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Dixie:Working. Is that a problem?
Jasper:Working for who?
Dixie:Belle City Digest. I’m a reporter now. I can’t get out of this. I didn’t know you’d be the person I’m interviewing until an hour ago.
Jasper:You shouldn’t have come back.
Dixie:I didn’t plan to.
Jasper:Meet me by the fountain in ten minutes.
Dixie:That’s not a good idea.
Jasper:Fountain. Ten minutes. Or the interview is canceled.
Claire needs this. Shit.
Dixie:As you wish.
Shaking out my hands, pacing back and forth a few steps around the room, I’m officially terrified.
Why the hell does he want to see me? He can’t yell at me at a gala, even the fountain isn’t far enough away for that. Christ, I’m going to see his face. I’m going to see his face and have to keep myself from crying.
Forcing myself to get out of my head my neck rolls, releasing some pressure as it cracks. I calm my nerves, trying to push myself into professional mode.
This is my job, that’s all it is. I have to be nice, gracious and polite.
I don’t even bother checking the leads on the Burke case. Choosing to leave the bathroom quickly and head toward the back exit closest to the garden. I know this place better than most, and I could get to our former spot of choice blindfolded if I needed to.
My Aphrodite fountain.
The structure isn’t illuminated and flowing with shimmery water like it always used to be. It’s dark and murky, turned off without an ounce of beauty to show for.
It’s abandoned, like I abandoned him.
The entire garden is. There are dead plants everywhere, crunching underneath the weight of my heels. The only source of light stems from a few lamp posts and some security lights attached to the pool house.
My heart aches, taking in the graveyard of our former garden.
A tear crawls down my cheek before I can stop it.
“Sad, isn’t it?” The buttery voice of my former love creeps up behind me. “It used to be quite a sight out here. Obviously things have changed.” I wipe the tear away quickly, hoping he won’t notice, but he does. “What exactly do you have to cry over, Dixie? You left me. You did this to the garden.You.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Jasper.” I can’t look at him and he can’t look at me. We’re standing side by side, staring into the remnants of our lifeless yard.
Our dead love.
A moment passes. Maybe two.
“I want you to admit it,” he growls, grabbing my arms and spinning me to see him. As he meets my eye, I’m given a look into the pain I’ve caused him. Nothing has ever felt worse than facing him here and now.
Jasper is still,deliriouslyhandsome. Denying that would be laughable.
He’s thirty-six now, dressed in the sexiest tuxedo a man could wear. Classic black coat, crisp white shirt, with a solid black skinny tie. His hair is still dark brown and his eyes are pools of caramel that I love more than the candies themselves. His skin is tanned like it always used to be in the summer months. Strange, since it’s February. Jasper is even more fit then he was when we were together, but I knew that. He practically lived at the gym when I left.
“Admit what?” My voice cracks under the pressure of his scrutiny.
“Admit why you left. I know you lied, admit why.”
