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Smiling now, relaxing into the experience of being here with Kace for the first time all morning, I grab my phone and purse and hurry toward the door opposite the bed that I believe to be the bathroom. Sure enough, I find a room of white tiles swirled with light grays, a giant claw foot tub, and framed by an arched window, with a stunning river view. One I can’t admire at present for good reason. I shut the door and drop the blanket, rushing to the separate stall to pee. Once I’ve washed up, I spy a thin navy robe hanging on the back of the door, and waste no time sliding it around me, only to have my hands swallowed. I try to roll the sleeves up but it’s a struggle I barely manage.
Once I can at least mostly find my hands, I head to the double sinks and open the middle drawer. Inside, I find about a dozen unopened toothbrushes that I assume to be for his travels. I think of his talk of retiring from the concert circuit and I believe Kace really is done. I could feel that in him last night and I really can’t blame him.
I grab a tube of toothpaste from the drawer and quickly brush my teeth. Opening another drawer, I find face soap and scrub off the mess of my makeup. When I’m done, I stare at the section of the counter Kace obviously puts to the most use and the leather organizer filled with his products. There is one cologne called Juniper Sling by Penhaligon, which I apparently love because the man always smells delicious. Other than that, there’s a comb, a brush, and a razor. That is all. Everything in his home is neat and clean, simplistic even. I can’t really say that about my bathroom, so I’m pretty sure I’ve already discovered that we’d never make it as a couple because I’d drive him nuts. Not that we’re going to be a couple. He’s working me out of his system. And me him, as well. That’s all this is. I think. Isn’t it?
There’s a knock on the door. “Aria? You okay in there?”
I smile all over again and open the door to find him, as I have two times before now, standing right in front of me, his hand on the doorjamb above his head. “Why is it that when I shut a door, you always knock?”
He folds me to him. “Maybe I just like you better on my side of the door but,” he adds, “I can’t decide if I like you better with my robe on or off. Off wins, as long as you’re naked.” He kisses my hand and then steps to my side to show me a collection of a dozen bags sitting by the bed.
“My God, Kace,” I whisper. “What have you done?”
“I threw this trip on you, so I made sure you have anything and everything you could need.”
A memory of my father leading my mother into a room filled with gifts for her birthday flickers in my mind. He’d loved her. He’d spoiled her. But she hadn’t needed the gifts. She’d just needed him. He knew that, too.
I turn to Kace. “Let me just shower here and I swear to you, Kace, I can run to my apartment and be packed in five minutes. I can wear my dress from last night, and change on the plane.”
“It won’t be ready until Monday and your five minutes to pack will be an hour we don’t have in traffic. If my agent didn’t have a big studio meeting he was flying out to tonight, we wouldn’t have a time crush, but we do.”
“Soon is not Monday Kace.”
He catches my arms and steps into me. “In my defense, I promise you, that they told me later today, but they called and told me a machine went down.”
“Wonderful.”
“I can be. I want you to enjoy everything that’s in those bags. And we can exchange anything that you don’t like or doesn’t fit. I want you to love it all.”
I glance at the bags, one of which reads Gucci and the other, Chanel. “There’s a lot of money in those bags, Kace.”
He waves that off. “I’m not worried about the money.”
“I am.” Embarrassment begins to burn in my belly. He saw the Goodwill label. I know he did. “You saw the tag on my dress, didn’t you?”
“I want to do this for you.”
In other words, he did. “I know you saw the label on my dress. I don’t need or want your charity.”
His mood spikes in the air and he cups my face. “That’s what you think this is?”
My hand flattens on his chest. “I don’t spend a lot of money on myself. I don’t need you to do it either. I’m here for you, not your money. And why would you even want me here, if you thought it was the money? I need my dress back.”
