This Spells Love(66)
Dax shakes his head. “Name doesn’t ring a bell, but maybe I just don’t remember her.”
“Oh, you would remember her, trust me. Anyway, she came by to visit my store today, and she owns a bunch of spa locations. And she wants to talk to me about leasing some space to Wilde Beauty. As in me, putting a bunch of Wildes into her spas. Isn’t that amazing?”
Dax’s muscles pull taut. A quick stiffening, lasting no longer than a pulse. Something I would have missed if I hadn’t been momentarily distracted by his gray henley and the way it hugs his chest so perfectly.
“Yes. Amazing. Sounds like a great opportunity.” He opens his arms and pulls me into his chest for a classic Daxon McGuire bear hug. It’s exactly the right reaction, and yet it feels off.
“Are you okay?” I ask, pulling back.
His brow crinkles, and I swear it’s even deeper than it was when I first came in. “Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be okay?” He leans down and places a tender kiss on my forehead. “It’s great news. I’m pumped for you.”
His voice is back to normal, and the little crinkle smooths out. It makes me wonder if maybe I imagined the angst. Invented drama where it doesn’t exist because I’m still not used to our new relationship dynamics.
“So tomorrow,” I continue. “Come play hooky with me. We can take the train to Toronto. Visit the spa. Do lunch. Maybe even shop a little. We can make a whole day of it.”
The stiffening thing happens again. I’m definitely not imagining it this time.
“I don’t think I can, Gemma. I need to be here.”
He doesn’t offer any further explanation, and although he’s perfectly within his rights to turn me down, it bothers me more than it should.
My Dax would have dropped everything without a second thought. His next question would have been, What time do we leave? He immediately would have fought me on where we were going to eat lunch and reminded me not to wear my pinchy shoes that look cute but always end up killing my feet by noon.
“Please, Dax.” My voice comes out slightly whinier than I intended. “This is a huge deal. I need moral support. The opportunity could be life-changing, and Priya kind of scares the shit out of me. I need you.”
He releases me and steps away. His hands take another stressed-out run through his hair. “I don’t think I can make it work. Trust me when I say I wish I could. But I’m sure you’ll be amazing.”
I don’t get it. My Dax ditches work all the time for shit that’s way less of a deal than this. He once closed up shop four hours early to stand with me in the rain outside FirstOntario Centre to buy scalped Taylor Swift tickets because I promised him a slab of day-old Roma pizza left over from my lunch.
“Come on, Dax, it’s just one day. If you can’t get someone to cover, can you close up shop? I’m sure your customers will understand.”
“No, I can’t.” His voice snaps. “And I really hate to do this, but I need to run. I’ve got a couple of appointments tonight, and I can’t be late.”
He takes me by the hand and leads me to the front door. He’s gentle, but there’s a very clear Gemma, get out tone to his actions.
I’m not going to beg him to stay or offer to accompany him to whatever appointment he has after six on a Monday. It’s clear I’ve crossed some line or pressed an invisible button that I shouldn’t have.
“I’ll text you later, okay?” His tone softens a little. I get a brief hand squeeze before he opens the door and waits for me to exit.
I make my way back out to the street, noting the sound of the metal lock flipping behind me.
Standing on the sidewalk in the twilight, I’m not sure if I should feel pissed at Dax for ousting me so abruptly or be asking his forgiveness for a relationship crime I’ve somehow unknowingly committed.
Confused, I walk home to Catherine Street, to my basement, with my bed and my spider and all my messy feelings. It’s probably for the best that I’m in for an early night anyway. I need to prep for my meeting with Priya.
Even though I’ve technically only been running Wilde Beauty for a few weeks, I do know a lot about the retail industry thanks to four long, soul-sucking years at Eaton’s Drug Mart. However, with Wilde, everything is different. First off, it’s mine, and I say that with the possessive confidence of a regency duke claiming his virginal soon-to-be bride.
Four times the number of Wildes would mean four times the profit and, therefore, four times the number of cute shoes in my closet.
On the other hand, it will be significantly more staff to manage, which means an exponential number of ways everything can go wrong. My brain ignores all the positives and instead imagines every possible scenario where things could go sideways. Fire, flood, famine. A bad review that goes viral. I start to spiral down into a deep, dark hole of this is a bad idea, even though I know in my gut that it’s a great one.
It’s the part where I normally call Dax. The part where he tells me to get out of my head and reassures me by reminding me of all the fabulous things I’ve done in my life. He holds my metaphorical hand until I calm the fuck down and can see straight again. I need his opinions. My itchy fingers reach for my phone. Just one little text to ask him if he thinks I’m making a mistake. If I’m steering the SS Gemma in the right direction.