Page 109 of My Infatuation with Isabella

“Shit, you’re calling me Dylan now?” His exasperation causes his voice to increase in pitch. “No, Bella. This conversation isn’t serious enough to warrant you calling me Dylan. This is just a misunderstanding. The use of my name is not required. I know what happens when you start calling me Dylan. It leads down a road to a breakup and no...that’s not happening today.”

“What breakup? We’re not together. We never were. We’ve never had a relationship. Fran gets fancy titles likegirlfriendandwife. Not once did you ever refer to me as anything more than an arrangement. I get called the ten-month fling.”

“Oh, my...Oh. My. God!” He rakes his hands through his hair and just gapes at me, stunned. “I’m honestly shocked at how easily you cheapen everything we have. I’m fucking divorced! I’m not sure if you were paying attention in therapy, but how I feel about you played a big part in that. I have been pursuing you formonths, climbing over every obstacle you’ve thrown at me, telling you constantly that I’m in love with you, and you have the fucking nerve to stand there and tell me that I don’t see you as anything more than an arrangement. Really? Where the hell is all of this coming from?”

“It’s coming from a place of realization. I thought...I really thought I could do this. You have a way of making me feel like nothing exists except us. And when we’re in this bubble...this little air pocket you created, everything is perfect, and I forget that an entire reality exists outside of it, a reality that I’m not a part of.” I blink a few times, trying to compose myself. “Hearing that voice note makes me realize just how little I know about what goes on outside of the bubble. It makes me realize that beneath the layers of cheese and soppy, cute stuff...I still only have three rooms. I feel like I’m living in the Truman show.”

His brown eyes darken, a sign that his temper is rising, and his hands curl into fists. “You’re letting one voice note about a misunderstood conversation make you doubt everything.”

“It’s not about whether I misunderstood. I believe you when you say that you were speaking about getting back together with me and not Fran. My issue...” I pause, trying to think of what exactly is troubling me. “My issue...is that you make me feel like we have this amazing connection, but you don’t want to connect with me, not on a deeper level. Even today...at the shelter, something bothered you there, but instead of telling me, you just shut me out...again. Today I was ready to put the past behind us...but the past isn’t behind us. It still keeps coming up in the present. I can live with a few secrets, and I fully respect Dana’s privacy. This is not about that. This is about you and yourchoices. Francesca is always going to be the one you turn to. I said this when we were teenagers and it’s still true now. You and I don’t share the same bond that you and Fran do.” I shake my head because I can’t believe I was stupid enough to get sucked into the same delusionsagain. “I want you to leave. Just leave...and don’t come back.”

Silence. Nothing but silence for a solid minute. His heavy breaths and tight jaw show that he’s pissed off, but he waits for me to change my mind or take back what I said. When I don’t, he gives a stiff nod. “Sure, Bella.”

Without another word, he walks out and slams the door shut behind him. I walk to my bedroom and drop onto my bed. I feel like I’m trapped in a whirlwind, spinning in confusion. How does he do this to me every time? It’s so easy for him to keep me in the dark. He’s so good at hiding things from me. I’m never the wiser. It feels so surreal, like he’s living a double life and I only see one side of it. It’s like I thought I knew him, but that voice note made me realize that I don’t know him at all. I don’t know about his past. I don’t know what goes on in his life. I felt exactly the same way the day I found out about Dana and what really happened during emotional hangover week.

While I respect that there are some things he can’t tell me because it involves Dana, him talking to Fran has nothing to do with Dana. What happened at the shelter had nothing to do with Dana. He should’ve talked to me about that. His parents moving or whether he moves with them was never mentioned. Maybe it seems insignificant, but how the hell does Fran know and not me when I speak to him every day? These small things accumulate and become a whole life he’s living without me.

I can see that this road is going to end up in the same place it ended before, and I just need to get off before I invest too much and get hurt again. I was wary to go into this because I knew that Dylan was such a strain on the heart...and yet I still got sucked in. The highs are so high, but the lows are so very low, and I can’t do that to myself again. If I didn’t feel so utterly depleted, I would probably cry, but I’m so numb that I just curl myself into a ball and count each aching beat in my chest until I fall asleep.

* * * * *

I’M STARTLED AWAKEby a hard thumping on my front door. I grab my phone to check the time and it’s almost midnight. Very slowly, I drag myself out of bed and make my way to the front door.

“Who is it?” I call out.

“Who else could it be?” is the snappy response I get back.

With a frustrated groan, I open the door and glower at him. “I thought I told you not to come back.”

“I thought I made it clear that I’m not giving up no matter what.” He pushes me back a step, comes inside, and shuts the door behind him. “If you thought that little hissy fit you threw earlier was enough to push me away...you’re very wrong. And about that hissy fit, it was a little over-the-top, don’t you think? This is why I told Dr. Burkman that therapy doesn’t work. Please explain to me how we went through sixteen sessions, and yet it didn’t even make a dent in your crazy.” He pauses, waiting for a response as if that was a legitimate question, and when I remain quiet, he continues. “My mistake was that I broke the first rule and entertained the crazy. Whenever I do that, things get out of hand, so before we continue this argument, the first thing on the agenda is a hug.”

“What?” I shake my head and stare at him in utter disbelief. “No.”

“C’mon.” He spreads his arms and calls me closer with his fingers. “Just a quick one. You need it. I need it. Let’s just hug.” He takes a step toward me and pulls my arms around him. Gripping me tight, he lowers his head to nuzzle the side of my neck. A breath of relief washes over my skin and he gives me a small squeeze. “Sometimes you get so mad that you forget how right it feels when you’re in my arms.”

This man! He has such a hold on me that just those few words get me to surrender, and I melt against him. He keeps me in a tight embrace until the tension leaves my shoulders. He’s right. I needed this, but I’m still angry when he lets me go.

He takes my hand and leads me to my bedroom. “So, full disclosure,” he says, kicking off his shoes as he unzips his jeans. His T-shirt comes off next, and he tosses it on my bed. “The reason I’m so late is because I had a long chat with my sister, but before I came here...I went to see Fran first.”

I throw my hands up, my temper instantly flaring. “Of course, you did...because Fran always comes first. She’s always the priority.”

I turn to storm out of the room when he grabs my wrist and yanks me right back. The amusement in his eyes is in sharp contrast to my annoyance.

“I went there to make it very clear that I wasn’t talking about her and...that I think we should cut all ties completely. If we see each other at family events, we can greet and let that be the end of it.” His hands slide down to my jeans and he unzips it. “It took me a very long time to learn this, but I realized today that you and Fran can’t co-exist in my life. My friendship with Fran ruined my relationship with you and my total obsession with you ruined my relationship with Fran. So, I had to choose.”

This surprises me, and I don’t know why I feel compelled to ask this, but I ask it anyway. “Was she...was she hurt?”

“Yeah. It hurt her to know that I moved on so quickly. We were together for almostfiveyears and it’s not even eighteen months after our divorce. I did the one thing I didn’t want to do...but it needed to be done. Dr. Burkman said that I shouldn’t let guilt dictate my decisions, and I should put my happiness first, so that’s what I did. Thankfully, Fran is a level four, so she wished me the best of luck, and that’s how we parted ways. I’m taking this off.” He hooks his thumbs in the waistband of my jeans and tugs it down.

“What are you doing?” I’m utterly confused as he takes it down my legs.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he takes off his jeans, then sits down on the middle of my bed, and pats the spot in front of him. “Sit right here.”

I’m reluctant at first but the look on his face lets me know that there’s no point in putting up a fight because he’ll get me to do it, eventually. I relent and move to sit about a foot in front of him. The distance is too much for him because he leans forward, grips me around the waist, and pulls me closer until I’m nestled between his legs. That isn’t enough, though because he spreads my legs and pulls them around either side of him. The hair on his legs tickles the back of my thighs, but I don’t shift away because even when we fight, Dylan still needs to feel intimacy and closeness.

“That’s better.” Both hands slide up my thighs to rest on my hips. “Now, I want you to understand something. I love Francesca...very much. I always will. And you were right in saying that you and I don’t have what Fran and I have...had. You can’t replace who and what she was in my life. The bond we had is just different, but...but the same applies the other way. Fran can’t replace who and what you are in my life. And the problem is...Fuck, I can’t believe I’m gonna say this...” He scrubs a hand over his jaw and draws in a sharp breath. “The problem is, I tried to do that. You left this...thisholein me, and I tried to replace the love I feel for you with the love I feel for Fran...but the two are not the same...so it didn’t work. And I didn’t use Francesca as a rebound or a substitute. It’s just a simple fact that there isno onelike you, so any other woman was bound to fall short.”

I heard what he said, but given everything that has happened, I don’t necessarily believe him. “But you trust her in a way that you don’t trust me. You open up to her because?”

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