Chapter 46 – Dylan
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
DYLAN
“So? Was it as embarrassing as you thought it would be? It would be a great present for Grant, but not with this prego body.” Emerson laughs as she rubs her belly.
I purse my lips and think of yesterday’s photo shoot. The first hints of mortification. Then the glass of wine that slowly put me more at ease with each sip. The chatter of the stylist and makeup artist, and then when I was finally in front of the camera—when it was just Marcy and me—how it wasn’t as bad as I feared.
But that isn’t to say the pictures will be anything worth looking at.
“It was . . . it was something I think every woman should do at least once in her life—a face-your-fear thing—but mind you, I’m saying that before I see any of the photos.”
“I’m sure that they will turn out wonderfully. How can they not with you as the subject?”
I roll my eyes. “Like I said, I’ve yet to see any pictures.”
Petunia comes into the kitchen and pushes her snout against my leg. My eyes sting with tears, and I keep them aimed down at her as I try to rein in the emotion.
Emerson reaches over, puts her hand over mine, and squeezes. “You doing okay?”
I nod and swallow over the lump in my throat and the unexpected emotions overwhelming me. “I’m good,” I lie. How have these people, this family, become so important to me when four months ago I didn’t know them at all?
“So what? You’re going to leave just like that? Pack your stuff and walk out without ever looking back?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t say anything at all, actually.”
“I have a life to get back to, Emerson.” I hate sounding like a broken record—pun unintended. Or maybe it’s only broken in my head, because that’s what I keep telling myself every time I hope Grady will ask me to stay.
“That’s such bullshit, and you know it.”
“What?” I laugh the word out in defense.
“This pregnant woman is moody and emotional so don’t play the innocent game. I pushed Grant away. I know what it’s like to want more but terrified to ask for it.”
“It isn’t the same thing. You two knew each other before.”
“And? Are you telling me that just because you didn’t know Grady before you can’t want to be with him now?”
“It isn’t that way.”
Her chuckle is low and borderline incredulous. “Then if it isn’t that way, why didn’t you leave today? Why are you waiting until he’s off shift tomorrow to spend one last night with him before you go?”
“Because I want to see him.” I scratch the top of Petunia’s head, still avoiding Emerson’s gaze. She’ll see right through me, because a woman in love can always see when another woman is denying their own.
“You’re actually going to sit here and lie and tell me that when you leave here, you’re not going to leave any part of yourself behind, aren’t you?”
“Emerson.” Her name is a sigh. A plea. A question.
“Whatever.” She scoots her chair back, walks across the kitchen to the counter, and grabs the calendar. She’s back at our table in a second, flipping through the months until she gets to August. She tosses it on the table and jabs her finger at it. “You’re telling me you’re actually going to walk away from this? Look at that man, Dylan. What do you see in those eyes of his? I know what I see. I see a man who’s in love and can’t admit it. I see a man who needs a bit more patience and then maybe he’ll realize it.”
“I can’t live my life in maybes, Em.”
“Oh, sweetie, I know, but you also can’t live your life in what could have beens either.”
Her words strike me to the core and cause the foundation I’ve been standing so defiantly on to tremble and crack.
“Why are you being so adamant about this?”
“Because I almost threw love away. I tried to run, hide, lie to get out of it...and damn it if Grant wasn’t persistent. And thank God he was. If he hadn’t been, I would have made a huge mistake. And I can’t stand by and watch someone I love miss out on living that same dream with you.”
“Whoa.” I hold my hands up. “No one said we were that serious.”
“No one had to.”
“It doesn’t matter if he loves me or doesn’t love me. He’s told me he’ll never change his mind. He’s never going to settle down and bring the burden Brody and Shelby live with upon someone else.”
“Then fight for him, Dylan. If he’s worth it, fight for him.”
“How?” There is so much frustration in that one word, and I’m not sure what else to say.
“Just fucking fight.”
* * *
I stare at the ceiling. I’m surrounded by everything that smells of Grady—his sheets, his pillow, his T-shirt I’m wearing—as Emerson’s words ring in my head.
Over and over.
Grady is worth fighting for. But do I give up my life in Los Angeles on a wing and a prayer? Do I step away—step back—from my life once again for a man and put mine on hold?
It would be so easy to. Simple really.
But what does that say about me?
What does that mean when I put my career second again because of a man?
I close my eyes and try to sleep. But all I see is Grady.
All I want is Grady.
And I know this is going to be one of the hardest things I’ll ever do—walk away—and not because I don’t love him, but rather because he doesn’t love me enough to ask me to stay.