Page 102 of The Rules

“So what do you want then?” Cat asked.

Pain spread through his chest and his eyes burned. Why was she making him boil this down? Distill it into specifics instead of just this abstract idea that he could easily dismiss as not for him?

Why was she making himsayit?

“I just want someone to look at me the way you look at Josh. Like you trust him with your life and he’s worthy of it.”

“He is.”

Dylan nodded, her bluntness chastising him into a whisper. “And I want to look at someone the way Josh looks at you. With all that hope written right on his fucking face for everyone to see.” He laughed humorlessly. “I’ve been giving him shit for that for so long. That blind faith. I felt it, you know? With Dani—that hope. I just never let it hit my face.” His voice cracked, and he felt like his heart was being crushed like a tin can.

But Cat wasn’t giving him an inch. “That’s a choice,” she said. “You and I both know Josh has every reason in the world to doubt the future. We all have reasons if we want to dwell on them. He chooses to be all in every day. It’s terrifying and I don’t know how he does it.”

“I want to choose that with Dani.” His chest ached with how much he wanted it. When he’d watched Dani walk away from him, it felt like someone had blotted out the sun. He’d ruined it, just like he’d always suspected he would if he ever decided to go down that road with a woman—the one where he tried to be something he wasn’t sure he had in him. But he hadn’t expected the way needing to fix it would overshadow any sort of indignance he could claim for being right about love.

But he wasn’t right.

He opened his eyes to see Cat’s left hand moving slowly over her belly, Josh’s mother’s ring shining in the dim light of the bedroom. His parents weren’t the only example he had. Maybe he’d spent so much time giving Josh shit for his all-in, optimistic version of love because he was afraid to see it for what it was—proof that his excuses were bullshit. He had examples all around him now—good men, being adults, being responsible. So far it hadn’t killed any of them.

Love wasn’t about disappointing someone. That happened no matter what you called it. Love was about trying your hardest not to disappoint them, and showing up to fix it when you failed. It was about sticking around and promising to do better next time. He wanted so badly to make things better with Dani and that could only mean one thing. His stomach turned. What a thing to realize too late.

“If you want to choose that, Dylan, why are you here instead of there?”

“I can’t get in touch with her. She won’t take my calls. Besides, Josh pretty much ordered me to be here to make you food, so…”

Cat laughed, then she put her hand over his and her laugh turned to sniffling. “Shit.”

Dylan’s head sprung from her shoulder. “What? Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine. It’s just…” she wiped at her eyes. “God, I’m too pregnant for this. She’s going to Bartucci’s. On Main and Tenth. Damn it. She’s going to kill me. She’s going there tonight with someone from the app. A new guy.”

“What time?”

Cat rolled her lips inward like she was about to pivot.

“I’ll wait there all night if you don’t tell me.”

“Ugh! Seven.”

An idea hit him and he shot up to his knees, cupping Cat’s face and pecking the top of her head. “You’re an angel, Kit Cat.” He hopped off the bed. “I’ll get your dinner.”

Thirty-nine

The December temperature had droppedbelow average with the sunset, leaving a dusting of frost on the ground. The sound of Dylan’s boots crunched loudly in his ear as he trudged toward Bartucci’s. Inside, the warm orange light from a stone fireplace shone through the glass front. He could see the back of Dani’s head at a tall pub table in the corner, a glass of wine in front of her as she fiddled with the bracelet on her wrist.

Emotion punched at his chest. He knew the language of her body now, knew her tells—she was nervous. What he couldn’t tell from the way she kept lifting her glass then putting it down without taking a sip, using her fingers to smooth her ponytail, was why. Did she already like this guy? Enough to have first date jitters? Was she anticipating a bad time? Did she somehow know he was about to swoop in there and make a scene?

It occurred to him then that he had no idea what this guy he was there to intercept looked like. That was a minor detail that might prove to be a problem for his brilliant plan. But how many single guys in a certain age range could be showing up to this very date-like restaurant?

It turned out more than a handful. “Hey, man,” he said, catching a guy in a leather jacket on the sleeve as he passed.

“I don’t have any change,” the guy said, his eyes straight ahead.

Really?Dylan looked down at his pressed white button-up and dark wash jeans, his fucking two-hundred dollar shoes, and gaped at the guy. At least the dude who thought he was a pimp had looked him in the eye.

“No, I was wondering if you’re here to meet a woman named Dani.”

“Sorry. No.” The guy brushed off his grip and kept walking into Bartucci’s.

---