by L. G. Davis
“But you do have to give him a real chance.” I pause. “When you introduced me to him, I saw in his eyes that he really likes you.”
Unlike Thalia, I would like a man like Mr. Nice Guy for myself. Could Dylan be that kind of guy? As much as I’m drawn to him, I’m finding it hard to believe I could enter into a relationship with a man like him. We are from two completely different worlds.
“I will. I promise. Enough about me. Go and have fun with Dylan. Let me know how it goes.”
Even though I arrive at Lacey’s Place fifteen minutes early this time, I still find Dylan there, at the same table we occupied last time.
“Are you always so punctual when meeting up with someone?” I ask after we order drinks.
He gives me a gaze that makes my skin feel both hot and cold.
“Only if that someone is special.” He places his hands on the table, one on each side of the centerpiece, palms facing up.
I have no idea what gets into me, but I find myself placing my palms on top of his, soaking up his warmth. As quickly as we touch, I come to my senses and withdraw my hands.
“I apologize.” He leans back. “I don’t know what gets into me when I’m around you. I tend to do things I don’t normally do.”
“That’s fine.” I smile up at the waitress when she places my sparkling water in front of me and a cappuccino in front of Dylan.
When the waitress walks away, Dylan watches me over the rim of his cup before taking a swig. His eyes are still on me when he lowers it to the table. “Paige, before we eat, I should be upfront with you.”
I lower my glass to the table, stomach clenched tight. “Okay?”
“There’s another reason why I wanted to see you tonight.” He lays his hands flat on the table, fingers splayed. “I did something without your permission and I hope you won’t take it the wrong way.”
“What ... What did you do?” It’s hard to get the words through my dry throat.
“A couple of days ago, I found out that you’re behind on your rent.” He raises a hand before I can protest. “You have to believe that it wasn’t my intention. I was merely doing paperwork related to some of my father’s rental properties when I came across your records.”
My mouth parts but no words come out. I have no right to be upset as the apartment building does belong to him. “I—”
“Hey, don’t look so frightened.” He takes another swig of coffee. “I just want to tell you that you’re in the clear. I’ve arranged for you to stay in the apartment rent free for six months, if you like.”
“What?” Embarrassment stirs in my belly and heat creeps into my cheeks. I drink my water to moisten my tongue before I speak. “Dylan, that was very kind of you, but you shouldn’t have done that. I don’t want you to think I’m meeting up with you because—”
“That’s not what I think. I wanted to help; that’s all. We never have to talk about it again.”
I drop my head into my hands to collect myself, then look back up at him. “I don’t know what to say.”
“No need to say anything.” He dips his head to the side. “And don’t feel like you owe me anything.”
“This is rather embarrassing.”
“It doesn’t have to be. Sometimes people need help, and there’s nothing wrong with it.”
“Thank you,” I say. “Thank you for putting me in the clear, but I’d still like to pay my rent for the next six months.” The fact that I no longer have to pay the overdue rent is already help enough.
Ryan hasn’t brought up the topic of his online business again and never offered me any money, but I plan on asking him to help out with some of the bills. But I have the feeling he’ll dangle the carrot in front of my nose and then snatch it away.
“You don’t have to. I’m offering you a break, and it’s okay to take it.”
“How can I be sure you don’t want anything in return?”
“If you are referring to my feelings for you, be assured that my helping you has nothing whatsoever to do with what happens or doesn’t happen between us. I’d love to see you again, but if you decide this is our last date, that’s okay. I’ll walk away knowing I made at least a little difference in your life. Does that make you feel better?”
“Yes, yes it does. Thank you.” As the words leave my lips, something inside me shifts. I hate to admit it to myself, but it does feel good to be taken care of for a change. This time I’m the one who places my hands on the table. He lays his warm, comforting hands over them and squeezes.
The rest of the evening, our conversation is focused on him, which is a relief. He tells me about his childhood in New York after his parents’ divorce, and about his trips around the world.
“I’ve always wanted to travel abroad. I’d like to see Africa one day.” I raise a crispy Baja fish taco to my mouth, careful not to spill the delicious goodies.
“Maybe one day you will.” He chews his toasted sesame and ginger salmon. “Where in Africa would you go?”
“I never really thought about it.”
“What’s the first country that comes to mind when you think of visiting the African continent?”
“Namibia. I’d love to see the Namibian desert.” I smile at him, swept up in the moment. What do I have to lose by dreaming?
“Namibia is a beautiful country. I was there three years ago. It’s an amazing safari destination.” He dabs his lips with a napkin. “Who knows, maybe I’ll take you there one day.”
Conflicted about how to respond to what sounds like an offer, I continue to eat my food in silence while I think of the appropriate thing to say.
“I’m getting ahead of myself a little, aren’t I?”
“A little.” I nibble my lip.
“I guess I can’t help myself.” He pauses. “The thing is, I’m not the kind of person who beats around the bush. I like you. I really like you. I feel a connection between us that’s kind of hard to ignore. Tell me you don’t feel it.”
“I do …” I drop my head.
He tips my chin up. We gaze into each other’s eyes again. The moment stretches until it’s broken by the waitress appearing with our dessert.
Heat radiates through my chest as I enjoy my white chocolate mousse.
As if nothing intoxicating has transpired between us, he tells me more about his adventures in Namibia.
After we leave the restaurant, he takes my elbow and walks me to my car.
Before I get behind the wheel, he lowers his head to mine, and I find myself dipping my head back.
Our lips meet at the same time an explosion goes off inside my head.
Chapter 17
It took one kiss to change my life. The moment my lips touched Dylan’s on our second date, something inside me shifted. The resistance I’d had toward dating him melted away before my eyes, and I allowed him to sweep me off my feet.
It’s been three weeks, and I never regretted my decision. At first, I thought it would be awkward to date a billionaire, but Dylan is surprisingly normal. Although occasionally he takes me out to fancy restaurants and buys me expensive gifts, most of what we do when we’re together is normal.
With him, a quick dinner at the hot dog stand before we go to the movies is just as thrilling as dining under chandelier lights. I appreciate that he tries very hard not to make me feel uncomfortable, and when I refused to allow him to pay my bills, he respected my decision. I don’t want him to think I’m dating him for the money, because all I’m interested in is his heart, something I didn’t even know I wanted.
On our third date, he opened up that he had just come out of a serious relationship that ended due to them wanting different things in life.
“Did you break up with her or did she end the relationship?” I’d asked, scared to be his rebound girl.
“It was me who ended things,” he’d said, then he assured me he had never felt for any woman the way he feels about me, and that he was giving me a real chance.
I believed him. Even though th
e little voice at the back of my mind often insists that it will not last, that there’s an expiration date to my happiness and I should catch my fall before I hit the ground, I turn a deaf ear.
For the first time in my life, I’m truly happy. I’m determined to hold on to the good feelings for as long as I possibly can. It tells me that this is just a dream and it’s only a matter of time before I wake up to face the nightmare that is my life.
After three weeks, my feet still haven’t touched the ground. But tonight, they just might.
Over the past few weeks I’ve wrestled with whether or not to introduce Dylan to Ryan. Initially, I didn’t want to introduce them because I feared it might not last, but now that I know I want Dylan to stay in my life for as long as he wants to be in it, it might be time for him to meet Ryan.
Many times, when we were together, Dylan had shown interest in meeting Ryan, but I’ve always found an excuse to delay the inevitable.
Tonight, we just finished eating dinner at a fast food restaurant three blocks from my apartment. When he brings me back to my place, I don’t kiss him and say goodnight. Instead, I invite him into the apartment to meet Ryan.
“Only if you’re sure, babe.” He lays a hand on my cheek. “I wouldn’t want to push you into anything. I only want to meet him because he’s such a big part of your life.”
“You’re right, he’s a large part of my life. And so are you.” I clasp my hands in my lap. “But before ... There’s something you should know. Something I haven’t told you.”
“About Ryan?”
“Yes. About how he got into the wheelchair.”
I tip my head back and close my eyes. The reason I’ve not had the courage to tell him about that night is because I was terrified he’d look at me differently, decide I’m not the woman he thinks I am.
“What is it? You know you can tell me anything.”
Without looking at him, I tell him the dark side of my story. He already knows about my mother and how she died, how I decided to take care of Ryan. So, I tell him about that night, how Ryan showed up on my doorstep asking for money, how I refused. And how my decision led to the shooting.
“He was shot with a little help from me. If I had only given him the money, things could be different now. He could be walking … living—”
“You don’t know that for certain. I think you’re wrong to blame yourself for what happened.”
He places a hand on top of mine, the heat of his touch reaching into my skin, soothing my nerves. “What if you had given him the money and the guys decided they wanted more and shot him anyway? For all you know, he might still have ended up in a wheelchair.”
“Ryan disagrees.” I glance up at the apartment building and a knot starts to form in the pit of my stomach. “Anyway, don’t expect him to be nice to you. He’s a very angry and bitter person. He lives in the past.”
“I’m not afraid of meeting him.” Dylan twists his body to face me. “Maybe it would help him to see you living your life. You might inspire him to do the same.”
“I doubt it.” I haven’t told Dylan about how evil Ryan can be sometimes, the dangerous threats he makes. The last thing I need is for Dylan to think I’m in danger and feel the need to take steps to protect me, maybe even call the cops. “Are you sure you’re ready to meet him? It won’t be a big deal if you change your mind.”
Dylan lays a hand between my shoulder blades. “I won’t change my mind. This is your life, and I want to be a part of it.”
“Okay.” I open the door and step out of the car. A gust of wind blows my hair into my face and I sweep the strands back, tucking them behind my ears. I glance up at the apartment. My skin crawls when I spy Ryan sitting by the window, the living room light creating a halo around him.
Even from a distance, his cold stare makes me shudder. No way. I can’t do this to Dylan or to myself.
I turn to Dylan, who has come to stand next to me. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I thought I was ready.” I push a hand through my hair. “I don’t think I am. Can we please do it another time?”
He gathers me into his arms, his cologne wrapping around me like a warm cloak. “Absolutely. If you need more time, that’s fine. I’m not going anywhere.”
“What did I do to deserve you?”
“What did I do to deserve you?” He kisses me hard on the lips. He tastes of the mint and chocolate sweets he keeps in his car.
Ryan’s stare scalds the back of my head, but I don’t care that he’s watching. I sink into Dylan’s arms anyway.
I’m the one who breaks the kiss. “Thanks for understanding. I’ll call you tomorrow after work.”
“Good. Don’t forget that I’ll be cooking you dinner.” Dylan has already cooked me a few delicious gourmet meals in the kitchen of the villa his father left him, and he’s an amazing cook.
He kisses my forehead and gets into his Mercedes. Before he drives away, he sticks his head out of the window. “And don’t worry about tonight.”
“All right.” I wrap my arms around my body as I watch his car drive down the street.
My feet are heavy as I enter the apartment. I find Ryan still by the window, his features distorted by fury.
A week left before we reach the deadline I gave him, and he hasn’t changed one bit. Once or twice I thought he was starting to live his life. He’s on the phone more often now and for longer periods of time—and not just to order food.
Two weeks ago, I came home to find two glasses of wine on the kitchen counter. One had lipstick stains on it. Four days ago, I saw a red Pashmina scarf on his bed. The color had stood out drastically against the inky black sheets.
The idea of him possibly seeing someone excited me. I thought it would put him in a better mood, that he would be open to me dating Dylan. I was wrong.
The day I told him I was dating, he threw a bottle of wine at me. I ducked at the last second and it hit the wall behind me instead. I still shudder when I remember the dangerous look in his eyes when he told me to break things off with Dylan. Of course, I refused and ignored his tantrums whenever I went out to meet up with him.
Why does he feel he can date while I’m not allowed to? Last week I found the courage to ask him whether he was seeing someone. He told me to back off. So, I did. I continued to date Dylan, to focus on my own happiness. But I reminded Ryan of the decision he had to make.
“You were with him again,” he says now, his voice a grainy rumble in his throat.
“Yes, Ryan.” I slump against the doorframe. “He’s a part of my life, and I wanted you to meet him. I told you that before I went out tonight.”
“Why isn’t he here then? Is he some kind of coward?”
“Shut up.” I form a fist with my right hand, my nails digging into the flesh of my palm. “I’ll not let you talk about him that way. Dylan is a good man, and he’s been kind to me.”
“What does he do when you’re together, huh? Does he listen when you whine about me? Does he offer you a shoulder to cry on?” He moves to the center of the living room, runs his tongue across his bottom lip. “What do you tell him about me, Sis? Do you tell him how terrible I am, how I make your life hell?”
“No,” I push away from the doorframe. “I try not to think about you when I’m with him. When I’m with Dylan, I choose to be happy. Whether you like it or not, he makes me happy.” I straighten my shoulders. “I’d also be happy for you if you find someone you care about, someone who cares about you. I’d love to meet the girl you’re dating.”
“Leave her out of this.” He clenches his jaw tight.
It’s confirmed then. He really is dating someone.
I shrug. “Fine, you don’t have to introduce me to her, but I’d still like you to meet Dylan. He really wants to meet you. And he offered to buy you one of those high-tech wheelchairs.”
Ryan is quiet, but the veins on his neck push against his skin. “I can’t be bought,” he says in a low voice. “He and his high-tech wheelchair can go to hell.”
/> “He’s not trying to buy you. He’s just being kind. There’s nothing wrong with accepting kindness from people.” I grab the door handle, ready to end the conversation as it’s not getting anywhere.
His hand slams the armrest of his wheelchair. “Not from him.” The words come out of his mouth like a roar. As soon as he says them, his wheelchair starts to shake, and then in a flash of a moment, it topples to its side seconds before it hits the floor hard with him in it.
“Ryan!” He’s squirms out of the wheelchair as I rush to him, my knees hitting the floor.
With a bellow, he swats my hands away. Like someone possessed, he lifts his head and crashes it into the wooden floor, over and over.
“Please, Ryan, stop it!” Tears choke my voice.
Watching my brother hurt sends a bolt of pain hitting my chest. I want to erase his pain, to hold him and make it all go away.
Tears flowing, I gather him into my arms and hold him tight as he struggles, then finally stops rejecting my touch. He’s crying now, as well. I can’t remember the last time I saw him cry. His whole body is shaking and breaking apart in my arms. My little brother is back.
“Tell him to go away,” he begs between sobs. “I want it to be just us.”
How can it be just us when he’s also seeing someone?
I don’t respond, just hold him for a while longer, rocking him, stroking his greasy hair. It feels good to finally connect with him. I don’t remember the last time we touched without hurting each other. The last hug I gave him was on the day that changed our lives forever. I have missed him so much. Even with him in my arms, I still miss him.
As I embrace the moment, he suddenly yanks his head away from me and sinks his teeth into my hand. I yell and let go.
To my horror, he continues to hurt himself, his head hitting the floor harder. I weep with my hands covering my mouth, cry harder when I see his blood taint the wood. He needs help, the kind I can’t offer. Tears plop onto my hands as I grab my purse and I pull out my phone.
“Don’t you dare call anyone,” he says through clenched teeth, taking a break from hurting himself. “Do it and you’ll regret it.”
