Dylan
My heart raced as I entered the lounge at Heathrow. Desperate to see Beth, I’d checked in a little early.
After phone sex on Tuesday, I’d arranged a last minute trip to London, flying out on Wednesday and back to Chicago on Thursday morning—on the same flight as Beth. The deal with Redux was dragging. Raf had been due to fly out next week, but I offered to go earlier. I kept telling myself it made good business sense.
I wanted to surprise her in the lounge. It would be like the first time we met. Maybe I’d have her in the showers again, like the second time we saw each other.
I scanned the lounge, looking for her unmistakable red lips but didn’t see her. I found a seat toward the edge of the lounge, hidden behind a magazine stand that still gave me a view of the whole room so I could see when she arrived.
I went over to the wet bar, got myself a soda water and returned to my table, pulling out my phone and my laptop. I hadn’t spoken to her since Tuesday night, but we’d had a few texts where she told me what she was baking and I told her that I wanted her naked. She would have said if she’d changed her plans, I was certain of it.
I started to scroll through my emails when I thought I heard her laugh. I glanced up, sporting a grin of my own. I saw the back of her head as she walked through the door, talking to someone on the way in. She looked beautiful, carefree and relaxed in the way that she was in the YouTube clips I’d seen. My eyes slid to her tiny waist, then back up, urging her to turn around and see me. She paused for a second, then threw her hands up in the air and laughed. My gaze followed hers and saw she was talking to a fellow traveler. They continued to chat animatedly as they approached the wet bar. Was he a colleague? A friend? My jaw clenched. I didn’t like her spending time with men who weren’t me.
My heart stopped as he slung his arm around her shoulder and she leaned into him.
The air around me froze. She was a cheat?
I shifted my chair farther toward the magazine rack. Jesus, I felt like a fucking asshole for following her to London just to have a few more hours with her.
I hadn’t thought this through, and that wasn’t like me. What was I doing flying three thousand miles for a few hours on a plane with a woman? Beth was great sex, but I didn’t do relationships. After Alicia, I hadn’t wanted anything more than sex. I’d certainly never gotten the urge to fly across an ocean for a woman. What the fuck was happening to me?
What an idiot. I didn’t embarrass easily, but this was mortifying. I’d clearly thought there was something more between us than she did. I’d have to try to dodge her, and if she saw me, I’d pretend I’d forgotten this was her flight.
Yeah, right, that would be convincing.
I couldn’t tear myself away from staring. The easy intimacy between them made me envious. I wanted to be the guy she linked arms with.
Fuck.
I ran through the possible explanations in my head. Perhaps she’d just met him, fallen crazy in love and planned to give me the brush off before we were due to meet? Perhaps they were just convivial exes? Nothing made sense. Why would she have agreed to meet me tonight if she was fucking someone else? I suppose it shouldn’t matter. I never required monogamy from any of the women I fucked, but from her, it hurt.
Fuck, what was the matter with me? I was really good at things I set my mind to, and I’d been really good about sleeping with women without allowing it to ever be more than physical. How, in such a short space of time, had I allowed Beth to create this twisted sensation in my gut?
I logged off my laptop and packed up my carry-on. I needed to get the fuck out of the lounge. I checked the time. We were probably twenty minutes away from boarding.
Surreptitiously, I glanced over at the wet bar. Beth and her man weren’t there. My gaze skirted the rest of the lounge and found them at a table, laughing, Beth eating cake. My gut churned. Part of me wanted to stay and watch as she took a forkful of whatever it was into her mouth, but I wasn’t about to make a bigger fool of myself than I already had.
I slipped out of my seat and headed for the exit.
I made my way to the gate without noticing what was going on around me. I just wanted to be back in Chicago where I could pretend I’d never made this fucking trip.
I arrived at the gate, and after I flashed a smile, they allowed me to board early. My seat was 2A, right at the front of the plane. There was little chance Beth would wander past me. I might make it to the end of the flight without her knowing I was ever here, following her like some kind of pathetic stalker.
I unpacked what I needed from my carry-on, stowed my bag, and gave my jacket to the flight attendant.
I went to set my phone to flight mode when I saw an unopened text.
Beth: Just about to board. See you soon.
My body betrayed me as my heart expanded at her words. I had to remember she was texting me while she stood next to some other guy. Perhaps he’d gone to use the restroom and she’d used her time to juggle the rest of us. Perhaps I was one of several who’d just received a text. I shook my head and turned off my phone. I didn’t want any fucking reminders of what an idiot I’d been.
I opened my laptop and did what I did best—work. I had the rest of the strategic reports to wade through, and they would be a good distraction. I wasn’t going to let Beth-fucking-Harrison take up any more space in my head.
Two hours into the flight, I’d managed to avoid any run-ins with Beth, but going to the restroom was going to be risky. When I’d flown with Beth before she’d passed out cold for most of the flight. Hoping that was her MO, and not due to spending the night having world-shifting sex, I unclicked my seatbelt and moved to the restroom as quickly as I could.
Luckily, I didn’t have to wait and I quickly locked the door behind me, my heart thumping through my chest. I just needed to get through the fucking flight without bumping into her and I could get on with my life as if I’d never met her.
When I unlocked the door, I took a deep breath and headed back to my chair. I made the mistake of briefly turning my head to my right, and there she was. Her seat was tilted back, and her eyes were closed, her black-as-coal hair framing her beautiful face. Even in her sleep, her beautiful red lips pouted.
I forced myself to look away, and I locked eyes with her man. I rarely got the urge to get violent, but I could have landed my fist to his face at that moment. He stared at me as if he wanted to return the favor. Thank God this agony would soon be over.
I went back to my seat and buried myself in my work.
By the time we landed, I’d decided that hanging back until the rest of the cabin had left the plane was my best chance of avoiding Beth. I didn’t want to risk her man pointing me out as the guy who’d been ogling her earlier.
The cabin emptied as I made my way off the plane. I didn’t dare look anywhere but straight ahead as I walked toward immigration.
I tried to ignore it, the first time I heard her call my name. I tried to convince myself I was imagining it. But of course I wasn’t, and in seconds there was a tug on my arm.
“Dylan. It is you. What are you doing here?”
I didn’t stop walking. Didn’t look at her. “I had some unexpected business in London.”
She was having to jog to keep up with me. “Did you know we were just on the same plane?”
I allowed myself a look. I longed to brush my thumb over that beauty spot on her cheek. My stomach tumbled. If only she wasn’t so goddamn beautiful.
“Stop a second.” She pulled me to the side of the throng of people making their way down the long corridor. I breathed in her sweet smell, unable to resist her. “Hey. It’s good to see you.” Her eyes narrowed as though she wanted to ask me a question. I knew how she felt.
I glanced around to see if the guy she was with was around, and found him emerging from the restroom. I looked back at her. “I have to go.” I twisted my arm, setting me free, and I turned and continued up the corridor.
My heart thundered and even though I was in an airport surrounded by noise and activity, I couldn’t see anything but her lips and her questioning eyes. How had I let her get under my skin? I’d told myself I’d never let that happen again. Beth wasn’t Alicia, and I hadn’t let my feelings for Beth get too far. It was a good reminder why I had the boundaries I did.
I didn’t do feelings.
I didn’t do vulnerable.
And I no longer did Beth Harrison.
Beth
I was grateful Jake had arranged for a car to pick us up from the airport; I wasn’t sure I could stand in line without my legs collapsing from under me. I’d watched, baffled, as Dylan disappeared into the crowd. He’d seemed cold and angry. Had something happened at work? Had business in London gone badly?
The gnawing in my stomach after my encounter with Dylan was a reminder of why I hadn’t dated. It felt like a mixture of guilt and shame with a hefty smattering of disappointment. I was used to him grinning at me, unable to keep his hands to himself. It was a shock to have him be so unfamiliar.
“You get in and I’ll deal with the bags,” Jake said. My brother was the last person I could talk to about Dylan’s weird demeanor. I was pretty sure that although he wanted me to date, if any man ever put a foot wrong, best-case scenario Jake would tell me to move on. Worst-case, he’d kill the guy. How was I going to explain that we weren’t even dating—we were just having casual sex? That was never going to go down well with my brother.
I hadn’t expected to hear from Dylan before my trip back to Chicago, but we’d texted a lot—almost every day. He’d even called me, although I was pretty sure that was because he’d wanted me to get him off. I suppose it was kind of a compliment. I doubt he had problems finding willing volunteers for that particular job.
I’d found myself looking forward to hearing from him, to sharing parts of my day. He was meant to be an easy one-night stand, but things had begun to grow between us. But seeing him a few minutes ago—it had been as if we were strangers, as if he felt nothing. He must have known we’d be on the same flight, but he’d clearly made no effort to find me, and when I’d bumped into him, he’d acted as if he wanted to be anywhere but talking to me. I didn’t get it.
“You okay?” Jake joined me in the back of the town car.
“Yeah. Men are such odd creatures.”
Jake chuckled. “Any particular thing sparked this thinking?”
I shrugged. “I’m just tired, I guess.” I held my phone in my hands, willing Dylan to text and everything to be as it had been.
Why should I have to wait for him? I shouldn’t question and ruminate; I shouldn’t assume I was the problem. I didn’t want to feel wronged, like a victim. If he was mad then he’d have to tell me. I wasn’t going to assume. I typed out a text.
Beth: It was good to see you earlier. Looking forward to tonight.
I’d been looking forward to seeing him but the butterflies in my stomach had been replaced with molasses. I wasn’t ready for my one-night stand with Dylan to be over.
I walked out into the crisp Chicago air, my hair taking off in the wind as if gravity had deserted us. It was official. I had a TV show. Or a bit of one at least. Though, I probably shouldn’t have signed the contract with WCIL TV without an agent. Or a lawyer, or both, but I had. It felt right to take the risk.
I’d gone straight from the studio to an AA meeting a few blocks from the hotel. Meetings always grounded me, and I’d needed it after signing on to do six Saturday morning slots on A Chicago Saturday. They’d agreed I could film them all in advance so I didn’t have to fly over each week. I couldn’t have been more delighted. The experience would be fun and, more than that, it felt as if I were cashing a paycheck for the nearly four years I’d spent baking my way to sobriety. Almost as if the universe were patting me on the back and rewarding me for a job well done.
I checked my phone. Still no response from Dylan. I turned right onto Wabash and a gust of wind almost toppled me over. I’d forgotten how unrelenting Chicago’s weather could be.
As I entered the bright, high-ceilinged lobby of the hotel, I squinted to see if I could spot Dylan at the bar, waiting for me like he had been before, but there was no sign of him.
Perhaps I should just take the hint. My meeting had talked about how we couldn’t control the behavior of others, only our reaction to it. It could have been a sign to accept that Dylan was done with me and I’d never know why. That we were only ever meant to be the casual thing it started off as. Perhaps I’d assumed a little too much, and missed the signs that he wasn’t interested. But why had he kept in daily contact with me while I was in London if he didn’t want anything to do with me? I could bring myself to believe that he’d not realized we were on the same flight, but his reaction to seeing me said there was more going on in his head than he’d let on.
The churning inside my entire body was the reason why people shouldn’t date in their first year of sobriety. Alcohol would soothe the ambiguity and uncertainty. Alcohol was something I could count on. I knew exactly what it did to me—it blocked everything out and made the bad things better. Three years sober, I no longer had the constant urge to drink, but at the same time, I was thankful that I’d years of preparation for this moment. I had other ways to cope. Any earlier in my sobriety and I wouldn’t have been so sure.
I checked in, and headed toward the elevators, except, I passed them and kept walking, toward the bar. I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t here.
“Can I help you, miss?” The bartender smiled at me.
Half-heartedly, I smiled back. “No.” Should I ask him if he’d seen a man on his own who seemed to be waiting for someone? No. I didn’t want to come across as a total crazy person. “Actually, can I get some cake sent up to my room?” I wanted chocolate mousse, but couldn’t bring myself to order it. “Perhaps a strawberry shortcake? Room 1204.”
“Certainly.”
“And maybe a selection of macaroons?”
He nodded and I turned back to the elevators.
As I rode up to the twelfth floor, I checked my phone again. Still nothing. I was pretty sure I’d been dumped.
As I entered my room, an image of being pushed against the glass the last time I’d been here flashed into my head. Jesus, that man knew how to fuck, or he knew how to fuck me. I’d never experienced anything like it.
My stomach flip-flopped at the knock on the door. Was he here? I raced to the door, and flung it open, a huge grin on my face.
It was the cake. I’d never been so disappointed at being given sugar.
I let the waiter in, and he set the tray on the table and I signed his notepad and tipped him. I was being crazy. Why wasn’t Dylan here?
I grabbed my phone.
Beth: I’m back at the hotel. I have cake. I’m hoping you’ll join me?
I’d not even set my cell down when it buzzed.
Dylan: I’m sure you have others who can help you with the cake. You should have told me you were with someone. I don’t like cheaters.
What the hell did that mean? Anxiety gripped at my throat. Who did he think I was?
Beth: Who have I cheated on?
I collapsed into a chair to read his reply.
Dylan: The poor chump on the plane. Get him to eat your cake.
I rolled my eyes as things started to click. He thought I was with my brother. He’d asked me to trust him on more than one occasion, but wasn’t affording me the same courtesy.
Beth: First, ewwww. Second, if you’d stuck around I could have introduced you to my BROTHER, who is not a chump, btw. You, on the other hand, are an ass.
Silence.
Perhaps he didn’t believe me. Perhaps he thought I was making it up.
Could he have really thought I was with Jake? Was that really the reason he was pissed off, or had it been a convenient get-out-of-jail-free clause?
Thank God I’d ordered cake. I reached behind me and grabbed a couple of pink rosewater macaroons from the tray. Self-medicating with sugar was almost as good as drinking.
I sighed and closed my eyes. I’d really been looking forward to seeing Dylan, but now everything had become more complicated than it was supposed to be. Perhaps I should get out now while I was only a little disappointed.
My phone buzzed. I took a deep breath as I opened the message.
Dylan: You’re right. I’m an ass. I’d really like to see you. Can I come over?
It would be better if I said no, easier. If I flew home without seeing him, life would be simpler. The hard shell surrounding my heart survived my disappointment today, but I wasn’t sure if it would again. My phone buzzed again.
Dylan: I’m really sorry.
I stared at the screen. I couldn’t and wouldn’t say no to him. I was myself—the new reinvented Beth Harrison, with Dylan, and he allowed me to be her without it feeling fake or it being an effort. It was as if he was the final piece in rebuilding myself—he’d lodged in my soul and he’d be there forever.
I’d never be able to say no to Dylan, whatever he asked of me.