Chapter 24
CATARINA
“How do you like my bean?”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not yours.”
“True, but since I’ve lived in Chicago for eight years, I consider it partially mine,” Dustin said as we looked at it.
The bean was a giant mirror-coated structure in Grant Park of downtown Chicago.
“Now, it’s obligatory that we take a selfie,” Dustin said, pulling out his phone and wrapping an arm around me.
“I thought you were anti-selfie.”
“Usually I am. But we’ll need this to show the grandchildren someday,” he winked.
I shot him a confused look, and he snapped the picture anyway.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” he said as he pulled up the picture. “Your confused face is my favorite.”
“You’re weird,” I laughed.
“You’re just figuring that out now?”
It was late Monday morning, so the crowds were gracefully thin. We went ice-skating at a public park, then got some hot chocolate and walked along the shore of Lake Michigan.
“So . . . about last night,” I started to say. We hadn’t really addressed everything that happened.
“I was into it,” he said, sipping the hot chocolate. “Were you?”
“Into what?”
“The bunny stuff. I think we should try that again. Maybe I can play along too. I’ll put on a big bad wolf costume.”
I sighed. “Not that. I just wanted to say, I’m glad we cleared things up. I’m sorry for automatically assuming you were ready to have some other girl over.”
He gave me a kiss. “Thanks, babe. That means a lot. Like I said, I take this temporary arrangement very seriously.” A cool breeze blew off the lake and into our faces. The hot chocolate was hitting the spot.
“You keep saying that. I do want to know about this mysterious girl she mentioned, though.”
“Which girl?”
“The girl Jenny mentioned who stole your heart. Who is this girl? I’m not really jealous, just curious,” I said, trying to deny the fact that I could feel jealousy bubbling up in me.
“It’s . . . a long story,” he shrugged. “I was younger when I knew her. Cupid’s arrow hits you harder when you’re younger. I really did like this girl . . . but it was just a silly crush. I think I just didn’t get over it because she ghosted me.”
“That doesn’t happen a lot to you, I’m guessing?”
He shook his head. “But it wasn’t just that. It was . . . a lot of things. Look, it was almost ten years ago. Jenny only remembers it because I was in college with her and I got drunk one night and ranted to her about it.”
“So you’ve known Jenny a while?”
“Like I said, we went to OSU together. She’s a good person. She’s out there, of course, like me. Which is why we were good friends.”
“And you dated?”
“Using the term ‘dating’ loosely.”
“She said you ‘dated,’” I made quotations, “so that you could get over this alleged girl you were with?”
We came to a portion of the pedestrian walkway along the lake where it was blocked off.
“All done,” he said, bringing his hot chocolate paper cup in a nearby trash can. “I’ll call us a ride home from here.”
I scoffed as he whipped out his phone. “So . . . are we done with this conversation too then?”
“Ride’s coming,” he said, putting his phone back in his pocket. “Be on the lookout for a grey Hyundai.”
“So that’s a yes. We’re done.”
Dustin scrubbed a hand across his newly shaven jaw, then stepped toward me, wrapping his gloved hands around my waist.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m not trying to be a dick here. I just don’t think it’s necessary for me to go digging into my past. You don’t want to know about every woman I’ve ever been with. I mean, do you want to tell me about every guy you’ve ever slept with?”
“I lost my virginity at grad school when I was twenty-three, to a stranger I never saw again,” I said, “and I’ve slept with seven—”
“Ride’s here,” he pointed and led me to the car, opened the door, and let me in.
“To Lakeview, Mr. Dustin?” the driver said with a Spanish accent.
“Si,” I said. “Vamos para la casa de él.”
“Ah, muy bien! Hablas Espanol. De donde eres?” the man asked me.
“Espana.”
“Pues bienvenidos a Chicago. It’s a very good city.”
I made small talk with the driver as we headed back to Dustin’s place. Dustin put his hand on my inner thigh and stared out the window.
As much as I liked to think we were turning into some semblance of a real couple, there was no denying that his feelings were frozen in by some icy veneer.
Though he smiled softly, I could feel his body chilling over.
Now I didn’t doubt that as much fun as we had, I was competing with the ghost of some woman he knew almost ten years ago.
Part of me didn’t even believe that guys as good looking, with as many options as Dustin had—for goodness sake, he had old college flings showing up naked at his house—even suffered heartbreak.
But there it was, the melancholy written all over his face.
I continued making small talk with our driver, and after a couple of minutes, he asked the most poignant question. It was a question just like children ask, that cuts to the core of issues.
“Entonces, este es . . . tu novio? Tu marido? Otra cosa?”
So, is this your boyfriend? Your husband? Something else?
Something else, something crazy, I was about to say, when Dustin surprised me.
“Soy el marido,” he said, then looked at me and winked. “So don’t get any ideas, buddy.”
“Oh, I see,” the driver said, and obviously tensed up a little after that.
When we got out in front of his house, I gave him a puzzled look. “Really? Do you have to be a dick to the driver?”
“A dick? I was just telling him we’re married. He was pseudo-hitting on you.”
“He was just being nice. You wouldn’t know about that, though.” I put my hands on my hips and shook my head as he turned the key in his lock.
“Go on,” he said. “Ask me the other question you’re thinking right now.”
I sighed. “Okay, where’d you learn Spanish?”
“I hired a tutor,” he said. “Because we’ve got to have the Skype conversation with your family soon, right? I don’t want to be totally in the dark.”
Just when I thought I had Dustin LeBlanc figured out, he pulled another trick out of his hat. Still, something in my gut told me I needed to find out who this girl from ten years ago was. If it was still affecting him, I needed to know.
He had a skeleton in the closet. Fair enough.
We all had one or two, right? What fun was life without them?
But I was falling for Dustin in a way I couldn’t quite explain, or articulate.
This was getting into dangerous territory, because I was starting to realize I couldn’t stop myself around him, the present moment being a perfect example.
“So,” he breathed against my ear after we had finished taking off our snow-covered boots. “That ice-skating and walking really worked up my appetite. I think I need a Kit Kat.”
“I thought you didn’t eat candy in-season,” I joked.
He took my coat, hung it up, and then took hold of my hips, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I wasn’t talking about candy,” he said, his eyes locked on me like lasers.
“I know,” I whispered.
He kissed me and guided me to his sofa, and it’s a damn good thing I wasn’t chocolate. Because I would have melted right into the white fabric of his couch. What a mess that would have been.