Chapter 11
Later in the evening, I sit out back on the outdoor patio of the chalet. Caleb and Lauren are still cleaning up after dinner, and I sense that they need the time alone. They’re giggling and laughing, snuggling up to one another like lovebirds. Dalton went into his room to tend to something for work, and since hanging out in the living room would make me feel like a third wheel, I escaped outside.
A small fire burns in the air-flow firepit, and with a bottle of wine, I sigh and sink into the cushions on the lounger. Silence surrounds me. The only music I have as a soundtrack to my relaxing moment are the crackles and pops of the fire and the distant calls of the wild. Overhead, a navy-blue sky full of stars covers me, and I can’t help but feel like a small speck in a grand, vast universe. Just me and the world.
I could get used to this.
I tense slightly when I hear the sliding door open, but it’s only Dalton, not the couple who’s goofing around so loudly inside. Since I told him the truth, I feel different about this tall man. Actually, I’ve been on edge with him from the moment he cut me off on Meadow Lane. I still don’t feel like I’ve gotten to know him any better than before. If I did, would I lose some of this guardedness I feel toward him? Am I going to be like this with all men, hating and grumbling about every man because one—Jeremy Freaking Klein—ruined my future?
That wouldn’t be fair, would it?
Dalton sits next to me, saving me from having to answer myself. His presence pulls me out of my head, and when I hold up the bottle of wine and he nods, I pour him a glass. Words aren’t necessary, and I kind of like that. He’s not a hard man to appease. He’s not coming out here seeking conversation or trying to get in my space. Dalton is a rare gem in the way he understands the quiet is okay, too.
We relax in the quiet, sipping wine, and then his phone ends that peaceful spell.
It buzzes and he grumbles under his breath. My first thought is that something else has popped up with his work, but he slides his phone back into his pocket after a hasty glance at the screen.
He’s avoiding something there, and I suddenly want to know what.
“What was that about?” I ask.
He grunts, drinking his wine instead of answering.
Well, I can’t hold that against him. He doesn’t have to tell me. I don’t feel like I’m being overly nosy. I did share with him earlier, telling him about my predicament, but that doesn’t mean he necessarily should be obligated to return the favor.
Then he gives in, sighing before reluctantly admitting, “That was my ex.”
I raise my brows as I stare at the sky. “Oh.”
“She’s been texting me.”
“A lot?”
He nods. “Even once would be too much.”
Yikes. I feel like I might have stumbled upon what makes him so default grouchy.
“So…it’s not a good thing?”
“No.” His voice is flat and hard, but this time, his ire isn’t directed at me. “She cheated on me.”
My shoulders sag as I turn toward him. Sadness and sympathy wash over me, and I wish I wasn’t so stuck in avoiding him that I could offer him a hug. I sigh, hating the pain in his simple reply. My heart—guarded or not—hurts for him. “Do you want to talk about it?” Maybe that’s the best I can do, be a sounding board for him to vent to.
I’m surprised when he seems to take me up on that offer. He stretches, propping his feet up on the side table as he gets more comfortable on the lounger and relaxes against my side.
“I found her sleeping with one of my main business rivals. She told me she was staying late at work because I was tied up with a meeting that turned into a dinner party. Someone was retiring at my offices, and it was a good excuse to hang out at my workplace. It didn’t take all night, though, so when I headed home, I wasn’t counting on seeing her in my bed with him.”
“You lived together?” I ask.
He nods.
“It was serious?”
Again, he bobs his head. “We were together for four years. Caleb used to say she was crimping my partying style and that she was going to end my bachelor days. She almost did. I planned to propose to her that very night. After the retirement party, I realized life is short. Seeing my colleague leave his career reminded me that I was only getting older. So I decided as I rode the elevator up to my penthouse that I would pop the question that night.”
This is terrible. “Dalton. I’m so sorry.” How awful, to head home so full of hope and excitement, only to find it ending. It had to be similar to when I received the call about my parents’ car crash. One moment, I was looking forward to the future, the next, I was devastated.
Loss is hard.
“She confessed to sleeping with him—in addition to a few others, too—for a long while. It cut me deeply, and I’m still not sure how to move on from such a severe betrayal like that. Johanna wasn’t a fling. We were a couple for years, but I was the only one who valued it.”
“That’s not right.”
He sighs again, gazing up at the sky with a pensive expression. “I’ve sworn off dating since then.”
“When did you break up?”
“A year ago now. Since I found her cheating, I shut down.” His shrug seems like an apology. “I’ve been putting up a wall, and I’m not sure why I shouldn’t. I haven’t been in the mood to even try to get close to anyone.”
I frown at my wineglass, trying to avoid the feeling his comment sparks in me. His remark hits me right in the chest. It aches, and I want to cringe over the uncomfortable sensation of knowing exactly what he’s talking about. He’s been withholding himself from dating, from the world, and I can understand that.
I went through that curling-in-on-yourself aloofness. I felt it after my parents died, and I was left alone in the world. I’ve been going through it again as I struggle to move on past the loss of my career and future. I understand Dalton in this aspect, and I’m faced with the fact we’re alike. Neither of us are in the market for a relationship. We are not allowing ourselves to be emotionally available. I realize this.
But I still can’t ignore this nagging thought. The little stubborn voice in the back of my head pipes up. I can’t silence it completely. I do like Dalton. I’m drawn to him with a push-and-pull force. I loathe him but don’t. I respect him but wish I didn’t. This idea of wanting to learn more about him and spend time with him won’t go and stay away, and my interest keeps coming back stronger.
“And now Caleb’s the one who’s going to put an end to bachelorhood.”
I smile, grateful for his wry comment that marks a change of topic. “He does seem smitten with Lauren. At least so far. He crashed that fancy wedding to rescue her, so that means a lot.”
Dalton huffs. “That’s not all.” He glances over his shoulder to check through the wide windows that the couple we’re talking about can’t hear us. How could they, through the glass?
“What do you mean it’s not all?”
“Caleb told me that he wants to propose to Lauren.”
I snort on my sip of wine. “Already? Can’t the woman not be engaged for a while?”
He chuckles.
“Seriously?” I ask, giving in to a smile.
“Yeah. He sounds serious.”
“Well, if he’s building a home for them here and leaving New York for her, I guess that’s as serious as a man can get.”
“He told me she’s the One. As soon as the time is right, he’ll pop the question.”
“Aww….” I smile, thrilled for my friend. I stand by my joke, that she might appreciate the freedom of not being engaged for even a little bit, but that’s silly talk. When she was expected to marry Jeremy, it was a sentence, an obligation, a chore she wanted to avoid. She hated the idea of being Jeremy’s wife so much, she escaped twice.
If and when Caleb asks her to be his bride, it won’t be like that at all. They’re already so in love, content and satisfied that they share a match made and forged in love, not expectations. If he proposes, he’ll do so with his heart and wanting to make her happy, not driven to complete a transaction decorated with dollar signs.
But…
I sigh again, more wistfully as I muse about how perfect Lauren is for Caleb, and vice versa. Dalton releases the same long exhale, and I feel like we’re in sync there.
Wishful.
Dreaming.
Hopeful yet not.
We’re showing similar reactions that sound and look a lot like wistfulness. Or maybe it’s plain old envy. Dalton came close to going for what he thought was a happily ever after with this woman who cheated on him. He’s gotten near this utopic sensation of belonging with another half of your soul.
I haven’t. I’ve never tiptoed toward this consuming feeling of love. Since I was thrust into adulthood, my commitments have always been tied with obtaining perfect grades to maintain my scholarship money, working extra to eke out a living, and later, still bending over backward to be the best teacher I could be, even though it would never seem like enough to earn more like a decent living wage.
Deep down, I yearn for the solidity and security of a love match like Lauren has found. I’ve never taken much time to sit down and think about it all. I’ve been too busy to dwell on it. But here, in the quiet and slower pace of life in the country, farther from the hustle and bustle of the city, I realize how I’ve been missing out.
And Dalton seems to regret not having the relationship Caleb found.
If I were petty, I’d think it wasn’t fair. That Caleb and Lauren can find this when I—and Dalton—can’t.
We’re right here, physically together, but with our respective losses, we seem too far apart, so distanced with the danger of following our guarded hearts to risk going for what seems so unattainable.