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Dylan: Maybe just a little. ;)
The conversation died as soon as it had begun, as they usually did, but the anticipation was building so high that I didn’t care. I was going to see him, hear him, touch him, and for the night, he was actually going to bemine. And with that thought, I realized I had never felt he was, and although I knew we had never declared ourselves exclusive, I had foolishly seen it that way. It was sickening to think that he hadn’t been faithful, that maybe he had spent the past few months with other women. Kissing them with the same passion he kissed me. Fucking them with the same urgent desire he fucked me.
With the idea creating nauseous waves in my stomach, I wanted to text him and ask about his commitment to me or lack thereof, but every time I picked up the phone and began typing, I stopped myself.
I didn’t want to drive him away when he was all I’d ever wanted for so much of my life. And if I didn’t have him, in whatever capacity I had him, what else did I have?
***
When the day of the wedding arrived, I took my time in getting ready. I did my makeup as best I could while sending pictures to Tarryn and asking her to match the eye shadow to the lipstick. Then, I curled my hair and chose to keep it down, knowing how much Dylan loved it. The black chiffon dress was a little less fancy and far less expensive than the one I had worn to the award show, but I thought it was nice and accentuated my curves in a way I hoped Dylan would appreciate.
Then, I waited.
Always waiting.
It was what I did best.
As I sat on the couch beside my mom, she glanced at me and asked, “So, when’s Dylan going to be here?”
“Who knows?” I replied, then checked the time.
It was one hour until the ceremony.
“Don’t you have to leave soon?”
“Probably.”
“Does he know that Hollow Lodge is forty minutes from here?”
“I’m sure he does, Mom.”
“Maybe you should give him a call and see when he’s going to be here.”
I loved my parents in a fierce way, and I would defend them to the death. But there were moments when I wished they’d just leave me to myself for a few minutes, and this was one of those times.
“I’ll call in a little while,” I said, reaching into my purse for my earbuds.
I tuned out the judgmental commentary and my own worrying with some Thirty Seconds to Mars until, finally, ten minutes later, Dylan showed up.
The headlights on the shiny black BMW SUV streamed across the living room. I squinted into the blinding beams, trying to catch a glimpse of him getting out of the car, but I saw nothing but his dark silhouette pass through the light.
“Aren't you going to open the door?” Mom asked, glancing at me with a playful smirk.
I shrugged, injecting a little too much nonchalance to be convincing. Lord knew she was already aware of how giddy I was to see him again, and the second the doorbell rang, I sprang to my feet.
Blowing out a preparatory breath, I opened the door to a gust of cold late-autumn air and Dylan, looking positively sinful in a dark, dark suit and overcoat with his hair slicked back against the crown of his head. The garden lanterns lining the path to the door illuminated his figure in light, bringing to mind that Lucifer had also been an angel.
Nobody was going to believe he was with me, and the thought lifted the corners of my mouth.
“Hey, sorry I'm late,” he said the moment the door was open.
“Oh, it's fine,” I lied before pulling my coat on and telling Mom I was leaving.
“Okay, have fun!” she exclaimed a little too enthusiastically to sound entirely genuine. “Take care of her, Dylan. Don't speed!”
To say I was horrified was an understatement, and I didn't dare glance at him before saying something to her.
“Mom!” I spat.
