her career my whole life to pay much attention to anything I’ve done.”
“She loves you,” he nodded firmly. “Anyway, I asked her to bring you to the party because I was curious what Matilda’s daughter would be like in person.”
“And? What was I like?”
“You were nothing like Matilda!” he said, roaring with laughter. “You were shy and quiet and withdrawn.”
“You asked me to dance,” I said, remembering the night clearly. He’d intimidated me. I was still a teenager and he’d seemed so much older and sophisticated than me. And he was so incredibly handsome. He was so far out of my league, I never once imagined we’d be here today. When he’d asked me to dance, I was mortified, but I’d said yes because I didn’t want to upset my mom.
“That’s right, I did. You remember?”
“Of course, I remember,” I said. “It wasn’t that long ago.” I’d never danced with a man before—only a few boys during high school dances amongst a bunch of other kids our age. It was always awkward and weird and we all avoided the slow dances as much as possible.
Dancing with a handsome man I barely knew at a luxurious grown-up party wasn’t something I was prepared for. In fact, I remember being so irritated that Mom made me go, that I put a book in my purse, expecting to sit in the corner by myself and read all night. I’d done just that until Bear had walked up out of the blue and asked me to dance.
“Do you remember the song?”
“Some slow Motown thing,” I said.
“It was ‘Oh, No’ by the Commodores,” he said.
“I can’t believe you remember that,” I said, looking over at him. “I just remember thinking the lyrics seemed overly sappy and romantic.”
He laughed loudly, making me laugh with him.
“I guess they were,” he said. “I didn’t think about that too much then. To me, you didn’t seem like a child, Chloe. You were already eighteen, right?”
“I was,” I said. “But barely. What does this have to do with my question?”
“I’ve been thinking about you ever since then, Chloe,” he said, growing serious again.
“You have?” I asked, my voice raising in bewilderment.
“It started when I saw your picture. Then, when I met you, something about you captured me. It was like a switch went off. Like I’d finally found something I didn’t realize I was looking for.”
“Seriously?” I asked.
“Yes. I know it doesn’t make sense,” he said, “and you were way too young, too shy, too quiet. You were about to start college, I knew you had so much ahead of you.”
“I don’t really know what to say,” I replied, my mind spinning.
“There’s nothing to say. I’m just answering your question. When I saw you again that day at lunch in Portland with Matilda, the feelings I’d had before were only reinforced. But when you so passionately dug your heels in about moving to New York, I saw something else in you that I hadn’t seen before. A spark. A quiet determination and yet there was so much more. You seemed lost and wild, like maybe you were looking for someone to guide you. I acted solely on my intuition. I took a huge chance that day. You could have run out of that room screaming. It would have been a huge embarrassment for me. But something else happened, didn’t it?”
“Yes,” I answered quietly, remembering, “it did.”
“Something magical, if you ask me,” he replied, squeezing my knee. I looked over at him, a million more questions in my head. I nodded in agreement, quiet again and lost in my own thoughts.
What had he seen in me at eighteen? I had no idea who I was back then. Was I wild and lost? Maybe I was. But isn’t every eighteen year old wild and lost?
The thought that I’d been on his mind all this time had completely taken me aback. How was that even possible? I had no idea I was even on his radar. Everything had seemed so spontaneous and random. To think that it wasn’t—well, I just didn’t know what to think about that.
“I’m sure this comes as a surprise to you,” he said.
“That’s putting it mildly,” I said. We were close to home now, the city sparkling like a blanket of stars stretching out in front of us.
“What did you think of me that night?” he asked. “You were polite enough and danced with me, but I could tell you couldn’t wait to get away.”
I nodded quietly, remembering, his words putting me right back there in the moment. Mostly, I remembered his hands.
They’re so hot! I thought. Mr. Dalton’s hands radiated a heat like nothing I’d felt before.
One of his hands was holding mine and the other one was pressed against the small of my back and somehow created the distinct sensation of making the fabric of my dress melt away. It felt like skin on skin, just like the skin of his palm that was touching my palm as we moved together on the dance floor.
He was leading. I’d stepped on his foot twice already, once the left, lightly, then the right, so hard that he’d winced, the skin beside his eyes wrinkling up in deep crow’s feet. I could only manage a very quick glance, because his dark blue eyes seemed to be trying to pierce right through me and it was making me nervous.
From the way his hands felt against me and the way he was looking at me, I felt like I was having that dream again that I used to have. You know the one—where you’re giving a presentation in class and you look down and suddenly you’re naked and everyone’s laughing and pointing at your private bits.
It was like that.
Only, Mr. Dalton wasn’t laughing or pointing.
He was looking at me the way I looked at that frog in biology my Freshman year in high school. I was so curious back then—I wanted to know everything about it, see every single intestine and ligament and organ. I focused on it like a laser, drinking in every detail.
I couldn’t look at him, but I could feel his gaze on my face. My eyes stayed averted and I looked everywhere but at him. I just wanted the dance to be over. Why in the world would a man like him want to dance with a girl like me?
He was enormous—not just his body, but his presence was overwhelming, too. Way too much for eighteen year-old me to even begin to have the skills to process.
I mean, he was incredibly handsome, built like a god, don’t get me wrong. But with every word he said, the low rumble of his voice seemed to vibrate directly to my gut. I didn’t really hear a word, I was so focused on getting away from him.
He was like a flame that I was being made to touch against my will.
“Chloe?” he asked, pulling me back to the moment. “Do you remember?”
“Yes,” I replied. “I was just very overwhelmed by you, that’s all I really remember.”
“I got that impression,” he said. “That was unfortunate. But understandable. You
were young.”
“I’m still pretty young,” I shrugged.
“That’s true, but there’s a big difference between eighteen and twenty-six.”
“I suppose,” I said, my mind trying to process all of this information. I’d barely given him a second thought since that dance. To think that it meant more to him was bewildering. And a little unbelievable.
He was rich and powerful. He could have any woman he wants, why would he waste two seconds thinking of a naive, inexperienced, shy girl he barely knew?
“I imagine this makes you look at me a little differently?” he asked.
“I—well, I don’t know. I don’t think so. I just don’t understand why you’d be interested in a girl like me—now or then.”
“You underestimate yourself, you know that, Chloe?” he said, the lights from the city now flashing on his face. “You’re a beautiful, intelligent, thoughtful woman. Any man would be lucky to spend time with you. Even me.”
I nodded and tried to smile.
I tried to believe him.
I wanted to believe him.
But it all seemed so far-fetched. There wasn’t anything all that special about me. To think he saw something in me that I didn’t see myself made me question everything.
Who was I?
Have you ever wished you could see yourself as others see you?
I sighed, sinking back into the seat as Bear kept driving, his Jeep immersing us deeper and deeper into the city as he drove me home. Our reflection flashed in the glass windows of the buildings and I saw us—a seemingly normal couple doing a seemingly normal act of driving down a street—and yet, I felt like I was watching a movie, as if none of this was really happening to me.
Believing that I’d catch the attention of a man like Bear, have an opportunity to live in a city like this, to experience the things I’d experienced in the last few weeks, did not come easy or natural. It was far from ordinary, far from normal.
And yet, although I’d been plopped into this life out of nowhere, Bear seemed to act like it was the most natural thing in the world. And now I knew why. He’d been thinking about me for years. He’d played out the scenarios we’d been acting out in his head for years.
But this wasn’t a movie.
This was real life.
My life.
And most of all, I needed it to make sense.
I wasn’t sure how to make that happen. Maybe I’d have to keep asking questions until something clicked. Maybe I’d get there with the passing of time.
