Page 80 of My Infatuation with Isabella

“Do you or do you not want the afternoon off?”

“Fine. I’m going.”

I pack up my stuff, leave it in my office, then head down to the lobby. No one is there, so I walk up to the reception desk and greet Darlene. “Hey, Dar. I thought someone was here to see me.”

“He told me to tell you to meet him outside.”

That makes me a little wary because if it isn’t Dylan, I’m going outside to meet a complete stranger all by myself. I have a mini-debate with myself, and eventually decide to bite the bullet and walk outside. I can’t say I’m surprised at who I find. It’s more my reaction that surprises me. I just start beaming. Wide smile. Heated cheeks. It’s embarrassing.

Dylan is standing outside the office block, leaning against his car. He’s wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a white, sleeveless T-shirt. That T-shirt fits pretty snug because I can see the definition of his chest and abs through it. His brown hair is wet and unkempt as if he worked out, had a shower, then drove straight here.

A wide grin breaks out on his face as I approach. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

He nods toward his Lamborghini. “Finally got my car back yesterday.”

“I see.”

He hands me a grey and white teddy bear wearing a red and black checkered dress and holding a red rose. “This is for you.”

“Thank you.” I don’t know why I feel like I’m in high school again, but I can’t stop blushing when I take it from him. “But...why are you giving this to me? Is this a late Valentine’s Day present?”

“Nah, I don’t need a special occasion to give a pretty girl a rose...or a teddy bear...Well, in this case, it’s a girl, so it’s a Rosy Bear, right?” He leans back against the passenger door, spreading his legs wide so that we’re eye level with each other, and then he pulls me closer to loop his arms around my waist. The movement is fluid as if he feels he has every right to hold me like that. “Oh, and arcto comes from the Greek wordarktoswhich means bear. The artic actually got its name because of the polar bears that live there. Phile is not a sexual fetish. It means a deep fondness for a specific thing. So, when you put it together, the word arctophile means someone who has a deep fondness for bears...and that makes perfect sense.”

I can only stare at him. When I mentioned that in therapy, I was just telling a story about how I got my current job. I wasn’t expecting him to pay such attention to the details. But that’s Dylan. He’s so thoughtful and attentive without even trying. He found out the origin of that word because it bothered me. I’m finding it difficult to fuel my animosity toward him. It’s fizzling very quickly. It’s even harder now that I know he’s not married.

A week ago, I was disgusted that he flirted so much, angered that he was trying to pursue me while still being married, yet he had no intention of telling his wife about us. It was a shock to the system when I found out he was divorced. It took some time to wrap my head around that, and now that it’s sunk in, those same things are just...sweet and charismatic.

This is why I let him believe I slept with another guy. Even with the secrets and lies, he has a way of reeling me in. I knew I would fall into that trap before, and I can see myself falling into it now. See, the problem is I’m weak when it comes to him. He shows me this side of himself, and I forget about how much he’s hurt me; how much he hides from me.

He grips my chin. “So, are you gonna let me take you out today?”

I cock an unimpressed eyebrow up at him. “I was supposed to go out with Brock today.”

“You want Brock from Lawng Island, sweetheart?” he asks, thickening his accent. “You got him. I’m gonna give you the best date of yalife. I’m gonna get you a hot dawg from dis nice, little bodega down the street. Not for nuthin’, but I know how to show a girl a mad good tym.”

And does that not get the most hysterical giggles out of me. “You are so cute!” It takes an insane amount of restraint to not grab his face and smack a kiss on his cheek. “Did you think of all of that bullshit on the spot when you called in today?”

“That wasn’t bullshit,” he replies, dropping the accent. “I exaggerated a few details, but it was all true. I had this chain...” He toys with the anchor pendent around his neck. “...instead of throw pillows, Justin Bieber instead of ASAP Rocky, and Bolognese and chili instead of pickles and peanut butter. I got it so bad for you.”

“Wow. I am melting...like all the cheese you just threw at me.” I’m not lying. I shake my head but still can’t get that stupid smile off my face. “Fuck, De Lorenzo. Just when I thought yougoudan’t get any worse.”

That cracks him up. Laughter bubbles out of him and I remember how we used to be. He turns slightly, and I notice a scar on his upper arm that I don’t remember seeing the last time...we were naked.

“What happened here?” I ask, lightly running my finger over it.

“Uh...I wasn’t lying when I said I got hurt and needed stitches.” That’s all her offer before he grasps my chin. “So? Can I take you out?”

I’m trying so hard to say no, stay firm on the promise I made to myself just two days ago – that I would not get sucked into his playful charm again, especially because he’s still being cryptic. But I just can’t seem to find the will to refuse. “Okay.”

“Good. And I have another gift for you.”

He opens the back door, and a young dark-haired woman is sitting there. I hadn’t noticed her because his windows are tinted, but I see the similarities immediately.

“Oh, my God. You got me a human,” I say, lightly rubbing her shoulder. “I love it!”

He laughs, his cheeks turning slightly red. “That’s my sister.”

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