Plot Twist(20)

“You have a lot of stuff,” Dash noted.

She frowned. Did she? Yes, she’d brought a bag for snacks, a purse with her phone (plus credit cards, gloss, sunscreen, and toner), and a backpack with her laptop, notebook, pens, and planner—but those were just the essentials.

“Well, I had to bring snacks.” She unzipped the snack bag and opened it wide for Dash to see.

He peered in and pulled one from the top. “Air-dried pineapple?”

“So good,” she said. Just the thought of those crispy little wedges made her lips twitch. She wiped at the corner of her mouth, searching for any rogue drool.

He pulled out another option. “Cauliflower cheddar puffs?” He took off his sunglasses completely. “Sophie, did Poppy do this to you? Her gluten-free, sometimes-raw ways have robbed you of all your taste buds.”

She jutted out her hip and placed a defiant fist on it. “Why, what would you rather have?”

“Snacks—proper, made-of-chemicals, probably-will-take-years-off-your-life snacks.” He leaned into his car, popped open the glove box, and pulled out a bag of sour gummy worms. He ripped the plastic open and deftly popped one in his mouth. He moaned as he chewed.

Then, as if remembering she was there, he broke the lustful, sugar-induced moment and held the bag out to her.

“I’m not really a sour person,” she said. Though, she had to admit it was kind of cute to see him so excited about neon-colored candy.

“Suit yourself.” He grabbed a handful of gummies and popped two into his mouth.

Feeling the need to prove how great her own snacks were, she tore open a bag of dried chickpeas and ate a handful. Then she tucked the snack, her purse, and backpack on the floor where her feet would be. She sat in the passenger seat and buckled herself in. He slid the sunglasses back onto his face as he walked around to the driver’s-side door. Dash started the engine, and it purred through her entire body. He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, and she watched his bicep flex underneath his shirt. Not that she was staring or anything.

They pulled out of the driveway. The caffeine from the matcha was starting to kick in and caused her leg to bounce in the seat as she asked, “Can you tell me about your dad? I know what Poppy’s idea of him is, but what comes to mind when you think of him?”

Dash’s hand moved on the steering wheel, rubbing the leather against his palm. “I’m not really used to talking about him.” There was an edge to his voice she couldn’t quite place.

She’d need Dash to feel comfortable if she was going to help him with the speech, so she offered, “I’m not used to talking about my dad either. He wasn’t in the picture. All I know is he moved to Florida when I was a baby and apparently started a new life and family there. The only time I ever heard from him was when Nina got on a cooking show and he magically popped up, suddenly wanting to be in our lives. But neither of us were interested in getting to know him, especially considering the timing.”

Then she stopped talking and waited to see if Dash would respond. Or, if she’d once again just been word-vomiting, as she often did. But then, to her delight, he spoke.

“To be honest, my dad wasn’t really around either.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She’d heard as much from Poppy. “He’s kind of this larger-than-life person because, in a lot of ways, he feels more like a movie star than my dad. I’ve seen him talk more on-screen than to me directly.”

She wanted to reach over and grab his hand, but she didn’t. Sophie worked hard to keep her face neutral. She didn’t want to make Dash feel bad, and she didn’t judge him. She took in a deep breath and leaned back against the comfort of the chair. “I know it’s not the same thing, but I was raised by a single mom. She worked nonstop to make sure we had everything we needed. My sister was really the one who raised me. And I adored my mom—we spent a lot more time together once Nina could help her financially—but I do understand what it’s like to miss your parent. Especially now that mine’s gone.”

Sophie’s mom had passed away almost a decade ago, and while she’d grieved, she would never really recover from losing her.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” he said. And to her surprise, he reached over and squeezed her hand.

“Thank you” was all she could think to say. Her hand practically burned from the spot where he’d touched her.

“The thing about my dad is,” he said, “I didn’t know him. So I didn’t know what I was missing, really.”

A little corner of her heart broke off for Dash. Because she hadn’t known her dad at all either, but Sophie had had her mom. And as much as her mom had worked, she’d still tucked them in every night. She read them books, and when Sophie was old enough, they read romance novels together. And Sundays were their family time. She’d never been in Dash’s shoes, but when she looked over, he didn’t seem fazed.

“What was your relationship with your mom like?” he asked.

“My mom was the absolute biggest cheerleader I’ve ever had, and the first person who told me I could be a writer.” Sophie softly smiled, the way she always did when she thought of her mom. “She encouraged us to do what we loved, which is why not being able to write is kind of killing me.”

Dash let her words sit before he added more. “Don’t get me wrong, I had a really charmed childhood—going to sets, awards shows, meeting every celebrity you can think of. My life wasn’t bad,” he said. “But it’s hard for me to talk about my dad because he just...wasn’t there for me.”