Blue Dahlia (The Dahlia Trilogy of The Gilded Flower Series Book 1) (4 page)

“Sleep well?” Shane asks when Dahlia enters the kitchen.

“Just fine,” she replies coolly, pulling a carton of orange juice out of the refrigerator.

“I bet you did,” he smirks, sipping his coffee. “Sounded like you had a visitor this morning.”

Dahlia blushes but quickly recovers.

“You’re taking me back to SB today, right?” She asks, pouring her juice into a glass.

Shane’s expression turns serious. “If that’s what you want.”

“What I want is a divorce.”

“Does your boyfriend know about me?”

Dahlia looks down, studying the pattern of the dark granite countertop.

“I didn’t think so.”

“Don’t be so holier-than-thou about this Shane. You’ve been with other women as well. I’m sure you’re not talking about your wife while you’re busy screwing them,” she spits out. Dahlia braces herself for another fight.

“But I don’t act as if you didn’t exist.”

“Clearly we have different ways of coping, Shane.”

He shakes his head and steps toward her. She takes a step back. “Don’t.”

“Why, D? Why
him
and not me?”

Tears prick her eyes, and she swallows.

In an even voice she says, “Because the thought of you, even seeing you here, makes me think of
her
. And. I. Can’t. Handle. That.” Dahlia slides down the cabinet to the kitchen floor and cries.

“Oh, D. Please don’t,” Shane says as he lowers himself to the floor. He wraps his arms around her, tears streaming down his face.

They remain on the cold stone floor for what feels like a lifetime to Dahlia. She feels the past flooding out of her as she sobs in his arms. The two years they had together ended abruptly in a hospital when she received the news their baby had died. It was too much for a new mother to bear, especially one as young as she was.

Seeing him after that was more pain than she could tolerate. Her world, as she knew it, was beyond repair. Dahlia would have to start a new life. One that didn’t involve her husband, the father of her dead child.

Finally Shane stands, pulling her up along with him. “I brought you here to show you something,” he says.

He takes her hand and leads her outside through the wide French doors to the side of the house. In front of them lies a two-story white cottage with a Spanish tile roof and blue trim. “This was supposed to be a guest house when I bought the property, but I turned it into an artist’s studio.”

Dahlia follows him inside. Her jaw drops when she takes in the first floor. A few of her landscape photos adorn the walls of the living area. She walks slowly to the first one, gazing at the brilliant sunset she captured over Big Sur.

“You know, someone offered me good money for that photo, but I turned them down,” Shane says proudly.

She heads to the other side of the room and studies a black & white photo she took of him surfing. “From better days.” He smiles.

He glides over to her and looks into her crystal blue eyes, his own conveying a warmth and passion she hasn’t seen since her arrival yesterday. Shane pushes her hair off her face and runs his thumb along her cheek.

“You had tremendous strength, D. Enough for both of us. Your energy and creative power took my breath away. You inspired me.”

“So does that mean I get half?” She says jokingly, trying to push back the emotions that threaten to overwhelm her again.

Shane chuckles. “Now that I think about it.” His smile quickly fades. “But really, D. Ask yourself. Are you happy? Are you doing what you’re passionate about? Because the girl who took these pictures and drew the most beautiful portraits didn’t give a shit about what anyone else thought.”

“I’m still that person,” she says in a low voice. But the tightness in her chest tells her she’s lying. True, she’s had glimpses of that girl, but she hasn’t done anything creative since she left California.

“Does
he
know that part of you? Did he make you come in your sleep?”

Dahlia turns away and heads toward the door. “You don’t have a right to ask about him, Shane.” Opening the door she says, “Let’s leave the past where it belongs. For both our sakes.”

“Wait, D, I’m sorry,” Shane says. He pauses and takes a long exhale before continuing. “I brought you in here to show you these photos, but there’s something else. Just wait.” He runs up the steps. Dahlia crosses her arms, determined to leave today, divorce or not. She’ll explain everything to Rodrigo. He’ll learn to deal with it.

A few minutes later Shane comes back down the stairs holding a small box. “Have a look at these.”

Dahlia tosses the box on her bed and stares at it. She runs through her options in her head. Get on the next flight to Miami out of SFO. Have her family’s plane fly up from Santa Barbara to pick her up. Or wait it out with Shane. The first two are incredibly appealing. She sighs. Still, if she’s going to leave him for the last time, she’ll have to give him the benefit of the doubt.

She lifts the lid off the box and gasps. Inside, she finds series of photographs she took for an online surf magazine she freelanced for. She looks at them critically, noticing how rough her technique was at times. But seeing these brings a smile to her face as she remembers how exciting her life felt at the time. Being behind the lens gave her a kind of anonymity she didn’t have in her life in New York, where she was always on the other end of the lens.

Dahlia takes out a Pentax camera and pulls out a roll of undeveloped film, replacing it with a new one in the case.

Her warm nostalgia begins to fade as she glimpses a picture she didn’t want to see again. Buried beneath the photo essays were the ultrasound pictures of her baby. Her heart sinks as she studies them carefully. She reaches in and pulls out a picture of her with Shane after he placed fifth down in Huntington Beach, taken two days after their wedding. She returns it to the box, her hands shaking as she places the lid on it.

Dahlia takes a few deep breaths and dials Rodrigo.

“Hey, baby,” he answers in a low voice.

“Hey,” she replies, her voice devoid of emotion. Dahlia isn’t sure how much longer she can put herself through the emotional ringer like this.

“I’m going to be in California another few days,” she says quickly before she gets cold feet.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just . . .”

“Look, D, Lily told me. I saw her and Alejandro for dinner last night.”

“She told you about Shane?”

“What? Who’s Shane?” Urgency enters his voice.

“What did Lily tell you?”

“Dahlia, who’s Shane?”

“Tell me, Rodrigo, what did Lily say?”

“Just that you had gone to college in Santa Barbara, and had lost someone close to you. Was it Shane?”

A sudden knock on the door interrupts them, “Hey D, can you talk?”

“Who is that?” Rodrigo asks.

“No one,” she replies.

“Is that Shane?”

Dahlia’s heart begins to race as she feels her life begin to slip through her fingers.

“Yes,” she sighs.

“Who is he?”

“I’d rather tell you in person, Rodrigo.”

“I don’t understand, Dahlia. Why can’t you tell me now?”

“It’s too complicated.”

“I can’t wait, tell me now, D.” The desperation in his tone is clear.

“Please, just . . .” her voice trails off.

“Why do I feel like you’re playing me, Dahlia? The fact that you can’t tell me over the phone means this is a very big deal. And you’re with a man right now. Jesus Christ, D, what are you asking of me?” His voice getting louder.

“Time,” she says, swallowing back her tears. She doesn’t want to cry anymore.

“Then you’ve got it, D. Take whatever time you need,” Rodrigo says. “But if you don’t plan to come to Miami next week, I need to know now.”

Dahlia takes a deep breath, choking back a sob. “I just can’t promise anything right now,” she murmurs.

The sound of him crying breaks her heart. She never wanted to do this to him.

“Is this it, Dahlia?” He asks, his voice echoing his pain.

“No, I don’t want it to be. But I can’t be there for you the way you want me to be right now.” Not until the divorce is final. At least that part is true.

After a long pause, Rodrigo says, “If you’re looking for an out, you’ve got it.”

“But that’s not what I’m asking for.”

“Are you sure? Consider my position. You went to California, something you neglected to mention you were going to do. You’re with a man you’ve also never told me about. Please don’t play me for a fool, D.”

Dahlia sighs. “You’re no fool. I’m the foolish one, Rodrigo. I thought I was strong enough, but maybe I’m not. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah me too,” he says.

A knock on the door wakes Dahlia.

Shane opens it, not waiting for a response. “D? Are you okay?”

Dahlia stares up at the ceiling, willing herself not to look at him. In less than forty-eight hours her entire world has been turned upside down or made right again, depending on how she looked at it.

“You’ve been in here for hours. Can we drive back to SB tomorrow?”

Her eyes flash to the bedside clock. It’s after four in the afternoon. Dahlia rolls over, turning her back to him. Being around Shane has been exhausting. “Whatever,” she replies.

He walks around the bed and crouches down in front of her. “Are you going to continue to wallow in here?”

“Maybe.” She realizes she sounds like a petulant teenager, but it’s exactly how she feels right now. Her innocence was lost with her baby. She had never mourned the loss until now.

“I can tell you it’s a fast road to the bottom, D.”

She closes her eyes, trying to wish the hurt away.

“Look at me, Dahlia.”

But she doesn’t budge.

“I said open your eyes,” he says in a firm voice.

Her eyes flutter open. Shane gently caresses her cheek, and says, “The pain will kill you if you let it. You’ve run away from it too long.”

“Maybe I deserve it. It’s my fault.”

Shane shakes his head, his eyes gazing into hers. “No, it’s not. You can’t let yourself believe that.”

“Easy for you to say,” she says. “I’m the one who carried her for almost nine months.”

“Damn it, D. It’s not. I blamed myself for everything,” Shane’s voice gets louder. “For us failing, for the baby, for everything. Why do you think I went on that downward spiral? I couldn’t live with the pain of knowing I was such a selfish asshole.”

Dahlia sits up and takes a deep breath. “You seem to be doing well now.”

“Eventually, I had to face my mistakes. It isn’t easy. It fuckin’ sucks, actually, but I could either kill myself or do something with my life. Give myself over in some way.”

Dahlia picks at a loose thread on the cream cover.

“Get up,” he says, taking her hand and pulling her off the bed. “You need some exercise.”

Dahlia digs her toes into the wet sand and stares out at the waves. “I can’t believe I’m letting you talk me into this.” She glances down at Shane on his knees, waxing her board.

He smiles up at her. “The offshore is good right now. Waves are cranking. You couldn’t ask for a better set up.”

“But I haven’t . . .”

“No worries. You’ll be fine. I’ll be out there with you.” Shane straps the leash to her ankle and stands.

Dahlia grits her teeth as she duck-dives under a wave. Shane motions to his right. She moves farther out and sits up, wiping the salt water from her eyes.

“It’s cold,” she complains.

“You never seemed to mind before,” he replies.

“Maybe it’s the crap wetsuit I’m wearing,” she smirks.

“Yeah, I’ll talk to my designer about that. You’re the first to bitch about it.”

Shane looks toward the waves. “You got this one?” He asks.

Dahlia nods, “Think so.” She grabs the rail, kicks her legs to turn her board and paddles. Her heart races as she begins to feel the momentum underneath her, muscle memory taking over. She pops up, quickly finding her footing and setting her inside edge to turn across the wave.

A laugh escapes her as a rush of adrenaline takes over. She’s reminded why she loved surfing—it was the best high Dahlia had ever experienced.

She paddles back to join Shane, who watched her every move.

“Told you it would be awesome,” he says.

She nods. “I didn’t think I would remember. But it all came back to me.”

“The best things do, Dahlia. In their own time.”

Dahlia looks away from him, feeling the intensity of his words.

“This one’s mine,” he announces.

Dahlia turns, watching the curl come toward them. She looks up, noticing the sunset for the first time since her arrival in California. Beautiful shades of purple, orange and red coat the sky. She sits on her board, mesmerized by the sinking orange sun.

Shane interrupts her thoughts as he paddles back out to her. “Feeling alright?”

She nods.

He sits up and says, “Being out here, by myself in the water, was healing. It gave me focus after everything went south.”

Dahlia looks down, running her hand along the rail.

He continues. “It still hurts, you know. There’s a void that will always be there. But being out here gives me perspective. Surfing is the perfect metaphor for life. Sometimes you get bad breaks, but the good ones are worth coming back for every day. You just have to learn to ride it out.”

Dahlia lifts her head and stares at Shane. “That’s incredibly corny, you know.”

He splashes water at her and laughs. “Yeah, but it’s true.”