Chapter 3
DYLAN
“ W hat’s Max like?”
I stared at Rowan’s face on my phone and pondered his question for a second before I answered. “He seems nice.”
Nice. And that, folks, is why I’m an actor, not a writer.
My initial nerves about working with Max hadn’t eased after we’d talked, and adrenaline coursed through my veins like liquid fire.
Unlike Max, who had appeared calm and confident, even after the run-in with the reporter.
I guess it finally hit me that this was all real.
I was about to put everything out in the open.
It had taken me years to finally work up the courage to speak to a therapist, never mind spilling my guts to a stranger.
And yet…something about Max’s eyes told me I’d be in safe hands.
I shook my head, hoping to shrug off the strange mood I’d been in ever since I saw him standing in the lounge.
“Nice? Come on, you can do better than that,” Rowan replied. “Give me the deets.”
“Ain’t nothin’ to go on about, Ro. I met him an hour ago. He seems like an interesting guy.”
I was underselling it. Words like smart and sexy flittered through my mind but I brushed them aside. I was totally downplaying how buzzed I felt, and there’d been no alcohol involved.
“But I think he’s questioning his decision.”
“What makes you say that? I bet he’s well compensated. And there are worse places to work than on a yacht in the south of France.”
“True.” I paused. “But some reporter tracked me down at the airport.”
“I could hire security if you’re concerned?”
“It’s all right. It was one pap. I’m probably overthinking it,” I responded. “Enough about me. How’s married life?”
Like I needed to ask. Rowan was all smiles, all the time.
“Amazing, wonderful, dreamy.” He laughed. “I don’t think there are enough words.”
“All right, all right, stop rubbing it in.”
“Sorry, Andrew’s the only one allowed to do that,” Rowan chuckled. “Speaking of which, here comes my sexy husband now.”
“Hey, Dylan! Y’all set for your trip?” Andrew smiled as he sat down beside Rowan, gently running a hand through his husband’s blonde hair.
The two of them practically glowed through the screen.
Since Andrew ran a concierge service, he arranged the hires for our time on board the yacht, as well as all our travel.
Rowan’s husband was scary efficient. Most of all, he was a genuine, caring person and had become a close friend.
I was truly blessed to have both men in my life.
“I am. We should be taking off shortly, unless my ghostwriter ghosts me and takes off before the flight does.”
“It’ll all work out. Isn’t that what you told me not too long ago?” Andrew winked. “Ro and I can’t wait to meet up with you in a few weeks.”
“I’m looking forward to the visit.”
“Did you do any sightseeing in New York?” Andrew asked.
“Nah, I kept a low profile. Not that it did much good. A reporter tracked me down at the airport like a hungry hound dog after a big-ass bone.”
“Are you okay?” Andrew replied.
“I’m fine. Warren saved the day. It’s been great to chat, but I better let you guys go. We’re taking off shortly.”
“Safe travels. Reach out if you need anything. Anything , Dylan,” Rowan said with a concerned expression on his face.
“You got it. I’ll talk to you guys soon.”
Next on my list was a call to my sponsor. There was a seductive, fully stocked bar in the cabin whispering my name, promising me immediate relief for my anxiety. And all the uncertainty that lay ahead was wreaking havoc with my control.
As I tapped my phone, I thought about the last AA meeting I’d attended, before I flew out from California.
The musty smell of the church basement—burnt incense and polished wood floors—reminded me of my childhood Sundays. Those days stood firm in my memories and a shiver racked my body despite the warmth of the room.
I nodded to everyone seated and cleared my throat. “Hi, I’m Dylan. I’m an alcoholic. I’ve been sober for two years and six days.”
I shoved aside the conflicted feelings about my past and faced the demon in my present. One day at a time.
MAX
“What the fuck do you mean you’re on your way to France?” Dante yelled and I held the phone as far away from my ear as possible.
My ex-husband had a habit of forgetting important details. Well, only when it came to me.
I plugged in my earphones so I could talk to him hands-free and get some work done at the same time. If only the massive headache that was now upon me would hold off.
“I told you twice about my writing contract. Blake is in summer camp until August 6 th and then you have her for two weeks like we planned. And then I’ll be back on August 20 th . What’s the problem?”
“What if Blake has an emergency? You deal with that sort of thing. Why can’t you just work from your home office?”
I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath, willing myself to stay calm.
“You’re her father too, Dante. Do what I do and handle it. If there’s something urgent, I’ll fly back. And I already told you I can’t work from home for this project. Don’t ask me why, because I’ve signed a non-disclosure agreement.”
“I have a catering business to run! I thought you were taking her for one of those two weeks in August.”
“I wanted to, but you insisted on having her for both weeks. Remember?” I bit out.
Did he ever listen to anything I said? Given the circular nature of our arguments, the answer was a resounding no.
“This is just like you, Max. Putting your work before our child. And me.” He paused. “I think it’s best that she stays with me full time starting in September.”
“Don’t start that again, Dante. She needs to see both of us on a regular basis.” I shook my head. “I’ve always put Blake first. Always. And you don’t factor anymore.”
I threw the stylus I was holding and the snap as it hit the table in front of me was satisfying. But it did little to settle my anger. Fuck, I hated fighting.
“You’re such an unfeeling jerk! No wonder I turned to someone else. You may have more degrees than I do Max, but you need a crash course on how to be a real partner. You never had time for me. Never!”
Dante’s neediness was nothing new. I’d thought adopting a child together would bring us closer, but the opposite had happened. Dante’s number one priority was always himself, and when I stopped focusing all my energy on him, our marriage fell apart.
“If there’s nothing else, I’d like to speak to Blake,” I snapped, ignoring his baseless accusations.
“She’s in the shower. I’ll have her call you when she gets out.”
“Thank you.”
I hung up and looked out the window, willing my blood pressure to lower.
Once I was calm enough, I turned my attention back to my laptop. I opened one of my manuscripts and began to edit, getting lost in my characters’ lives and forgetting my own.
I selected my favorite playlist and let out a sigh, enjoying the soothing strains of the music. Glancing around the cabin, I conceded that it was bigger (and better decorated) than my apartment on the Upper West Side.
My phone pinged with a notification, and I glanced at the message.
It was from my fuck buddy, Iain, asking if I was available to meet up. He was handsome and energetic, but I made it clear from our first encounter that I was only interested in sex. I didn’t have the time or inclination to indulge in a relationship. Not now. Maybe not ever again.
Max: I’m out of town. When I’m back in late August?
Iain: I have to wait that long? I miss our sexy times
Speaking of sexy…my mind conjured up broad shoulders and a biteable ass. Only it wasn’t Iain who was spread out naked in my imagination, it was Dylan. He was a sex symbol for sure with those tempting eyes and a lush mouth that was made for sucking and fucking. Stop it, he’s your client.
Yes, my client. Work, remember? That’s why you’re here.
Even if my work did involve his sex life. Or rather, writing about it.
I thought about Dylan’s earlier suggestion that I’d be shocked by his stories, and it made me laugh.
I’d experimented a lot after my divorce—threesomes, foursomes, sex clubs—hell, I probably had more sex stories than he did.
Not to mention I’d interviewed and written almost a dozen celebrity autobiographies.
You name the vice; I’d written about it.
Iain: Video call? It’s been so long
Iain was getting on my nerves. We’d fucked a month ago, so it hadn’t been that long at all.
Max: No. You have plenty of others to play with
Iain: But you’re my favorite
Max: No exclusivity, remember? Go out and have fun. Later
Iain: Later, baby
Ugh. I cringed when I saw the word ‘baby’ and was tempted to tell him to remove it from his vocabulary.
He better not use it the next time we fucked, or my erection wouldn’t last. I hated cutesy romantic nicknames, in addition to any form of PDA.
In bed or out. Another point of contention with my ex.
I looked at the time and noticed that Blake hadn’t called back yet, and I needed to speak to her before takeoff. I dialled Dante’s cell again and expected him to answer but Blake picked up.
“Hey, Dad. Please, please, can I go with you to France instead of heading to camp? Dante doesn’t mind.”
Blake was a sharp kid. While she knew that Dante loved her, she was also aware that he wasn’t the most attentive parent on the planet. Calling him by his first name was her act of rebellion to get his attention. The teenage years had unleashed.
“The plane is ready for takeoff, Blake, so unfortunately the answer is no. And don’t you want to spend the summer with your friends?”
“Yeah, but France is way cooler.”
“Maybe when camp is over you can come visit me for a week in August?”
“Not the same thing, Dad.” She sighed loudly and I rolled my eyes.
“And I’m not on vacation for the next month, I’m working.” For the most part. I’d have some downtime, but I wasn’t sure how far from the yacht I was going to stray.
“If I can’t come for the summer, I’ll take your week in August.”
“Okay, negotiator. Put your Daddy on the phone please.”
Thirty seconds later, Dante’s voice blasted through the phone.
“What?”
“Did you hear her part of the conversation?” I asked.
“No, I was working.”
“She’d like to visit me in France for a week in August when camp ends.”
“No way,” Dante huffed.
“You already said you didn’t want her with you for two weeks, just one. This solves that problem.”
“You’ll be working, how will that be time spent with her?”
I swallowed down my growl of frustration. “The first draft of my project will be done by then. And if not, even if I work for a few hours a day, we’ll still have plenty of time together.”
“No.”
I ran a hand through my hair and tugged. No doubt I’d have a bald patch by the end of this phone conversation. “Okay then. Put Blake back on.”
I could hear Blake’s raised voice in the background.
“Call you back soon, Dad.”
A minute later, my phone pinged.
Dante: Blake can visit you for one week. Arrange the travel. And while you’re away, I want daily updates. We’ll talk when she gets back. It might be best for her to stay with me full time come the school year.
Another reminder that the custody battle with my ex was never over. Putting my worries about that aside, I turned my attention back to the reason I was on this plane to begin with. After all, if I didn’t get this book done, Dante’s threat might be fully realized.
I’m sure most people would consider spending the summer (even a working one) with a celebrity like Dylan Aylmer a great adventure.
Me? Only time would tell.