When I Let You Go (Let Me Book 6)

by Lily Foster

  “Maybe.”

  She smiled, knowing I wouldn’t divulge anything more. “I’m going to bring us out some snacks. Be right back.”

  When she closed the sliding glass door behind her, my father turned to me. “Your mother wants to sign the Vineyard house over to you.”

  “Why?”

  “I think she found the last two weeks insufferable. Same tired old crowd, same parties.”

  “She doesn’t feel like a part of that world anymore?” Dad nodded. “I get it. Did you run into the Tates?”

  “Only when it was inevitable. We managed, it was entirely awful. They aren’t the reason she wants to unload the house. She—”

  I stared him down, cutting him off before he tried to spin some bullshit excuse. “Mom knows you brought her there, doesn’t she?” He lowered his eyes to the floor. “Sell it,” I said as I got up to go back inside. “I don’t want anything that stinks of her either.”

  “Ouch!” Rachel looked up at me with a puzzled expression as she wriggled her hand free from my tight grasp.

  “I’m sorry, Rachel,” I said, smoothing her hair.

  I was on edge. Waiting on the short line to check our coats, I took in the space. I knew from reading the Style section of the Times that this downtown winery sometimes hosted small concerts, but it was more of a hip date spot known for its trendy wine pairing menus and Sunday jazz brunch. I’d never been here before but imagined it had been transformed for this evening’s event. Tonight it looked like an extremely fancy flea market, and women were already walking the perimeter, scrutinizing the dresses that were hung up and backlit, a write-up about the designer posted next to each garment.

  “I wonder where Mommy’s dresses are,” Rachel said as she looked around in wonder.

  “We’ll find them,” I assured her.

  Getting dressed for this thing was a nightmare. The thought of being overdressed or too casual had me trying on outfit after outfit, discarding every castoff onto a pile on my bedroom floor. I settled on a short, moss green sleeveless dress paired with my favorite peep-toe heels. Inspecting myself in the mirror, I knew I wouldn’t look as well-heeled as the other women at this event, but I was satisfied, thinking it looked good enough.

  I was mad at myself for even caring what he thought.

  Ever since July, since that whispered near-kiss he laid on me when he scolded me, I couldn’t get Dylan Cole out of my mind. I hated the knowing look he shot me, as if he suddenly had some kind of window into my screwed up psyche once he found out I was nailing my professor. And all summer I had that glamazon’s face in my head, refusing to admit that I was green with jealousy at the thought of him so much as touching her.

  Hate, jealousy and then tenderness. My feelings were all over the map when it came to him. When he showed up at the flower shop a few weeks ago to drop off an invite to this fundraiser, he was a different man. He seemed unsure of himself, hopeful that I might attend—even pointing out Kasia’s name among the featured designers listed on the invitation to entice me when I didn’t automatically commit. When my aunt called to ask if I’d take Rachel, I was grateful to have her as a buffer, as my reason for going.

  The women here ranged in age from what I estimated to be early thirties up through their seventies. Although most were definitely part of the socialite, ladies who lunch crew, the crowd was a mixed bag. Definitely a few artist types, and the designers were easy to spot, fussing over their favorite clients.

  “That’s Mommy’s!” Rachel skipped ahead, making her way towards a confection of a dress, the top a strapless bodice covered in beads that caught the subtle light in the room, the bottom a tulle skirt that made it look like a dream to dance in.

  “Are you sure?” This didn’t look like one of hers—Kasia didn’t do whimsy as far as I knew.

  “It’s hers,” said a voice from behind me. “She made it for my cousin Anna years ago. Anna treasured that dress and everything else Kasia made for her.” Dylan moved beside me and smiled down at me. “She was happy to donate it for tonight, though. This is a great cause.”

  Rachel piped up, tapping Dylan on the arm. “Hi.”

  “Hey,” he said, crouching down to her level. “I know you must be Rachel Wozniak because you look so much like your mom.”

  Rachel beamed whenever someone made a comparison between her and Kasia, so she was a fan of Dylan’s from the start. “You knew my mother?”

  “We were really good friends back in college.”

  “Oh. Do you know my father too?”

  He nodded and smiled. “Yes, I know Jake too. Your dad is a really great guy.”

  Getting right down to business, Rachel gestured towards the bid sheet and asked him, “How does this work?”

  “Well, people write their name here and then write down how much they’re willing to spend on the dress. Then they either get to keep the dress for that amount, or someone else can come along and write down a bigger amount, and then that person gets to keep it.”

  “I bet someone is going to spend a lot for this dress. Look! Someone wrote down one thousand dollars and then someone else, M.C….Who’s that?” Before getting an answer, Rachel exclaimed, “She wrote three thousand!”

  Guessed I’d be buying the modestly priced raffle tickets instead. I leaned down and kissed Rachel’s cheek. “Everyone loves you mom’s designs.”

  Looking back to Dylan again, she asked, “Are you here to bid on the dresses?”

  He bit back a smile. “No, I’m here because my mother is the one running this party, so I’m kind of helping her out.” Turning to me, he said, “I don’t think I’d look so hot in that number.”

  “No, you should stick to suits.” And he looked damned delicious in the black suit he was wearing tonight, a black button down shirt open at the neck completing the look.

  “So how’s the flower business, Veronica?”

  “It’s good.” I breathed in deep, trying to collect myself. I couldn’t help it, he unnerved me. “I’m managing the store now.”

  “Manager,” he said, nodding in approval. “So I trust you’re now making a habit of being fully dressed when the store opens in the morning?”

  Such a wiseass. “I’m working on that.”

  “The display windows are really great. You design them yourself.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I do, thank you.”

  “It’s sort of on my way to work.” No, it’s most certainly not. I know where you live and I know where you work. He caught my curious look and cleared his throat. “Once every so often I see you in the window wrestling with some branches or bales of hay. I like the giant crows this week.”

  The fact that he went out of his way to see me quickened my pulse and made me smile. I decided to let him off the hook. “They’re ravens, doofus. It’s Halloween season and I put a lot of thought into the whole Sleepy Hollow theme.”

  “Rachel, did you hear that? She called me a doofus! No one’s called me that since I was in the third grade.”

  Rachel giggled and then gasped when the lights flickered on and off.

  A woman’s voice announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats so we can begin tonight’s program and then get back to shopping.”

  “Rachel, let’s go look for our—”

  Dylan looked apprehensive. “Um, you and Rachel are sitting at our table up front. I hope that’s all right.” Rachel beamed as she took Dylan’s outstretched hand as I followed behind the two of them speechless.

  I still couldn’t get a good read on what was happening here. How did he see me? Was this just a game to him or was he trying to draw me in? I couldn’t help this growing sense of longing, and my emotions left me feeling both confused and irritated.

  Dylan pulled Rachel’s chair out for her and then turned to me, placing his hand on the small of my back as he guided me to the chair next to hers. His hand burned hot onto my skin through the fabric of my dress, grazing just above the curve of my lower spine. As he pushed my chair into
the table, he leaned down and whispered to me, “You look beautiful tonight, Veronica.” I took in a shaky breath, unable to reply. I was relieved when the lights dimmed and the spotlight fixed on the podium.

  “Good evening everyone, and thank you so much for supporting this very worthwhile cause. My name is Skylar Harris and tonight I have a lot to be thankful for. Last year I signed up for an after-school yoga class, not expecting much from it. I certainly wasn’t expecting it to change my life, but it has. The sisterhood that developed in that class is something that took all of us by surprise. And as word spread, more girls started showing up. Within a few weeks, some of our older sisters and even our mothers were looking to downward dog.” After the laughter died down, her tone changed. “Those classes never ended on time. Margot…I mean Mrs. Cole, always brought treats to share after class.” Looking towards a beautiful older woman at the head of our table, she pointed and said, “I’m counting on one or two care packages next year. I don’t know if I can live without those cinnamon scones.” They shared a smile before she went on. “Not one of us was in a rush to leave after class because that time turned into something very special. We sat as a group of women sharing our experiences about growing up and living in this city, the good and the bad. We shared our dreams, our disappointments, and talked about things we saw as barriers to our success. This city is so strange, you know? On any day of the week you can be standing on a subway platform wedged between a homeless person and a stock broker. In so many ways, we’re a city divided. And when you’re from the projects, college can seem like no more than a pipe dream, even when you work your butt off to get straight A’s. For as long as I can remember, my mother has worked two jobs. But even with all that she’s sacrificed, college could still be out of reach. She always says, ‘College is important. It’s like a calling card that says: Treat me with respect.’ Well, I have the utmost respect for my mother and for all of the women in our group. We will all make it, pulling each other up and supporting each other along our journey. And although I consider my mother to be one of the smartest women I know, college degree or not, I cannot tell you how proud and excited I am right now. Thanks to all of you for supporting this scholarship program, my mother will be attending Hunter College right here in New York City while I’ll be studying at Cornell this fall. It’s a journey we’ll be taking together.”

  The crowd erupted into applause as the girl’s mother joined her on stage. And when the mom said, “Margot, get up here with us,” the room gave the group a standing ovation.

  I leaned over to Dylan without thinking and said, “Your mother is awesome.”

  “She really is,” he answered.

  But my heart was sinking at the same time. I was now officially a college drop out. Just two years under my belt before I gave up, feeling lost and without direction. Meanwhile, so many people in this city dreamed of something I took for granted. I studied Rachel for a moment, wondering what kind of example I was setting for her.

  “What’s up?” Dylan asked, nudging my knee with his.

  I shook my head. “I’m good. Just thinking it’s time I got my life together and finally finished my degree.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up. Juggling work and classes at the same time is difficult.”

  “No…I dropped out.”

  “And now you regret it?”

  “Yeah, I’m thinking that I do regret it.”

  The woman I now knew to be Margot Cole came over and approached Rachel. “Did I hear that you’re Kasia’s daughter?” When Rachel nodded, she said, “Can I introduce you to my niece, Anna? She was a friend of your mother’s and she’s standing over by a dress your mom made that’s my absolute favorite. C’mon.” Rachel left with Mrs. Cole without a glance backward.

  “Applications are probably due next month for the spring semester, Veronica. Make sure you get on that.” Resting his hand on top of mine, he added, “You’re too smart and accomplished not to see it through.”

  “Stop being so nice to me.”

  He laughed. “Come again?”

  “I just…Ugh! You’re sweet and nice one minute, dark and nasty the next.”

  “Dark, nasty…Who, moi?” he joked, gesturing to himself.

  “I guess you conveniently forgot that crap you muttered in my ear at the vineyard.”

  His eyes darkened. “That, sweet Veronica, was born of anger, pure and simple.” He leaned in closer, so close that his hard chest pressed against my shoulder and his breath warmed my neck. “I’ll be honest, I’m jealous of that lame dick professor. You made me so mad I wanted to toss you over my lap and spank your ass red.”

  “French is a great—”

  He cut me off. “He’s not a great lay. Don’t even try to sell me on that bullshit.”

  My eyes were saucers. I was just about to say he’s a great person, but now I had to go with it. And no way was I telling this cocky bastard that I hadn’t seen or spoken to French in months. “Matter of fact, he is.”

  “Just proves to me that no one’s ever given it to you good.” He looked down at my body as he said that. His eyes fixed on my tits, my hard nipples so painful I wanted to press into him to ease the ache. “What’s that they say about teachers? Yeah, I remember…Those who can’t do, teach. I can do, Veronica. I’ll do you so good you won’t remember your own name. And,” he added, raising my chin so that I had no choice but to look at him, “I’ll be good to you.” His eyes softened. “Let me be good to you.”

  “I—I don’t understand any of this. What do you want from me?”

  “I want everything…But you already know that.”

  Okay…What?

  I breathed a sigh of relief when Rachel came back and crashed our very odd party of two.

  “Dylan, I won the dress and I didn’t even write on the paper! Someone wrote my name next to the winning number! And it was a lot of money.” She leaned over me to whisper in his ear, “Five thousand dollars!”

  Even though my head was basically still spinning from our bizarre little exchange, without thinking I looked to Dylan and mouthed the words: your mother. He held my gaze for a moment before nodding. Looking at Rachel in a way that melted my heart, he said, “That’s great, Rachel! Which dress? The red one, or is it the white one that looks like a princess dress?”

  “The white one,” she said as spun in a circle, as if she was imagining herself in that dreamy cloud of a dress already.

  Mrs. Cole made her way back over with a tall, glamorous young woman by her side. And while Dylan’s mother fixed me with a warm and welcoming look, the other one made no effort to conceal the fact that she was appraising me, top to bottom.

  “Hello, I’m Margot Cole. Thank you so much for coming and for bringing Rachel. She’s an absolute treasure.”

  I stood and took her outstretched hands. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Veronica Petrov. And thank you for inviting us. Tonight was very…inspirational.”

  The younger woman made her way around to the other side of the table and tapped Dylan on the shoulder as she nodded her head towards me. “Dylan, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

  “Hey, Mel,” he said, bending his head down to kiss her.

  She eyed me playfully while his lips were on her cheek. She was perfectly groomed—glossy hair, a tailored pants suit cut with precision for her body alone, and perfectly arched brows that gave her face a severe quality. Something about her set me on edge. Maybe it was the simple fact that someone so beautiful was obviously well acquainted with Dylan.

  “Melanie, this is my friend, Veronica—”

  “Petrov,” she finished for him. “My, my, Dylan,” she mused, “another beautiful eastern European. You always go for the exotic ones.”

  She extended her hand. Forget shaking it, I wanted to spit on it. Instead, I turned away from her and tapped Rachel’s shoulder. “Sweetie, it’s getting late and I promised your dad we’d be home by ten o’clock. We’d better go.”

  “Okay,” Rachel sai
d with a smile. She was the most easy-going child.

  Looking up to Mrs. Cole, who was now joined by her husband, I added, “Thank you both for everything. It really was a wonderful evening.”

  Mrs. Cole flashed me another warm smile and then reached down to hug Rachel. “Goodbye, sweetheart. I’ll make sure the dress you won is sent to your house, okay? Be on the lookout for a special package this week.”

  Dylan was by our side a few moments later as we made our way back towards the coat check near the exit. He grasped my forearm as we waited for the attendant. His look was apologetic when he said, “That’s just Melanie. She’s an acquired taste.” When I didn’t look his way, he added, “She was rude back there.”

  “And obviously doesn’t know her geography very well. Let her know that Poland is in central Europe so she doesn’t go around sounding like such a dumbass.” Looking down to make sure Rachel was still paying attention to the jazz quartet playing near the bar area, I whispered, “Because she was referring to Kasia, wasn’t she? And we are the same type…We’re cousins after all.”

  My comment must have hit a nerve but he acted calm, ignoring me as he took the coats from the attendant while tapping Rachel on the shoulder. “Let’s go, ladies. I have a special car waiting out front to take you home.”

  “I sent for an Uber already.”

  “Really, without taking your phone out of your bag? You must be a magician,” he teased.

  I wanted to kick him in the shins, and might have if Rachel wasn’t with me.

  “Hop in,” he said to Rachel, handing her a pastry box. “My mother wants you to bring this home for you and your brothers…Some extra dessert.”

  “Thank you, Dylan,” she said demurely. Jeez, she was definitely under his spell.

  “Give me a minute with Veronica, ok? I have to ask her something.”

  “Okay,” she chirped, while I simultaneously snapped, “We have to get going.”

  He closed the door halfway and then placed both hands on my shoulders, moving me away so that we were out of earshot. “What’s really wrong?”