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But that’s okay.
I have something that will probably piss him off even more.
During the drive, when Dylan was sleeping, I was taking in my truck.
Taking in Dylan sleeping comfortably beside me.
Taking in the stickers decorating my back window.
Thinking about the days I once drove this beast of a truck, with my bike strapped in behind me.
“Tell me you didn’t love that more than acting.”
Acting was fun.
I loved being someone else.
But in the matter of two weeks I realized that I loved something else more.
And I know I could love someone more.
Already I can guess that the weeks apart from Dylan are going to wrack havoc on me. I met her at both the worst and best of times.
Worst, because I was locked into a job that will have me leaving her often.
Best, because there was nothing more that I wanted to be, than to be her rock. I want to help her through these next few weeks. I want to stand beside her when she welcomes her little boy into the world.
“Charleigh had the cleaners come through yesterday,” Dylan says from the passenger seat, her gaze on her phone. She texts a message back to Charleigh before slipping the phone into the door. “If you go up to the gate, I can give you the passcode to get into the garage.”
“Will I fit in the garage?” If there is one thing a lifted truck is bad for, it’s the inability to get into most garages.
Dylan scrunches her face as she thinks. “Eh. Maybe not.”
“Is there room to turn around, if we try?”
She nods. “Yeah. As long as someone doesn’t crowd in behind you.”
So, I try. And I make it into the garage by an inch.
Every level I travel, my antennae bings and bounces, and Dylan shrinks in her seat. “That’s really close.” She winces again as we go under another and I laugh.
“There’s plenty of room.”
As Dylan winces yet again, she directs me to a place to park. “My car is in my spot, but there should be a second spot next to it. We all have a guest spot, but sometimes my neighbors take it.”
I didn’t ask when we left the White’s house, but at the mention of her car, I decide to. “Who brought you to the house? Charleigh?”
Dylan nods. “Yeah. She wanted to settle me in.” She says the last bit with a small laugh, but I can see Charleigh doing just that.
After pulling my truck into Dylan’s guest spot, I help her down and grab our three bags of groceries. She reaches for the back door, but I stop her. “I can bring your things in later.”
“Okay. I just need my keys then.” She digs through one of her bags and pulls out her set of keys.
Arranging the bags to my left hand, I take Dylan’s right hand in mine as we walk toward the elevator. It’s not long before Dylan’s leading me into her small, and incredibly modest, apartment.
My place looks like a palace compared to hers.
And I suddenly hate my place.
