Page 106 of Have To Be Mine

“But I’m not his type,” I said, hating how weak my voice sounded. “He fell for this version of me that wore dresses and sang and let herself be vulnerable. But that’s not who I really am. You know that. I’m cargo pants and combat boots and hair up. Eventually he’ll realize that and walk away.”

“Stop.” My father’s voice was firm. “This isn’t about dresses or makeup or any of that surface stuff. This is about you being terrified of being seen. Really seen.”

“It’s not fear like that.”

“Yes it is. And I get it. You lost your mother. You know how much it hurts to lose someone you love. Your brain is trying to protect you from ever feeling that pain again.” He squeezed my hand. “But you can’t let your nervous system call the shots here, sweetheart. You have to choose your path and follow it with your chin up.”

I stared at him. He had never been so insightful. So open.

“You’re a very strong woman,” he continued. “And braver. You just have to decide if this man is worth the risk.”

Was he worth the risk? I already knew the answer. I’d known it the moment I’d run through the rain trying to get back to him. I’d known it when I’d watched those lights shooting up into the sky and realized he didn’t need a babysitter—he needed a partner. Someone who believed in him. Someone who would stand beside him through the chaos and the beauty of it all.

“I’m sorry, Dad.” I stood up abruptly. “I have to go.”

“What?”

“I have to cut this visit short. I need to catch a plane back to New York.”

His face broke into the biggest smile I’d seen in years. “That’s my girl. You fight. This is what I’ve taught you to do. You do not quit. Do not give up. When you want something, grab it.”

“I’m sorry. I promise I’ll come back soon and we’ll do this properly.”

“Don’t apologize. Go chase your happiness.” He pulled me into another hug. “And Krista? Keep the dress. Your mother would have loved seeing you in it.”

I kissed his cheek and grabbed my purse, already pulling out my phone to book the earliest flight I could find. My heart was pounding as I rushed out to my rental car.

I was going back to New York. I was going to find Dash and tell him everything I should have said in Santorini. I was absolutely in love with him. I wanted to try, even if I didn’t know how. He was worth the risk.

I knew there was a damn good chance he might not be excited to see me. I had ghosted him. And hello, he was Dash Blackwell. There was a long line of women that would be more than happy to step into the spot I vacated. And that was a fear I would have to learn to get over. It was insulting to him to think he couldn’t keep it in his pants. That was undermining him. He was always trying to prove himself. He shouldn’t have to prove anything to me.

He already had.

35

DASH

Istepped off the private jet onto Greek soil and felt like I was returning home. The air smelled the same. Maybe a bit too warm and humid but still good. The sun hit my face with the same intensity. But everything felt different without her.

The car was waiting on the tarmac, just like I had arranged. I climbed into the backseat and watched Athens unfold through the window as we drove. Every street corner felt like a memory. I’d been an idiot to come back here. But the business opportunity was too good to pass up, and I’d convinced myself it was just a city. Just a country.

Wrong.

The car pulled up to the luxury hotel. I checked in and went straight to my room. The trip was a quick one. I wasn’t here to sight-see. Not yet, but I knew I wanted to come back one day and explore every inch of the city.

I changed into one of my suits, charcoal gray and perfectly tailored, because if nothing else, I knew how to dress myself. It was a Blackwell design from last year’s men’s line. The reflection in the mirror showed someone who looked put together. Professional. Like a man who had his shit together.

The man staring back at me was a liar.

I headed down to the ballroom where the event was already in full swing. This was exactly the kind of event I was trained to handle. Work the room, make connections, charm everyone into thinking I was more than just the Blackwell family fuck-up.

But tonight, I didn’t feel like the fuck-up. For the first time in my life, I was the man of the hour. The guest of honor for something I had done well.

“Dash Blackwell!” A hand clapped my shoulder. I turned and tried to place the face. I knew him. A photographer. Jameson. “I heard about Santorini. That was legendary, man. Absolutely legendary.”

“Thank you. We made the best of the situation.”

“I mean it. That show is still getting talked about. The way you turned a disaster into art? That’s the kind of vision we need in this industry.” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “I’d love to talk about a potential collaboration. I’m always available for one of your campaigns.”