Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Eden
Butterflies flit in my stomach as I approach Dylan’s building.
I’ve been thinking about him all day. It’s impossible not to.
We had another incredible night last night.
After we made love, we both fell asleep. I woke to the sound of my phone ringing.
Dylan didn’t budge so I unraveled myself from his arms and sought out my purse.
The call was from Noelle. She was worried that I wasn’t home, and since she hadn’t been able to reach me for hours, she stopped sending unanswered text messages and called me instead.
I could hear the anxiety in her voice. I knew it wasn’t all about me being MIA, so I took to Dylan’s closet to find something to wear home.
I couldn’t believe my eyes when I spotted his old high school football jersey.
I slid it on over my bra and panties and left his apartment.
The look on Noelle’s face when I finally got home was one for the record books.
She didn’t ask anything after getting a glimpse of the name stitched on the back of the jersey.
COLT.
We spent the next two hours talking about her dad, her work, and a cute guy she met on the subway.
We finally called it a night at three a.m., but not before promising each other that we’d have dinner together this coming week.
I slow as I get closer to Dylan’s building when I spot his familiar frame standing outside the doors with his back to me.
The man can work a pair of jeans and a black sweater just as well as a tailored suit.
I’m glad I opted for casual tonight too. I’m wearing faded, ripped jeans and a black blouse. I don’t want a repeat of last night’s saucy mess, so I choose a dark color to camouflage any potential food clumsiness on my part.
“Dylan,” I call out his name.
He turns instantly, a bright smile taking over his gorgeous mouth.
His phone is to his ear. I watch as he says something I can’t quite make out before he tucks the phone in the front pocket of his jeans.
He rakes me over. “Great minds think alike.”
I laugh. “You can’t go wrong with jeans and a black blouse for a date.”
The last word floats off my lips so effortlessly.
We’re going on a date. I’m on a date with Dylan Colt.
“Or a black sweater.” He pinches the front of his V-neck sweater. “Are you hungry?”
“Famished,” I confess, rubbing my stomach. “I haven’t eaten all day.”
I wait for the expected comment about him not eating pussy all day. It was one of his tried and true lines when he was eighteen.
My reaction would always be the same. I’d grimace and shoo him away with a swat of my hand on his shoulder. Secretly, I longed to feel his mouth on me. I envied every girl who had been with him.
“I made a reservation.” He gestures down the sidewalk. “It’s just a block over.”
I don’t bother asking what we’ll be eating, because I don’t care.
The details don’t matter.
What matters is the way he’s looking down at me. It’s the same way he looked at me when I was seventeen, and he was the boy I wanted more than anything in the world.
“Pancakes for dinner might be the best thing ever.” I laugh as we exit what can only be described as an elegant breakfast retreat.
It’s a tiny place just off Park Avenue that serves decadent breakfast staples to a discerning dinner crowd.
There’s no jacket or tie requirement and you won’t find an imported bottle of beer there.
We sipped on mimosas and ate the most delicious pancakes slathered in berries and a bourbon maple syrup glaze.
Candied bacon was the side.
I’m stuffed and happier than I’ve been in a long time.
“It’s one of my favorite places in the city.” Dylan turns to face me. “I’ve never brought anyone here before.”
Something sparks inside of me.
Joy or relief, maybe it’s the satisfaction of knowing that he chose to share a special place with me.
“They need to open a location in Buffalo.” I laugh. “I’d never have to cook for myself again.”
His brow furrows. “Do you live alone?”
I nod. “It’s just me. No cats or dogs. No birds. Absolutely no roommates.”
He chuckles. “Your dad used to say that he expected you to take care of him when he retired. I always pictured him living under the same roof as you once he gave up coaching. Did he settle in Buffalo too?”
It’s been years, but some grief can’t be measured in time. It burrows into a spot inside of you and never leaves. That’s how it was for me. How it still is.
“My dad died,” I manage to say in a soft voice. “He’s gone.”
Dylan’s hand darts to his mouth. His eyes widen in shocked disbelief. “What? When?”
“Three years ago.” I look up at the lights of the city trying to find my center.
I still cry but only on days that remind me of him. His birthday, my birthday, the day my mom died when I was ten-years-old.
He never fully recovered from her death. At times, he’d wish that cancer would claim him too. It did.
“How?” Dylan’s head is shaking back and forth in denial.
Every player on my dad’s team had a place in his heart. Dylan was included in that. They may not have always seen eye-to-eye, but my dad would have done anything for Dylan. He saw potential in him and all the boys on the team.
“Cancer,” I give the short answer because the details of the treatments, the suffering, and the last agonizing months aren’t important to anyone but me.
I was an only child.
“Eden.” His hands leap to my face. He cradles it in his palms as he gazes into my eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
I swallow back the urge to cry. I see the same pain in his eyes that I felt when the doctor told me that my dad was gone. I was holding his hand. I heard the unmistakable sound of the monitor when his heart stopped, but still, I hoped.
I prayed for a miracle that never came.
“I wish I would have known,” he says on a heavy exhale. “Fuck. I should have known about this.”
“You know now,” I offer quietly. “He always told me to remember the good times. He’d want you to do the same thing.”
His gaze drops to the sidewalk. “He was an incredible man. One of the best.”
He was. He was my hero. He’ll always be.