Time with Mr. Silver: Chapter 39
Time with Mr. Silver: A forced proximity steamy romance (The Men Series – Interconnected Standalone Romances Book 7)
THE BALLOONS KEEP COMING.
He could have gotten bored by now.
Ninety days.
Ninety days. Some days blue. Some days white. Every day a sunrise photograph.
But still not a word spoken.
âThis is ridiculous,â I mutter, parting the silver ribbons with my arms like Iâm swimming so that I can get to my bedroom door.
Ridiculous, yet Iâve kept every single one. Iâve not tied them into bundles or cut their ribbons shorter. Iâve left them like a sky above me. Just like he planned. Because a pathetic part of meâmy heartâwonât let me do anything else with them. Not when looking at them tells me heâs thinking about me too.
Because I still think about him.
All. The. Time.
I canât escape it. It hasnât gotten less frequent with each passing day. In fact, Iâd say itâs gotten worse. When I first came home, emotional exhaustion from all that happened, combined with jet lag, meant that I slept, albeit at odd times. But now, just getting to sleep at all is a struggle. Memories of him, of us, play on a never-ending loop in my head.
Bonfires, sunrises, tattoos, smiles, laughs⦠kisses⦠deep brown eyesâ¦
Dax Silver has fucked up my head so much it no longer feels like my own.
And it just confirms to me that I was never in love with Gareth all those years ago. Because all I felt after we broke up was hurt and humiliation. But since being parted from Dax, I also feel an indescribable loss. Loss for what could have been. And I know that he could do anything, literally anything to me, however awful, and a part of me would still feel like it has died without him. A part of me would still want to forgive him and be with him.
Because everything makes more sense with him around.
I feel like me; the me Iâm supposed to be.
But heâs not here asking for forgiveness. So Iâll never know which part of me would win. That part, or the part that curses his name every time another balloon arrives.
âRose?â Harley calls as she walks up the stairs toward me. Sheâs come to meet me so we can go to Manhattan today for another wedding dress fitting.
âHey.â My stomach sinks as she appears, holding another brown box.
âOh, wow.â She looks behind me into my room. âTheyâve taken over.â
I shrug. Sheâs right. The ceiling of my bedroom is no longer visible.
I take the box from her to leave on my bed until later, but the sound of something scraping around inside it takes me by surprise.
âI know. I noticed it making that noise. What do you think is in it?â Harley looks at the box as I put it down on the floor.
âI donât know,â I mumble, grabbing some scissors. âMaybe some firewood for me to start a bonfire with and burn all the photographs heâs sent me.â
âRose!â Harleyâs eyes pop wide. Sheâs such a romantic. If I wasnât joking, then I know she would save every photo and refuse to let me have them. She still likes Dax, I can tell. She still hopes things will work out. But any hope I had has slipped further away with each day.
I remove the lid of the box and a balloon floats out like usual. But this time it stops a little outside the box, weighted down by the photograph, and a key tied to the ribbon.
âItâs silver,â Harley gasps, looking at the balloon.
I snap my eyes away from the key and to the balloon as Harley pokes it with a finger. The whole thing shimmers, and I squint my eyes to study it.
Itâs full of silver glitter.
âWhyâs it different?â
âI donât know.â I look at Harley and then at the photograph of another sunrise.
Sunrise number ninety without you. Iâve watched them all. And soon Iâll have watched more pass by without you than I spent with you. I want to explain. I want you to understand why I wasnât honest with you about New York. Itâs time you knew everything⦠because Iâve been missing you. Every day. Every minute. Every second. For infinity. You are everything to me, Sunbeam.
A vibration rips through me, causing my fingers to shake. I drop the photograph back into the box and thereâs a dull thud as the key hits the cardboard base.
Sunbeam.
Itâs the first time heâs called me it since I left.
âItâs got a tag,â Harley says as she fishes the key out of the box and detaches it from the ribbon. The balloon flies up to the ceiling without the added weight and nestles itself between two white ones.
A silver lining in a cloud.
He sent me a silver lining.
âYou bastard,â I whisper, my eyes glued to the glittering silver contents of the balloon. âYou complicated, selfish⦠beautiful bastard.â
âYou okay?â Harley wraps an arm around my shoulders, and instead of tensing, I sink into her and squeeze my eyes shut. But even the backs of my eyelids are shimmering like fucking silver particles.
Why is he doing this? Itâs been three months. And now heâs decided itâs convenient for him to finally tell me the truth? Send some cryptic message and a key like this is a treasure hunt and not my life.
Not my actual life. And my actual heart. And my actual feelings.
âWe can go there. Iâll come with you.â
I open my eyes and look into Harleyâs kind ones. Sheâs holding up the key and note. Itâs the name of a bank with a safety deposit box number on it.
âSure,â I sniff, straightening my shoulders. âItâs near the dress fitting place, isnât it?â I look at the bankâs address on the note. âWe can go after your appointment if we have time.â
I donât care if we canât fit it in. Heâs made me wait this long. Iâm not going to trip over myself to do as he wants. Iâm not going to act like I care. Like him pushing me away isnât the worst thing anyone has ever done to me.
I wipe underneath my stinging eyes, even though my cheeks are dry, and take in a ragged breath.
Harleyâs arm tightens subtly around me. âYou know, I think we have time before the appointment, if thatâs okay with you? Itâll actually help me out. I needed to go there anyway.â
âYou donât use that bank.â
I know this because Iâve seen all the forms at Harley and Reedâs house that she has ready to complete with her new married name to get their accounts changed.
âWeâre thinking of moving some money around. Itâs one of the ones I wanted to look into,â she insists, unable to meet my eyes as she pretends. She just wants me to go there. To see what Dax is up to.
âFine, thanks.â Sourness creeps over my tongue. I would have happily stalled going there. Avoided it for as long as possible.
Because I know that silver balloon is the last.
Dax isnât sending any more.
He taught me how to forgive myself. But I donât know if he taught me how to forgive him for what heâs done.
Once I find out the truth thereâs no going back in time.
The bank is busy. We have to wait to be directed to the correct person who has access to the private safety deposit boxes. With each passing minute, the back of my neck grows hotter, and the likelihood of me throwing up all over the shiny tiled floor increases tenfold.
But once the serious looking bank clerk arrives and leads us to a private viewing room, Iâm focused. I can just look in the box. See Daxâs excuse and leave.
And thatâs it. I donât have to do anything else. I donât have to process whatâs in that box today. I can store it away until Iâm ready.
I can hold myself together.
We take a seat at the long table and wait. The clerk returns with a long silver box, and I snort internally.
It would be silver.
âYou have the other key,â he says as he uses his key to open one of the two locks on the front of the long box. âSo whenever you are ready, you can open the box. Thereâs a bell on the wall.â He points to a button by the door. âYou can call once you are finished. Please, take all the time you need.â
âThank you.â Harley smiles brightly at him.
âThank you,â I say, my eyes trained on the box.
He closes the door behind him as he leaves, and we sit in silence as I continue to stare at the box.
Harley places her hand over my trembling one. âDo you need me to?â
âNo, no. Iâve got it.â
It takes me three attempts to get the key inside the lock. But with a deep breath, I manage to slide it in and turn it.
The contents are ordinary. I half expected a balloon to float out. But itâs just a couple of envelopes and a memory stick.
I take the first envelope out and open it. Itâs copies of accounts for Julianâs business, some photographs of him looking shady with some other guys, and lots of different shipping container details and codes.
The deepening of my scowl makes my jaw ache.
Ninety days⦠for this?
I know Julian was running his own illegal drugs import business. The police knew. Alistair knew. None of this is news to anyone. Itâs evidence that the police must have themselves.
I open the other envelope and slide the contents out onto the table. Harley gasps as she sees a piece of paper with my face on. Itâs dark and Iâm looking over my shoulder by the main gates of the estate. A cold dread sends goosebumps scattering up my spine as the hairs on the back of my arms stand up.
Itâs the night I got separated from Jasmin and Logan when the estate had a workâs night out. The night Dax stormed down to let me in and made me promise never to be out alone at night again.
I thought he was overreacting.
The back of my neck burns as I lift the paper and read the accompanying text. The photo is part of an email chain thatâs been printed out with instructions to find out âwho the girl isâ.
Julian was watching me all that time.
There are more photos. Me out in town, drinking in the bar alone after finding out about Casey. They must have been taken before Dax arrived. Thereâs even a grainy image of me having a lap dance at the club, while Dax watches me.
There is image after image. All of me.
And beneath them all, a passport.
âDawn East?â Harleyâs brow wrinkles in confusion as she holds it open.
Itâs my picture.
âDawn for the sunrise, rising in the east,â I murmur as I frown at the name. âHe got me a fake passport.â
âAnd an escape plan by the looks of it.â Harley holds up a card of a private plane company with a name of who to ask for should I call it.
âI donât understand.â Dizziness makes my head swirl.
âThereâs so much evidence here,â Harley says as she sifts through the documents. âItâs like he was building up an insurance policy in case the policeâs investigation didnât work.â
I snort. âSounds about right. Dax didnât trust the police. Not since Julian pulled strings at the trial and got him sentenced more harshly. And then someone was paid to stab him in jail.â
She continues reading. âAnd the documents for you. He thought you were in danger. Oh, God, Rose.â She drops the paper on the table and covers her mouth with her hands. âDo you think you still could be? But Julian is in jail. So itâs over, right?â
My heart stalls. âNo⦠Iâm definitely not.â I take a deep breath. âHis note wasnât a warning. The only reason he would have me come here and see all this, if it wasnât because he thought I needed to use it, is if he knows the threat has gone. That has to be it. Itâs been months. He wouldnât have waited all this time to show me this otherwise. Heâs trying to explain. But it still makes no sense.â
âWhat shall we do with it?â Harley lifts another piece of paper and scans the details of the overseas bank account thatâs been set up in the name Dawn East. The amount deposited in it makes my eyes water.
âWe put it back in and we walk out of here,â I say, my voice coming out calmer than I expect. âI donât need it. Iâm not going anywhere. And the only one who can explain what it all really means is Dax.â
âYouâre sure?â
I gather up the contents of the box and place it all back inside, closing the passport and placing it on the top.
âIâm sure. When I last spoke to Jasmin, she said Julian wasnât getting bail. Heâs miles away, back in England. Just like Dax. Iâll call Jasmin when we get outside. But itâs fine.â I take another deep breath as I lock the box and then press the bell on the wall. âItâs fine.â