Page 57 of 50 Ways to Win Back Your Lover

Of course it was Sandra who sleuthed out my location. “The rumor mill is as legendary as always. And you don’t have to apologize. We were all hurt by what my father did.”

“You didn’t deserve that parade of hate, E. Not when what happened probably hurt you more than it hurt us. But you’re right about the rumor mill. I also heard Delilah’s frantically looking for you.”

My heart kicks back into cheetah-sprinting speed. It’s already midday. I didn’t plan to be gone this long. “I should’ve left a note or something. It just all hit me so hard.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.” He crosses his arms, banging the heels of his boots into the rock wall. “You showing up here makes more sense now—turning up out of the blue, insinuating yourself back into Delilah’s life. You lost her as suddenly as she lost you. I assume she hasn’t told you about the ex yet?”

“She’s Fort Knox. Her dedication is impressive.” While there haven’t been fake-wedding meetings the past week, and she hasn’t let another “ex . . . tra nice” blunder slip, this stunt of mine, taking off without considering her feelings, might have set us back. I don’t know what I was thinking, not talking to her first.

Avett rubs his chin. “I’m not surprised she hasn’t cracked, and what I said still stands. A lot went down after you vanished. I’m rooting for you two, but you need to give Delilah whatever time and space she needs. The idea of being with you again won’t be easy for her.” I open my mouth to ask again what everyone’s keeping from me, but he holds up his hand. “Don’t ask. It isn’t my story to tell. But don’t you dare disappear on her again, even for a run or mental health moment, especially when you’ve been hit by a grenade like this crap your father pulled. She’ll assume the worst, and I will lose it on you. If you hurt her, I hurt you.”

The Avett of my youth wasn’t this much of a badass. Aside from stealing booze from his father and mutilating stuffed animals, he was a bookworm who read more than he spoke. I appreciate his badass-ness, though. I love him for protecting Delilah, even if it means protecting her from me. “I hear you loud and clear. Any chance I can get a lift back?”

My mind isn’t as on fire as when I left. There’s still a lot to process, like imagining the exact ways I’ll torture my father if I ever see him again, but I want to be with Delilah while I decompress, have her hand pressed to my chest, easing the pain of the rocks scraping my heart.

“I can drop you at home,” Avett says. A sentiment that winds me. Home. Delilah and Windfall are once again my home. “But roll the window down. You smell like shit. I’ll call Delilah and let her know you’ll be back soon.”

By the time I’m standing at my apartment door, my neck and back are clammy from the dried sweat on my body. Or is that the sense of impending doom sucking the heat from my blood? My shins certainly hurt from me kicking myself repeatedly for leaving here without a word.

Delilah will be furious. She should be furious.

How could I have been so insensitive?

Steeling myself for the worst, I ease the door open. Candy Cane’s already at the entrance, tail wagging, body wiggling, ready to forgive me for running without her, zero grudges held. Dogs really are the best. Actually, no. Delilah is the best—the woman who rolls with my stupid jokes and makes life hopeful again. She turns me on with one flirt of her fingers, inspires my creativity, and sasses me the way I love to be sassed. She’s part of all my Bests and all my Worsts. She’s everything I want, and when I see her sitting on the couch—deflated, not angry, sad, not furious—my gut caves into a sinkhole.

“I shouldn’t have left like that. I was just out for a run, needed to burn off my frustration, but I ended up at the quarry, and . . . I don’t know. I just couldn’t move. I didn’t think about how leaving without a word would affect you. I should’ve thought. I’m so sorry, Delilah.”

She leans her elbows on her knees and rubs her forehead. “It shouldn’t be a big deal, but it is. With our messed-up history, it really is.” She looks up, fire in her eyes. Like she’s the winged albatross in my sketches, regal and fiercely courageous. “You can’t disappear like that, E. Not when you’ve been dealt a blow like this morning and I have no clue how it’ll affect you. Letting you back into my life has been hard, but you’re here.” She jabs at her chest. “You’re in here. And thinking you might have taken off, out of anger or frustration or whatever—I can’t go through that again.”

As much as I want to go to her, hug her and tell her I’ll never be this dumb again, I heed Avett’s ever-present warning and give her space. Plus, I smell like ass.

Instead of infecting my pink furniture with my odor, I sit on the floor cross-legged. Candy Cane plops down beside me—man’s best friend, regardless of my stupid choices. “You have my word. I won’t disappear on you again. I don’t always deal with family stress well, and I don’t like the idea of you seeing me lose it, but you’re my best friend, Delilah. Always have been and always will be.” I swallow roughly and drop my voice. “I promise I’ll treat you with the respect you deserve.”

Tears glossing her eyes, she nods. “Are you okay?”

“No. Not really.” There’s no point lying, not when I need to earn her trust.

“I hate him for hurting you like this. And for what? To earn some cash?”

I pick at a rock lodged in my sneaker’s sole. “I’m somewhat numb when it comes to my dad, but I’m sick for my mother. I don’t know what this book will unearth, if he’ll talk about wild cartel parties or reveal that he had an ongoing affair with Staci Wilcox.” The supposed secretary who introduced him to the world of money laundering and betrayal. After learning of her involvement, I couldn’t help but wonder if she used sex to lure him in. Not that it matters now.

I rest my elbows on my thighs, feeling too heavy to support my upper body weight. “I think, when the dust settled, that part hit Mom the hardest—feeling gullible, never realizing her husband was a mastermind criminal. And I’m sick for Desmond, who already hates himself. If Dad brings us into the book, talks about our toughest early days when he was still around, I’m scared what it’ll do to all of us, but Des in particular. So yeah. I’m furious with my father. I hate him for the shrapnel his choices caused, the fallout that still lingers. His actions hurt so many people in so many ways.”

Delilah presses her fist to her mouth, like she’s struggling to keep it together, then she wipes her eyes. “He caused a lot of damage. Things he’ll . . .” Her voice falters, cutting me deep. “He’ll never grasp the repercussions of his actions. But I’m here for you,” she says more firmly. “Seeing you hurting hurts me too, and I want to help any way I can.”

Instantly, I know. Whatever she’s still hiding from me, she’s not staying quiet just to protect herself from reliving the details. She’s worried the details will hurt me. That I’ll melt down and run off again, like today. Which means I need to get my act together. “Can I still make you my famous orgasmic lamb curry? Tomorrow instead of tonight?”

She lets out a watery laugh. “I’d like that.”

All I’d like is more of Delilah in my apartment, giving me hell for my bad choices, offering me comfort just by sitting on my couch. “Can you believe how messed up my life is?”

Me with cartel ties and a fake name, Delilah pretending she’s engaged to make sure we take this reunion extra slow.

Her lips part like she’s about to reply, but both our phones ring. We stare at each other a moment, then she grabs her phone from the coffee table. I stand and hurry toward mine on the kitchen counter.

It’s my agent. Cursing under my breath, I answer. “Hey, Margot.”

“Brian, hey. Just wondering if you’ve heard from Sathya yet. I got another fishing email from Josh.”