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Dylan: Oh, come on. You don't get to act like that anymore. You've known me for months.
Me: No, I know. I'm just saying, a year ago, I wouldn't have believed any of this would happen at all. So, don't feel pressured to get me anything. I just want you there—that's all.
Dylan: If you say so …
Dylan: But I'm still getting you something.
***
“Girlie-girl!”
Ever since we had barely been out of diapers, Tarryn and I had been conjoined at the hip, and when we were apart, we called each other all the time and texted even more often than that. And seeing her now, after months of living in her absence, instantly brought tears to my eyes.
She ran from the sleek black car and threw her arms around me with such force that the air left my lungs. “Oh my God, look at you,” she said against my shoulder. “You're so happy—I can tell.”
“Life is good,” I agreed, hugging her tighter than she hugged me, as if it were a contest.
“Is everybody else already inside?” she asked, letting go and stepping back. Her gaze was aimed over my head at Vincenzo’s.
“Yeah, they're waiting for the table to be ready,” I replied. “Well, everybody, but Dylan. He's not here yet.”
Slowly, she turned her head to look at me, her wide eyes lined heavily in darkness. Her lashes were too long and thick to be natural, and even I could tell her cheeks were coated in too much blush. She had gone all out with the makeup today, and I wondered who she was trying to impress.
“You didn't tell me you invited Dylan,” she said, her voice nearly a whisper. “Why the hell would you invite Dylan?”
“I know what you're gonna say,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “But Peter already knows about him, and he's my friend, so—”
“Oh, your boyfriend knows you hooked up with your hot rock-star guy friend?”
“No, but—”
“Oh,” Tarryn replied with a snort. “This is gonna be good.”
I fought the urge to grit my teeth and clench my fists as I insisted, “It's going to be fine, and Peter doesn't care if I have guy friends.”
“But he has no idea that you had crazy, passionate sex with this particular guy friend,” she reminded me, tapping my nose with her long, manicured finger. “And I guarantee he's going to find out.”
“Only if you tell him,” I pointed out, two seconds away from anger. “And you’d better not, Tarryn. I swear to God.”
She dropped her jaw, insulted by the comment. “Lenny! Come on! You know me better than that. Of course I won't say anything.” Then, she cackled as she swung her tiny sequined purse over her shoulder. “But I'm telling you right now, he's gonna know.”
With that, she told me she'd see me inside and headed up the steps outlined in lights, leaving me to wait for Dylan alone.
The restaurant had required most of the party to be inside, waiting for the table, in order to hold the reservation. It was for the better, I thought. I couldn't worry my bottom lip and pick at my freshly manicured cuticles if someone were out here with me.
Sometimes, she drives me crazy…
I had been fine these past couple of weeks, waiting for my birthday to roll around. Peter knew of Dylan's existence, and he was fine with Dylan coming to dinner. But not once had it occurred to me that he'd be able to sniff out our history like a damn bloodhound. And what if he couldn't, but Dylan said something? What if he implied it with a colorful joke or a salacious wink? Or worse, what if my parents or Connor let it slip?
Fuck, I didn't even think to warn them…
This was a mistake.
Without wasting another second, I pulled my phone from my bag and began typing.
Me: Hey, it looks like dinner is off. The restaurant couldn't get a table big enough, so we decided to
“You're standin' out here by yourself?”
