If only he hadn't been such an irresistible asshole, his future might have looked entirely different.
After looking online, Melissa realized it may have taken weeks for the fingerprint results to come back. Crime shows on television were definitely misleading. There was no way she would have been willing to look at Dylan's face for another day, let alone weeks. God only knew how many women he would have slept with in that time. She couldn't stand to think about at all of those pretty young faces and tight little bodies, knowing they were touching him in ways she couldn't.
That just wasn't going to happen.
She picked up her phone, dialing.
"Hello, my favorite little sister," George said cheerfully when picked up.
"Hi, favorite brother," she said solemnly.
"Uh oh," he said. "What's the matter?"
She let out a sigh, acting like she was having a difficult time with what she was about to say. "I don't even want to tell you."
"Oh, God. What's wrong?"
"It's Dylan."
"Oh, dear. What happened?"
After a long, dramatic pause, she admitted, "Well, right now it's only suspicion, but I've had some jewelry taken from my house."
"What makes you think it's him?"
After another theatrical sigh, she said, "He had complimented my necklace one night when I brought him dinner. I mentioned that it was nothing special and that my good stuff was in my jewelry box at home." She sounded distraught. "I-I-I guess it was foolish of me to tell him that. I wasn't thinking that he was sending out feelers. I thought he was just being nice."
"The fact the he knows you have a jewelry box doesn't mean he stole from it."
"That is true," she replied, "but there is one other thing."
George sounded apprehensive. "What?"
"The detectives found a long hair in the jewelry box. It's the same length and color as Dylan's."
"Shit," George muttered. "That is a little less promising. Although, I'm still hoping it's not him."
"I am, too," she told him.
"I guess it's time for me to pay a surprise visit to our friend Dylan...see if I can find anything."
"He's at work right now. I'm supposed to pick him up at five."
"Not tonight, little sister," George said. "Tonight, I'm the one who's going to be picking him up."
Chapter 30
Melissa wrung her hands as she paced. Dylan had gotten off of work an hour earlier; if anything was to happen, it would have been going on at that moment. She was desperate to know what was unfolding over there, but she didn't dare call.
So she just waited.
"I don't know how you're so calm," she said to Jim, who sat at the kitchen table on his laptop.
"I'm not calm; I'm busy," he replied, barely looking up. "I've got to get this presentation done by morning...in England. That means it has to be done by midnight here."
Melissa wished she was busy. If she had something to occupy her mind, she might not have been going crazy at that moment. However, as it was, she could only wring her hands continue to pace.
Her phone rang, causing her to suck in a breath. She looked at the caller, seeing it was George, but she waited a couple of rings before answering to make it seem like she wasn't quite so eager. "Hello?"
"Hey, little sister." His voice sounded sad.
"Hey. What's up?"
"Well, the good news is I found your credit card and jewelry."
"Uh oh."
"Yeah. The bad news is where we found it...Dylan's kitchen cabinet."
Melissa could barely breathe. "Oh, no. I was hoping that wasn't going to be the case."
"You and me both. The police came out, and they just left with him." He let out a sigh. "I was really hoping things wouldn't end this way."
"Me, too." She clenched her hand into a fist as she asked, "What did he say about it? Did he confess?"
"No," George replied uncomfortably. "He didn't. In fact, he made some pretty absurd accusations."
"Like what?"
After remaining silent for a while, George eventually asked, "Is Jim home, or is he away?"
"He's home. He's in the kitchen." Melissa's pulse was racing. "Why?"
"I have some things I need to tell you, but I don't want to say them over the phone or in front of your husband. Are you free to go get dinner?"
"Sure," she replied, "I'm always up for dinner with my favorite brother."
"How about I meet you at Gino's in twenty minutes?"
"That soon?" she asked. "It must be serious."
"Honey," he told her, "you have no idea."
Melissa plastered on her best carefree smile when she greeted her brother in the lobby of the restaurant. After hugging him and kissing his cheek, she noted, "You look troubled."
"I am troubled."
"You're scaring me."
George held up his hand. "There's nothing to be scared of. I just have to tell you some things I'd rather not say."
The hostess approached them and led them to a table. They sat down and George asked, "Do you want to just split a pizza?"
"Sounds good to me."
"The usual?"
"Yup."
"Okay, that was easy." He interlaced his fingers in front of his mouth and shifted in his seat. "Now for the not-so-easy part."
Melissa didn't say anything.
George opened his mouth to speak but then closed it again. Pursing his lips, he thought for a moment before beginning, "I told you that we found your jewelry at Dylan's house..."
"Uh huh."
"And you know as well as I do that he stole it."
"Uh huh."
"That's not the story that he told."
Melissa's acting skills were being tested. "What did he say? I mean, how can he deny stealing them when you found them at his house?"
Looking ashamed, George replied, "He claimed you planted it there."
"Planted it? Why on earth would I do that? I was trying to help him."
"I know. It's ridiculous. But he told this elaborate story about why you would want to frame him."
At that point, the server came by and took their order. Once he left, Melissa asked, "Okay, what reason did he give for me wanting to frame him?"
Reluctance was obvious on George's face. "I hate to tell you this, but Dylan claimed that the two of you were having an affair."
"An affair?"
"I know," he replied immediately, holding up his hands. "I didn't believe a word of it, don't worry."
"I should hope not."
"Well, I didn't. But Dylan's claim was that you were upset because he ended the affair, so you planted your jewelry there to get him in trouble."
"You know I wouldn't do that..."
"I do. But I guess now I understand why his aunt doesn't like him. Apparently, he's a pathological liar. You should have seen the way the lies rolled off his tongue. If I didn't know any better, I may have been convinced he was telling the truth."
"That's so strange. And scary," Melissa replied, sounding in awe. "He seemed like such a nice kid. I wouldn't expect this kind of behavior out of him."
"I agree; it's disappointing," George said. "Although, in my line of work, nothing is really surprising."
"So, did the police say anything? Did they seem to be giving any merit to his claim that I framed him?" She used finger quotes.
"They only told him that they'd take his statement down at the station. But they arrested him, so I guess that means their first inclination is that he's full of shit."
"I should hope so."
"Again, I'm so sorry."
She dismissed the apology with her hand. "It's not your fault. But, my God. I tried to help that kid, and he turns around and tells this story?" She acted appalled. "I'm glad people aren't believing him...I mean, it could have ruined my marriage. It could have ruined my life."
"I know," George replied, shaking his head. "It's upsetting."
The server appeared with their drinks. After th
anking him, Melissa turned to her brother. "You know, I have to say...I'm a little scared. I can't really prove we didn't have an affair. I did spend a lot of time there talking with him. It's really going to be a matter of my word against his." She gave her best frightened look as she added, "What if this gets back to Jim? What if he believes what Dylan's saying?"
"Jim won't believe a word of it."
"What makes you so sure?"
"Dylan is a career criminal. You are his wife of, what, ten years?"
"Eleven."
"Even better." George reached out and took her hand. "You've got nothing to be afraid of. There's no way anybody's going to believe Dylan's word over yours."
She sat up straighter, pointing at George with her free hand. "The fingerprints!"
"What fingerprints?"
"The detectives collected fingerprints from my living room window, which they believe was the point of entry." She looked like she was thinking. "Maybe those will come back matched to Dylan, and then I'll have proof that he's lying."
"Honey, we all know he's lying."
She smiled, but then she lowered her shoulders. "Now for the big question...what's going to happen to Dylan?"
George took his hand out of hers and ran it through his hair. "Nothing good. He was on thin ice already." He raised his eyes to meet Melissa's. "If those fingerprints come back matching his, it's pretty safe to say he'll be going away for a long time."
Chapter 31
October
Melissa looked at her beautiful, healthy baby boy as she rocked him in the nursery. She adored everything about him—every little finger, every little toe, his head full of dark hair. He had only been in her life for a week and a half, but she couldn't have been more in love with him if she'd tried.
As the baby nursed, she remembered her thirty-eighth birthday—the day she found out Dylan was going to be moving in. Up until that day, she had been growing increasingly convinced that she would never become a mom. The years were ticking by. Time was running out. She'd been trying to get pregnant for a decade, but Jim's low-motility sperm proved to be too much of an obstacle. But here she was, less than a year later, holding the baby she thought she'd never have. She couldn't help but smile.
Her eyes scanned the room. Everything was blue; she'd been able to decorate months earlier because she and Jim had found out he was going to be a boy. They even had a name picked out well in advance: James David Jr., but they were going to call him J.J. for short. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, the baby had been named after his father.
She hummed as she stroked J.J.'s soft hair. It was black, just as Dylan's had been. He had Dylan's brown eyes, too. She rested her head back on the rocking chair, thinking about what Dylan may have been doing at that very moment. She didn’t know how many privileges he was allowed in prison, so she wasn't sure if he was reading, napping or just staring at the ceiling, consumed with regret, wishing he could go back in time and undo the day he'd fucked with Melissa.
The judge didn't have much mercy on Dylan at his trial a few months earlier. He'd screwed up one too many times, so he was sentenced to eight to ten years in prison. Every once in a while, Melissa felt bad about that, but she ultimately decided he deserved it. He may not have actually stolen anything from her, but he had been an asshole to her, and that was enough to condemn him, as far as she was concerned.
He simply shouldn't have fucked those other women.
As much as she tried not to, she did find herself missing his touch. Even though Jim had proved to be a good provider, he didn't have the same effect on her that Dylan had. His body wasn't the same. His hands weren't the same. His mouth wasn't the same.
No part of him was the same.
Melissa often relived those moments she had shared with Dylan. She would close her eyes, remembering his touch, often using her own fingers to replicate it. Sometimes, as she rested her head on her pillow at night, she pretended that Dylan was there beside her instead of Jim. The reality was, in spite of herself, she missed him.
Every now and again, she regretted putting him in jail. However, she knew she was glorifying the situation. Even if he hadn't been in prison, he would have been refusing to touch her. That would have been even more painful than knowing he was be behind bars. He would have inevitably been cycling through an endless supply of tight-bodied, beautiful young women, and Melissa simply couldn't have that. She was much better off with him in custody, having no access to women, inevitably thinking about Melissa daily because she was the reason he was there.
Using her finger, Melissa released the suction J.J. had on her breast, and she put him on her shoulder to burp him. As she patted his tiny little back, she worried about what was going on inside his head. She wondered if there was going to be something wrong with his wiring, just like Dylan and, apparently, Dylan's father. She feared that this baby was going to grow up troubled despite her best efforts to raise him otherwise. Although, even if J.J. ended up being like his real father, she knew she'd be able to handle herself. While Dylan may have been a charming little con artist, he had nothing on Melissa, as evidenced by the fact that he was sitting in a jail cell while she sat rocking the baby she had always wanted.
She smiled as she decided that not many people would have been able to mess with her. She made sure of that after her horrible experience with Jacob. He may have hurt her, but she learned to never make herself vulnerable after that. There was no more blind trust. There was no giving up control. There was always a plan B, which she could execute at will.
She just wished that she hadn't enjoyed Dylan so much. That was the one piece of the puzzle she hadn't counted on. She was supposed to fuck him, get pregnant, and then decide if he was going back to jail or not. She wasn't supposed to fall for him. It scared her a little bit that she had become susceptible to getting hurt. That was never the plan. After Jacob, she vowed that she would always remain in control, in every aspect of her life. She had become dangerously close to losing her power when she was with Dylan. It amazed her how much his brown eyes and magical hands destroyed her resolve.
The doorbell rang, which Melissa wasn't expecting. "We have company, J.J.," she said as she stood up out of the rocker. She walked to the front door with the baby making squeaky sounds in her ear. It seemed he wasn't done eating, and he was beginning to voice his unhappiness about that.
She opened the door to find George with a giant smile on his face. "There's my baby J.J." He walked inside and gave Melissa a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Does this mean he's actually awake?"
"He is," Melissa told him. "Would you like to hold him for a minute before I finish feeding him?"
"Of course Uncle George wants to hold him. Give him here." George reached out his hands, and Melissa placed J.J. upright into his grip. He spun the baby around and put him on his shoulder, just like Melissa had been doing. "He's so tiny," George commented. "It's hard to believe any of us were ever this small." He gently took a seat on the couch.
"He wasn't even all that small. Eight pounds is a good sized baby."
"I know." He stroked his hand up and down J.J.'s back. "So, did Jim leave yet?"
Melissa nodded solemnly. "He left this morning. He promised me he wasn't going to be traveling quite so much after the baby came, but he's already gone. At least now I won't be home alone; I've got that little guy right there to keep me company."
"Yes, you do," George replied. "Let me see him. He's only ever been asleep when I've held him." He lowered the baby onto his lap, cupping his tiny head in his hand. "Hi there, J.J, it's your Uncle George."
Melissa smiled. She simply adored her brother.
"Oh, there are his eyes. Hi, buddy. Yes, look at those..."
George froze.
Melissa immediately panicked, rushing over to take the baby. "What's the matter? Is he okay?" She scooped him out of George's arms and inspected him.
"He's fine," George assured her, but his face indicated something was horribly wrong.
; Melissa looked at her brother. "What has gotten into you? Why did you scare me like that?"
With his face more serious than Melissa had ever seen, George said, "You didn't pay attention in biology class, did you?"
"What are you talking about?"
"The eyes." He walked over to Melissa, getting in her face. "Your eyes are blue. Jim's eyes are blue. This baby's eyes are brown."
Although her breath caught for a quick second, Melissa calmly said, "So?"
"I suppose you're unaware," George continued slowly, "it is genetically impossible for two blue-eyed people to have a brown-eyed baby."
Melissa didn't say a word; she simply held on to the baby.
"Oh. My. God," George said, his face expressing his epiphany. "Dylan was telling the truth."
"You're wrong," she replied, shaking her head. "You must be remembering it wrong. Biology class was a long time ago. This is Jim's baby. I never slept with Dylan."
"You set this whole thing up, didn't you? All of it."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"The house. The desire to help a troubled young man...you did tell me it needed to be a man. I should have known something was up." He walked away, placing his hands desperately on his head. "I was part of this. I'm the one who hooked you up with him." His eyes were wide. "I helped put away an innocent kid for eight. Fucking. YEARS!"
Melissa couldn't stand to hear him shouting. "No. It's not true..."
"BULLSHIT!" He pointed in her face. "That baby is proof!"
Tears started streaming down her cheeks. She was horrified that her baby was going to be taken from her. "George," she pleaded, "please don't do this. This is Jim's baby. I promise this is Jim's baby."
George wordlessly paced the room, wiping his hands down his face. The only sounds that could be heard were Melissa's shaky gasps for breath and the baby's occasional fussing. She was at her brother's mercy.
She was never supposed to be at anybody's mercy.
"This is what's going to happen." George said slowly. "You are going to call the police, and you are going to tell them what you did."
What She Needed Page 18
