Melissa cleared her throat, trying to remain composed. "Yes," was all she said.
He raised his arm to the doorjamb, looking just as hot as ever. With the same squint he'd given her a million times, he coolly asked, "Is there anything else?"
"No," she muttered with a subtle shake of her head. "Nothing else."
"Well, thank you for the pie," the girl said, waving cheerfully at Melissa from the background.
The door closed in her face.
Melissa wiped her tears as she drove, barely able to breathe. That couldn't have just happened. She couldn't have been replaced by a beautiful young blond girl.
She had just been replaced by a beautiful young blond girl.
Her labored breaths came out in sobs. She managed to pull into her driveway and run into the house, collapsing onto the kitchen floor as soon as the door closed behind her. She curled up in a ball, wailing, feeling like her very soul had been ripped out of her body.
She was eventually able to sit up and lean against the cabinets. Her whole body trembled as she wiped her eyes, horrified at the prospect that everything had just come crashing down around her. Dylan may have been done with her, but she wasn't done with him. She was not even close to done with him. She still needed to feel his touch more than she needed oxygen.
Kicking off her shoes, she rose to her feet, heading over to the calendar. Wiping her eyes so she could see, she once again counted the X's that graced the page. She hadn't been with him that long...only a few weeks.
That wasn't long enough.
She rushed to her bedroom, eager to get that God-forsaken nightgown off of her body. She pulled it over her head and threw it on the floor in one motion. Taking comfortable clothes out of her drawer, she put them on and headed back out to the couch, where she curled up in a ball and cried.
She was glad that she'd never had an encounter with Dylan at her house. There were no memories there. Dylan had never even set foot in that place, so the smell of him wasn't anywhere. This was her safe haven—the place she had shared only with Jim.
Jim, her husband who was on the other side of the ocean, too busy to even grace her with a phone call.
The tears wouldn't stop flowing. She was so horribly lonely she could hardly breathe. Aside from the occasional visit from George, nobody ever stopped by. Nobody invited her out. Somehow, she had become isolated from the entire world—even her own husband. And now, the one person she'd become close to had just cast her away like she was trash. She'd been nothing but nice to him; she had given him everything he could have possibly wanted or needed. Yet she had apparently been disposable, easily replaced the second he was able to get out of the house and meet someone else.
Someone younger and prettier, with a firmer body and perkier breasts.
The image of that beautiful, smiling blond girl haunted her mind. She was adorable; even Melissa had to admit that. Of course she was the kind of girl Dylan would have been attracted to. The fact that she had been wearing his shirt was just another slap in the face, as was the 'aunt' comment. Dylan's reply to that hadn't been helpful, either. Melissa was his landlord, according to him. Not his lover. Not his friend. Not the woman who was providing him with the means to a better life.
She was his landlord.
The thought hurt her so much she felt physical pain, causing her to shift position. Perhaps even more agonizing than her sheer loneliness was the loss of Dylan himself. She genuinely thought they had shared something. She believed she had gotten through to him and he had actually cared for her. She had even dared to accept the fact that he wanted her and that she invoked the same desire in him that she had felt. Apparently, none of that had been true. She wondered what he really thought about her. Did he think she was stupid? Was she ugly to him? Had all of those heartfelt conversations been feigned? Had every single second of their relationship been a lie?
She couldn't stay there. She had to do something. She got in her car and headed back to Dylan's, parking down the street, watching his front door without even looking away for a second. Two hours ticked by, but she remained there, determined to talk to him when she was sure that little blond thing wasn't around. She was not going to move from that spot, even if it took all day.
Soon, a car pulled up in front of the house, and both Dylan and Little Blondie walked out. Melissa's pulse raced as she saw them approach the car. She wasn't sure if they were leaving together, but that question got answered when he cupped her face in his hands and planted a lingering kiss on her lips.
Vomit churned within Melissa's stomach and her breath became heavy. She wanted to run out of the car and strangle both of them.
She watched as the perky girl climbed into the backseat of the car, which quickly drove off. Dylan waved to her and then headed back toward the house.
Turning the key, Melissa started her car and rushed into his driveway. He stood in the doorway as she got out of the car and furiously approached him. "Can I talk to you a minute?"
The look that had once appeared sexy suddenly seemed coldhearted. "Are you sure you want to?"
"Yes," she said emphatically, "I want to." She stormed past him and walked inside. "And if you recall correctly, this is my house, so I'm not leaving until it happens. And, if you recall correctly again, you don't have a car, so you're not leaving until it happens."
Chapter 23
Melissa slammed her hand down on the same kitchen counter that she had once slapped for a very different reason. Opening her mouth but unsure what to say, she stuttered, "I-I-I cannot believe you did this to me."
"Did what?" he asked coldly. "Fuck someone else?"
His language gave her pause, but she quickly recovered. "That's exactly what I'm talking about."
"What did you honestly think was going to happen? Did you think I was just going to stay here and fuck you forever?"
His words cut her so sharply that she couldn't speak.
"Listen," he added, holding up his hand, "you were good for me while I was under house arrest and I couldn't meet anybody else. But, seriously...look at you. Did you think I'd want to keep doing this once I could go out and find someone else?" He gestured to her body with her hand. "You're older than my mom."
He might as well have wrapped his hands around her throat and squeezed.
Finally able to talk, she asked, "Why are you being such an asshole? I've been good to you."
"Yeah, you've been good to your little project, Dylan, haven't you?" He curled his lip into a pout. "Poor little Dylan. Nobody loves poor little Dylan. And maybe, just maybe, if you show him enough love, he'll come around and be your ego-feeding success story." His expression once again grew angry as he pointed in her face. "I'll have you know, I'm nobody's fucking project."
"I was trying to help you."
"You were trying to make your pathetic home life better by fucking someone else...which leads me to my next point. How can you be so upset that I'm fucking other girls now when you're married? You're such a hypocrite."
Despite her best efforts to prevent them, tears filled Melissa's eyes. "I thought we had something."
He leaned back against the counter and laughed. "You thought we had something," he repeated with dismay. "Why, because of all those times I touched your face? Because I asked you if you really love your husband? Because you were the only one who was rooting for me? Jesus, you're so fucking desperate you'd fall for anything, wouldn't you?
"I even tried telling you," he went on. "I came right out and told you that I could turn on the charm when I wanted to. It was happening right under your nose, and you didn't even see it."
"So, all of that was just an act?"
"You were bringing me food and pussy. I'm willing to toss out a little bit of bullshit for free food and pussy." He thought for a minute before adding, "I really am going to miss the food."
She closed her eyes, trying to shield herself from the pain.
"That was a good pie, by the way. Shelby really liked it."
She
gripped the edge of the counter, releasing a heavy breath. Speaking deliberately, she annunciated, "Unlike you, I am not an animal, so I am giving you two weeks to find another place to stay."
"See, I don't think that's true," Dylan replied.
She looked at him, appalled by his nerve.
"Let me explain something to you," he began, walking toward her. Looking her square in the eye, he said, "You told me I could keep living here as long as I stayed out of trouble, and I've done nothing wrong." Inching closer, he asked, "What are you going to tell your husband? That I have to leave because I stopped fucking you and it hurt your feelings?" Taking a few steps back, he finished by saying, "I think your probation-officer brother would find that little factoid pretty interesting, too. Don't you agree?"
Her shoulders sank to the ground.
"So, here's what's going to happen," Dylan told her, leaning back against the counter again. "I'm going to keep living here. You're going to keep giving me rides. In fact, I'm going to keep driving your car. And you're still going to bring me food. And if all that shit doesn't happen, everybody's going to know exactly what went on between us."
"No wonder your whole family hates you," she whispered. "You're an asshole."
He threw his hands in the air. "Guilty as charged. Unfortunately for you, that's not a crime...so, from now on, we're doing things my way."
She hadn't slept a wink. Eight hours had passed by, but all she did was toss and turn, unable to get Dylan out of her head. She was torn between feeling like a fool and mourning what she thought she had just twenty-four hours earlier.
It had seemed so perfect. She should have known it couldn't have been real.
The relationship with his family—or lack thereof—should have been a big red flag. If Dylan was as sweet as he seemed to be, his aunt wouldn't have just handed him his bag of stuff through a crack in the door. His mother wouldn't have left him stranded on his eighteenth birthday. What a fool Melissa had been, believing in the plight of a con man because of his beautiful brown eyes.
She was going to miss those eyes.
If the person she saw the other day was the real Dylan, she wondered how so much ugliness could have been wrapped in such an exquisite package. Lies shouldn't have been able to sound that beautiful. That kind of cruelty should have been painfully obvious as the bullshit rolled off his tongue.
And there certainly was no way she should have still ached for him as strongly as she did.
He had been horrible to her. He had betrayed her. He had said some atrocious, hurtful things. But he also lit a fire in her that she hadn’t felt in ages. She’d felt alive with him. He had the ability to give her something that her husband couldn’t, and she wasn’t willing to give that up just yet. But it appeared she had no choice.
And she also had to drive him to work in an hour. With a moan, she got out of bed and headed to the shower.
She honked her horn from Dylan's driveway.
She felt ready to vomit; the last thing she wanted to do was see his face again. She wanted to leave him stranded, but the thought of him disclosing the affair was just too horrifying. If Dylan said anything, it could have ruined everything.
Instead, she would just have to tolerate looking at him.
When he didn't come out, she honked the horn again. Eventually, he sauntered out the front door, approaching her side of the car. She rolled down her window to hear him say, "I'm driving, remember?"
She closed her eyes with disgust, but she knew she needed to honor Dylan's wishes. Without a word, she got out of the car and let Dylan get behind the wheel.
Once she was buckled into the passenger seat, he glanced over at her and said, "That's better."
She didn't respond.
They drove down the road for a few minutes before Dylan asked, "So, what's my dinner tonight?"
Melissa looked out the window. "I don't think I feel like cooking."
"I think you do."
She remained silent, bobbing her foot.
"Shelby told me she likes Mexican food. You should bring us enchiladas."
Melissa folded her arms across her chest, trying to keep images of that beautiful blond girl out of her head.
Dylan kept talking. "She's good in bed, you know."
Melissa only closed her eyes.
“I’m serious,” he continued. “She’s a dancer. You should see how flexible she is. And she does this crazy thing with her tongue…”
"Why are you doing this to me?" Melissa turned to see him smile with satisfaction as he drove.
"Because I can."
Not another word was said until Dylan parked the car in a spot at the auto parts store. He removed the keys, handing them over, adding, "I like my Mexican food spicy."
He got out of the car and walked into the store.
Chapter 24
Just as she had done every day for weeks, Melissa stopped at the grocery store to pick up ingredients for Dylan's dinner. The difference was that this time she wouldn't be eating it with him. He'd be eating it with perky little Shelby, who was apparently good in bed. Melissa wasn't sure why that extra information bothered her so much. Dylan was clearly an asshole. There was no reason for her to even care about who was in bed with him, seeing him naked and touching his skin.
She recoiled at the image. The reality was, she missed him...or, at least, she missed what she thought she had with him. And even if the personality inside the body had changed, the body hadn't, and the sight of him still sent her into a frenzy, especially since she knew what that body was capable of. Dylan could do things to her that Jim hadn't done in ages, if ever.
She simply didn't want to end the sex, and she sure as hell didn't want another woman enjoying it...particularly one half her age with a tight little body that probably turned Dylan on a whole lot more than her own had. Melissa reasoned that she had experience, though, and this little trinket didn't. Dylan told her that Shelby was good in bed, but maybe he had just been saying that to get to her.
Melissa decided that she must have had a few more tricks up her sleeve than this Shelby character, and that, whether he wanted to admit it or not, Dylan was going to miss her touch.
That thought enabled her able to get through an afternoon of making enchiladas.
She sucked in a breath as she waited for Dylan to leave the auto parts store. The car smelled like Mexican food and pie, which she threw in as an added bonus to show just how unaffected she was by Dylan's attitude...and his new girlfriend.
At least, that was how she wanted it to appear. If living well was the best revenge, she was going to lead him to believe she'd become royalty.
She was already sitting in the passenger seat when he came out, acting like it didn't bother her. He opened the car door, which had been unlocked, and greeted her by saying, "Good girl."
Casually brushing the hair out of her face, she replied, "Why, because I'm letting you chauffer me around? I should be thanking you."
He turned the key and buckled his seatbelt, saying, "I see you remembered the enchiladas."
"Of course I did. I made a double serving. I've got a second tray at home for myself; the neighbors are coming over for dinner." Not a word of that was true, but he didn't need to know that.
He raised one eyebrow but remained silent.
She wished he didn't look so sexy doing it.
She crossed her legs and looked out the window as the car moved out of the parking lot, thinking that if she just kept her eyes diverted, she could potentially be less affected by him.
"I need to make a stop on the way home," he announced.
"Really." She made a sincere effort to sound uninterested.
"I need to go see your brother."
Her toes curled inside her shoes, but she otherwise didn't react. She wasn't sure what his plan was, and she wondered if he was going to tell George about the affair. She realized, however, that if he said anything, his free meals, house and rides would have been over.
He had too much to
lose by confessing.
That epiphany suddenly gave her new confidence. "Good," she replied, sounding unfazed. "I'd love to see George."
"Well, you're going to be disappointed, then, because I'm not actually going to see him. I'm just going to piss in a cup."
"A drug test?"
"No," he replied curtly, "I like pissing in cups."
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "You might pass this one, but good luck next time. I put weed in the enchiladas."
A smirk started to appear on his face, but he willed it away. "No, you didn't. You wouldn't even know where to buy it."
"Okay," she said with a shrug, "take your chances then."
She peeked at him again, but he remained straight-faced.
They didn't say anything else as Dylan drove to the probation office. She waited in the car and watched him walk into the building, upset with herself for still being turned on by him. She wondered if there was something inside of him that still wanted her, too. The sex between them had been undeniably passionate; she couldn't imagine the he could just flick that off like a switch and forget about her.
Her heart skipped a beat as he walked back out toward the car, although she wished it wouldn’t. If only she had control over her emotions, this situation would have been so much easier to handle.
She turned to face the window, not acknowledging when he got back. "That was fucking fabulous," he muttered as he started the car.
She didn't reply.
The ride was quiet, but she kept it a comfortable silence by deliberately remaining relaxed. She leaned back in her seat, acting like she was enjoying being driven around, tracing circles on the window with her finger. They remained silent until they arrived at Dylan's house. After he parked the car in the driveway, she didn't help him get the food out of the back. She simply watched as he gathered everything and balanced it all while walking toward the house.
"Hey," she called to him when he reached the front door.
He turned to look at her.
What She Needed Page 14
