Page 20 of Love.V2
I tried not to think about Dylan as I crunched across the parking lot, utterly failing like I had been all day, and yesterday, too. And all the other days this week.
In the last six months, I’d indulged in my fair share of late-night fantasies of Dylan busting in and confessing how he’d made the mistake of his life and wanted to be a better man. In those fictional scenarios, holding on to my righteous indignation and remembering how he always prioritized his work over me, it was easy to come up with a scathing response to his fictional groveling.
But in all my imaginings, I hadn’t accounted for his face when he told me he wanted another chance. There was a reason I’d left without saying goodbye. One look at him, and I crumbled.
Because no matter how many times I told myself we’d been unhappy, that he’d hurt me beyond repair, there was a part of me that still loved him. That would always love him.
Now, after months without him and what felt like years of him slipping away, he was just there all the time. Lavender lattes, my favorite salads, pastries, and organic smoothies magically appeared in my office throughout the day.
It was hard to hang on to my resolve to be mad at him when suddenly he was here—for me—giving me the attention and consideration I’d been missing for a long time. For crying out loud, he had left his whole life in Nashville behind just for a chance to talk. None of it seemed like the actions of the man I’d left in that cold house in Tennessee.
Every day I softened a bit more toward him, and that seemed dangerous. It had been so long since I felt like he cared, and he was wearing me down.
Did I owe it to myself to hear him out? To hash out our history and where everything went wrong? Probably. But the possibility terrified me. I wasn’t sure which outcome would be worse: if we decided our relationship was really dead, or if we tried to give it another shot, and I ended up hurt again.
I grappled with it, going back and forth and back and forth. I knew I had every right to tell him I was done and had nothing more to say to him and that he needed to catch the next flight home. But he’d asked me if I was happier here, and I wasn’t. I should probably talk to him. Or maybe the will-they-won’t-they stuff was messing up what little peace I’d recovered over the last few months, and I needed to tell him to take a hike.
I was stumped and desperately hoped a workout and a talk with a friend might help me decide. It wasn’t something I could bring to Vanna. If she found out I was thinking of giving him another chance, I’d be in for the lecture of a lifetime. In her mind, he had hurt me, so we hated him. End of story.
The reality was more complicated, and I needed to get some distance from it all. As I opened R3’s door, I resolved to do just that: try and put Dylan out of my head and gain some much-needed perspective.
Except the man himself was standing in front of the desk talking to my trainer, Will, and my stomach bottomed out. A grin lit Will’s face when he saw me.
“Livingston! I was gonna send out a search party. Haven’t seen you all week.”
“Uh, yeah. Lots going on. You know how it is.” I attempted a weak smile that felt as shaky as the rest of me, but my eyes were snagged on Dylan. He held up his hands, speaking before I could.
“I didn’t know you’d be here, I swear.”
“How…what are you even doing here?” The panicked, happy, hopeful feeling of seeing him was becoming more familiar. At least I wasn’t fully hyperventilating, which was an improvement over earlier this week.
“Meery said this place was good. She mentioned you came here sometimes, but only in the mornings.” The pained sincerity on his face told me he was telling the truth. That, and seeing him in a familiar, ratty WTU shirt, was a sledgehammer to the walls I’d been carefully keeping up. He looked surprised. Flustered. Out of his element, which was endearing, somehow. “I really didn’t think you’d be here.”
“You guys good?” Will addressed both of us, but he was staring at me, the question clear on his face.Is this guy bothering you?
“No. I mean, yes, we’re good. We’re…Dylan is a friend of mine. I’m just surprised to see him, is all,” I assured Will, shuffling a little closer. My relationship with Dylan was complicated, but he wasn’t dangerous. To me or anyone else.
“I can just go. I don’t want to butt into your personal life. Work is enough, don’t you think?” Dylan’s mouth hooked in an unsteady smile that didn’t reach his eyes. It wasn’t a good joke. Only a painful reminder of the not-so-distant past when he’d been the cornerstone of my personal life.
Now, we were strangers. I didn’t even know what he’d been doing this week in Chicago. I assumed it was bleak. Alone in a strange city, probably in some mediocre hotel room, filling his time with work and wondering if I was going to tell him to scram. The thought hurt.
I lefthim.I’d reminded myself of that often over the last few days. But something about the visual of him going back to his cold hotel room, probably with a crappy gym in the basement, without even getting a workout in, was too much for me to take.
“It’s okay. We’re professionals at work. We can handle a workout class.”
Dylan paused on his way out the door, just inches from me. “You sure?” It was the hope in his voice, so soft and hesitant, that sealed the deal. I met his eyes. Warm chocolate with too many emotions layered behind them.
I cleared my throat. “Yeah. Will puts on the best class. I know it’s full, but do you have room?” I asked my trainer.
He was still eyeing the two of us, but more relaxed now. “Obviously.” The warm-up mats were already teeming with bodies, but Will didn’t seem concerned. “I always save a few spots for my favorite regulars.”
“Don’t let Lainey hear you say that. You know she considers herself your most favorite,” I joked, trying to break some of the tension, only to realize my mistake. Lainey had just broken up with Will’s brother, Sam, hence her SOS text today. She wasn’t doing well with the split. Will’s wince told me Sam wasn’t, either. “Sorry…”
“Yeah.” Will waved me off. “I hope those two crazy kids can make it work. I’m Will, by the way.”
“Dylan.” The two men reached across the check-in desk to grasp hands. They held on for a beat too long before Dylan pulled back. “You have a water fountain?”
“Sure man, right there.” Will pointed across the room. I watched him walk away, an unexpected and unwelcome flutter of attraction tickling my belly when I noticed just how well that old t-shirt molded to his body. I shook my head to snap myself out of it. When I turned back to the counter, Will’s face was wary. “Isn’t your ex’s name Dylan?”
