Wednesday drags. I try to appreciate each day we’re given, but it’s hard when all I want is for it to be Thursday already. Since it’s not, I do what I totally shouldn’t do according to dating rules. I text Dex.

Me: Is it Thursday yet?

Five minutes later…

Dex: I wish.

Me: Me too.

Dex: Want to go to lunch?

Too excited, I rush my answer, not caring about old dating rules. Me: Yes.

Dex: I’ll pick you up in an hour.

Me: I’ll be ready.

Now I try to play it cool and settle the giddiness that has built up inside me while hurrying to my closet to figure out what to wear. Dex makes me want to dress cool like he does, but aside from clothes that tend to lend themselves more for evening wear, I don’t own much ‘cool’ anymore. Not sure where we’re going to eat, so I pull a long striped skirt on and a fitted tank top because it’s comfortable. It’s also warm out, so this way I won’t get all sweaty. The last thing I want to be around Dex, is sweaty. Images of the last few times we got sweaty together cross my mind, but I quickly shake them away, well aware that that kind of workout won’t be happening today. No matter how much I kind of wish it could.

I finish getting ready and am going to the kitchen to retrieve my purse when the doorbell rings. After grabbing my bag, I’m greeted by Dex’s smile, and just like that, my breath catches as my heart skips a beat. “Hi,” I say, feeling that familiar heat rise to my cheeks.

His grin grows wider and he says, “Hi. You ready to go?”

“Yep.”

In the driveway sits his 1976 Challenger. He opens the door for me then shuts it after I slide onto the leather seat. “The car’s looking good,” I say when he gets in.

“Sitting in a driveway for almost six months doesn’t do any car good, but this Challenger is reliable.”

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Rodeo Drive.”

“I didn’t take you for the Beverly Hills crowd.”

He pulls off my street and says, “I’m not, but my mother is. I need to pick up a birthday present from her favorite jeweler. Mind going with me before lunch?”

“Not at all.” I look out the window, then turn to him again. “How are you?”

His fingers stretch over the steering wheel and I see the right side of his lips curl up. “I’m good. I’m glad to see you… too.”

“I guess I’m not good at pretending, playing it cool and all that.” I roll my eyes, feeling foolish.

“You don’t have to be. You only have to be yourself around me. At this stage in our lives, it feels like we’ve known each other longer than we have.”

Dragging my hands down the front of my thighs, I say, “I think we’ve just lived more life in the time we’ve known each other than before we met.”

“I thought life was so fucking hard back then.”

“It’s much harder now.”

He nods, leaning his head against the seatback, he sighs. “Let’s not ever grow up.”

I laugh at the irony before the humor is gone. “I think it’s too late.”

“It’s never too late to live in Neverland.”

“I thought Neverland was only for boys.”

“Hmm… I don’t think so.” He contemplates the thought before adding, “Wendy was there.”

“Wendy wasn’t supposed to be there though. Peter took her there.”

“Maybe we can just pretend she was meant to be there all along.”

Looking down at my lap, I twist the hem of my shirt. His words always seem to have a meaning deeper than what’s spoken. “I’ll be Wendy,” I whisper, playing along with what I hope is the right assumption. “You can show me your world, Peter.”

He glances over at me, then back to the road, his brown eyes revealing how he feels. “You look beautiful.” Reaching forward he turns on some music. The Nirvana song is loud, the words sad, but like the man sitting next to me, complex and completely captivating.

When we near the store, he slows down, and asks, “Do you want to wait here or come with me?”

“I’ll come with you.”

He pulls up to the curb and the attendant opens my door. Dex moves to the sidewalk, giving the keys to the valet as he passes. I could be mistaken but it looks as if he’s reaching for my hand, then quickly tucks it into his pocket instead. When I’m by his side, I ask, “Hey, what was that?”

While checking out the surrounding area, he says, “That was the realization that Neverland only exists when we’re alone. The rest of the world owns everything else.”

His strides are long and determined to reach the shop, so I pick up my pace to keep up with him. “It doesn’t have to be like that, Dex. Cory and I—”

He stops and looks at me. His demeanor patient, but his expression tainted when he asks, “What about you and Cory?”

Eeks. Touchy subject. “Um, I was just going to say that we managed to elude them most times when we went out.”

Staring into my eyes, his narrow, but suddenly he checks his watch. “We’re going to be late.”

“Late for what?”

“Lunch,” he says as the door to the jeweler opens and he walks in.

A few minutes later, he’s inspecting a broach in the shape of a cat. “My mother loves cats as companions. I think it’s because they’re aloof like she is. She disagrees.”

“I love fireflies.”

With a smile, he says, “Why fireflies? They’re ugly.”

“But at night they transform. They’re magical. I’ve seen them on the East Coast, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen them here in LA.”

“I don’t think I have either. It’s probably too smoggy.” He hands his credit card to the salesperson after approving the custom piece.

“I bet there are fireflies in Neverland.”

His hand brushes against mine. “I bet there are.”

* * *

“You’re taking me home for lunch?”

“No, I’m taking you to my mother’s.”

“In Beverly Hills?”

“Yes,” he responds and turns left.

“You’re a rich kid, aren’t you, Dexter?”

He takes a right, obviously a short cut he knows by heart. “As the band’s business manager, you know how much money I’ve made.”

“You’re right. I do, but I mean, you come from money. How did I never know this before?”

“I guess you had your mind on other things.”

That hits hard. “I guess I did. I’m sorry for not asking about you before now. I should have. I want to know all about you and your family.”

Pulling up to the white gate of the nearest driveway, he punches in a code on the keypad. As the big gates open before us, he says, “We’re here.” After he parks, he takes the gift from the seat between us and looks at me. “My Mother can be intimidating. Don’t take her shit.”

My wide eyes must show my fear. “How about I just stick close to you?”

“That’s good.” The mood lightens and we get out.

A butler is standing at the open front door when we approach. “Sir, good to see you again,” he says.

“Good to see you, Charles. You know I prefer Dex to Sir. This is my friend, Rochelle Floros.”

“Ms. Floros. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he greets me with a slight bow.

“Rochelle is fine,” I say, sticking my hand out to shake his. He hesitates before accepting it. I know it goes against their formal training to accept the handshake, but I haven’t been around butlers and such since I lived in Boston. Housekeepers, yes. But formally trained butlers, no.

I smile at Dex, so curious as to how he went from this fancy estate to where I met him at that dive down on Sunset. As we follow Charles inside, I whisper, “We’ve known each other for almost eleven years.”

“Eleven next month.”

“You knew that?”

“I—”

“Antonio,” a woman calls as she comes toward us, the sound bouncing off the marble floors, echoing. She’s dressed in a maid’s uniform.

I’m kind of blown away by how different everything is here from his house in the Hills, and how I know Dex to be. But we’re all shaped from our childhood so I’m interested to see if any of the rich kid from Beverly Hills still remains.

“Judith.” His arms open wide. Looking at me over her shoulder, he adds, “Judith was my nanny when I was young. She stayed on as housekeeper afterward.” He pulls back and smiles at her. “You’re looking good. You working out?”

He’s such a flirt.

She blushes with a hand on her hip, and replies, “I have a new boyfriend, so there might be a little workout involved.”

“You dirty girl!” he says with a look of approval.

“Stop it.” She swats his arm and he playfully ducks out of reach. “Anyway, you’re here for lunch with your mother, but unfortunately, she’s not here.”

The good-natured moment has evaporated and a staleness fills the air. “Where is she?”

“It doesn’t matter, Antonio. I’ve got a wonderful meal and I see you’ve brought a friend. Hello, I’m Judith.” A warm, welcoming smile crosses her face as she reaches for my hand.

“I’m Rochelle. It’s very nice to meet you.”

She covers the back of my hand with her free one and asks, “Are you hungry?”

Dex cuts in before I can respond, “We’re not staying.”

Judith rubs his arm. “Don’t let her upset you.”

“She already did. Where’d she go?”

Judith hesitates then glances to me before she answers him, “The club.”

He nods as he walks toward me. “She always did enjoy spending more time with a martini than her own son. Did Gage call her?”

“No, he was due in court today.”

“We’re gonna go.” His pain evident.

“Antonio…” I hear the sadness in Judith’s voice. It sounds a lot like the ache in my chest I’m feeling for him.

He takes my hands and starts walking back out the door.

Judith hurries behind us, and says, “I’m sorry she’s not here.”

“Not your fault. Always good to see you and go easy on your new boyfriend. Not everyone can handle a sex kitten like you in the sack,” he jokes.

She laughs. “More like cougar. I haven’t been a kitten for many years.”

In the car, we wait at the bottom of the driveway for the gates to open. The tension in the car is building but I just want to make it go away and heal the hurt he’s feeling. “I’m sorry you won’t get to see your mother.”

“We’re gonna see her.”

“We are?”

He nods, not adding to the conversation. Certain topics control his mood like a pendulum. He can be the happiest guy around and then fall to the other side when a heaviness replaces the joy. His mother is obviously one of these topics. Cory being another…

Ten minutes of listening to the engine roar as the wind blows through the open windows of the car, and we’re there. Security waves him through. “Are you a member of this country club?” I ask.

“My family has generational privileges.”

“Makes sense and very fancy, Mr. Caggiano. I didn’t think you golfed.”

He pulls into a parking spot and says, “Actually, I do golf. I even played in high school on the team for a year before I quit.”

“Why’d you quit?”

“Because I hate golf clothes almost as much as I hate Chad Spears and he was Team Captain.”

“Why do you hate Chad so much?”

His irritation is apparent. “Spears is a spoiled asshole.” His eyes hook to his right onto mine and he says, “Listen, stay away from him. He’s shiny on the outside, all packaged up and manufactured by his producer parents and Hollywood, but he’s bad news.”

“Are you jealous?” I tease. Wrong move on my part.

Cutting the engine, he stares at me. “I’m not jealous. The girls he dates, they’re different when he’s done with him. He’s a user of drugs, people, and connections. He gets high off of building himself up by destroying others. Bad news, Rochelle. Don’t trust him. Okay?”

I’ve never seen him so serious before. “Fine.”

“Promise me?”

“Okay, I promise,” I reply.

I’m learning there’s a long history there. I mentally note that Chad Spears is another one of those hot topics for Dex.

We walk inside the main building and I follow as he begins walking faster, taking big strides to the patio on the other side. The place is busy, the ladies who lunch dressed in tennis clothes, Diane Von Furstenberg, or silk dresses. I feel out of place, definitely underdressed now.

There’s a beautiful woman, flawless skin with chestnut colored hair that is reminiscent of Jackie O. She’s laughing with three friends, martini glasses in front of each. He sets the present down in front of her and says, “Happy Birthday, Mother.” With that out of the way, he turns around and starts walking away.

She doesn’t seem surprised in the least as she calls, “Antonio. Come back here.” Her tone is not demanding, but lilted with a smile, maybe to keep up appearances.

“Dex,” I whisper, taking hold of his arm before he passes me. “Stop.” I nod behind me and add, “It can be different. Give her a chance.”

His hardened glare softens before my eyes as he looks at me. When his hand touches my face, he whispers, “You’re so damn beautiful.” He leaves me standing there in awe of his sweet words and twisted from the sad event.

Her voice reminds me of Katherine Hepburn and other women of society back East, not California at all. “Are you with my son?” she asks, fluffing the bottom of her bob hairstyle.

With big curious eyes on me, I reply, “I am.” Maybe more than I’m ready to acknowledge.

“Please send my gratitude for the gift.”

Her sentiment feels cold despite the words. “I think it would mean more coming from you.”

She’s uncomfortable in the conversation by how she shifts on her feet. “He doesn’t take my calls,” she states with one hand on her hip.

“Maybe because you stand him up. Excuse me. I need to catch up with him.” I hurry away, rushing through the clubhouse and out the doors. Dex is sitting in his car, windows down, the engine off. When I approach, he slides his sunglasses down over his eyes and looks straight ahead. Choosing to let this all die down, his emotions showing in his slumped shoulders, I lean my palms on the open window, and say, “Hey, you still owe me lunch.”

With a tilt of his head in my direction, I see a slight smile cross his face. “You’re right. Get in.”

* * *

“I didn’t know Beverly Hills had burger joints.” I take another big bite of my burger.

“It’s a little secret. Most people don’t realize that not everyone in Beverly Hills proper is wealthy. There are pockets of average working Joes.”

Related, but my thoughts veering, I state, “I’ve thought about moving.”

His head jolts and he’s facing me. “Where?”

“I’m not sure. Just somewhere else.”

Setting his burger down, he appears to have lost his appetite. He pushes his plastic basket away from him and looks out at the nearby street. “LA?”

“There are a lot of memories tied up in LA, but I feel it might be time for a change of scenery.”

When he turns back to me, there’s an earnestness found in his unwavering confession. “I don’t want you to leave.”

His honesty strikes me, causing me to take him seriously. “I have the boys, Dex.”

Leaning forward, his whispered words don’t hide his irritation, “You keep reminding me like I don’t realize you’re a package deal.”

“I remind you so you can get out before it’s too late.”

“It’s already too late.”

His words take my breath, a silent gasp held hostage while I stare into the sincerity of his comforting eyes. Two beats of my pulse and I’m revived, and reply, “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Under the table, he finds my hand and holds it. “My feelings for you are real. But for you, I’ll be your Peter Pan and you can pretend to be Wendy and we’ll stay in Neverland until you’re ready to see that Neverland doesn’t have to live only in our imaginations.”

“Dex?” I say, looking down. It’s all too much and I push my burger away, feeling a lump forming in my throat. “You say these things in broad daylight—”

“I say what I feel and I feel so much for you.”

I sigh. “Please—”

“Please what?”

Sitting up, our fingers falling away from each other, I say, “Please leave the future out there in the distance for just a little longer. I have things that I need to sort through first, right here in the present.”

“I’ll wait.”

Getting up, I set my napkin on the table and walk around the booth to his side. Sliding in next to him, I take his face between my hands and ask, “Did Wendy and Peter ever kiss?”

With a smug smile in place, he says, “All the fucking time.”

My smile is unstoppable as I lift up to kiss him on the lips. His strong hands cover my sides, holding me to him, but he pulls back. “We shouldn’t do this here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Good. Because I’m really not.”

He leans forward this time and kisses my forehead. “Let’s go. I need to get you back to the Valley before the kids are out of school.” Hearing him say that makes me think that maybe he does realize what comes along with dating me.

In the car, I want to ask him about his mother, but I’m not sure how to broach the subject. I decide direct is best. “Your Mother said to tell you thank you.”

Silence.

“Dex?”

“I haven’t seen my brother, Gage, in almost a year. He’s married and lives in Thousand Oaks. LA’s big, but it’s not that big.”

“Why haven’t you seen him?”

“He’s a lawyer, a partner at a firm with a steady job and all that, former pride of my family, but he took money from me and I found out three years ago.”

“He stole from you?”

Dex’s fingers tighten around the wheel, his knuckles going white. “He set up this account and had me sign a contract that I thought was for IRS reporting. It blew up in his face when the IRS contacted my accountant wanting their money. Like I wouldn’t find out.”

I shift my back against the door, so I can see him better. “Why didn’t I know about this?”

With a glance, he says, “You were kind of busy three years ago.”

The plane crash. The funeral. My darkest year.

“I’m sorry.” I say it because my heart aches for him and his betrayal.

With a reassuring smile, he says, “Why are you sorry? You have no reason to be.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.”

“There was nothing anybody could do. I dealt with my shitty brother. Per her usual MO, my Mother didn’t take my side—”

“She took his?”

“No, she tried to play Switzerland, but I know deep down if the roles had been reversed, she would have sided with him. He was always her favorite. It was easy to see it. Each summer, I was shipped off to my grandfather’s. She took him to the South of France.”

“Doesn’t sound like it was all bad if you ask me. I mean, how much sun and beautiful azure-colored water can you really stare at all day?”

His laugh is heard over the wind that whistles through the car. “True.” When his hand finds mine, he says, “You have a really unique way of looking at situations, Wendy.”

“It’s a gift, I guess. I just learned that you see a situation how you want to see it, whether it’s the truth or not.”

“Your beauty shines through.”

“Well I’m also learning that you’re not just a pretty face and kickass drummer.”

Chuckling, he says, “Nope, I also have other talents.” He waggles his tongue, and at the sight of that, I clench my legs together. If he wasn’t so damn sexy, I might be offended.

Pulling up into my driveway, I say, “Can’t wait to see that in action, you big tease.”

“It’s not about seeing. It’s about feeling. And trust me, I’m struggling to wait too.” He looks past me, and says, “You’re home.”

I’m too stunned and now too turned on to think clearly, so I just sit there for a few seconds trying to collect myself from the puddle I turned into on the floorboard of his Challenger. The name of the car feels way too apropos right now. “Yeah, I should go… home, inside, the place I live,” I start rambling.

One more stunning smile in my direction, and he adds, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, um, right. Tomorrow.”

I get out and stumble a bit, left a little off balance from his words and a lot off balance by how much he affects me. And just like how the day started, I’m left impatiently waiting for Thursday to get here.