Dream On(43)

“You got it, bro.”

With a nod, Perry strides across the room.

“Bye,” I call when he’s nearly at the door. “Thanks again for the lesson.”

Pausing, he grins at me over his shoulder, but there’s a hint of resignation behind his vivid eyes. “Anytime.”

When the door clicks closed, Devin settles onto the metal stool and crosses his arms over his broad chest, legs spread wide. “Okay, you wanted to talk, so let’s talk.”

“Devin, I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have—”

“Stop.” He raises his palm. “Cass, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have surprised you with a car like that. I was overreaching. And then getting mad at you when you reasonably said ‘thanks but no thanks’?” He shakes his head. “I’m an idiot, and I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?”

Stepping between his legs, I circle my arms around his neck. “Only if you forgive me.”

He sweeps a kiss against my lips. “Of course I do. Next time, we’ll decide if and when you’ll drive—together. I won’t push you into it. Just know I’m here and ready to help whenever you get up the courage to try.”

My insides bristle at the inference that my refusal to get behind the wheel has to do with a lack of courage rather than debilitating anxiety I can’t control. But we’ve already been in one fight today. Mincing words wouldn’t be productive at this point, and I understand what he’s really offering is help and support.

“Can I take you to dinner tonight?” he asks.

My stomach rumbles as if on cue. “Only if I can pay this time.” Devin’s paid for my meal the last two times we’ve been out, so it’s most definitely my turn. This also feels like a good time to remind him that I’m fully capable of taking care of myself—which includes paying for meals.

Plus, it’ll help me feel better about putting this afternoon behind us and simply enjoying our evening together. I hope.





“Mmm, this is delicious,” I say to Devin. My lips tingle as I savor the explosion of spicy peppers and carnitas on my tongue. Swallowing, I wipe my mouth with a napkin. Conversations crest around us, filling the colorful tapas restaurant, while the wail of a trumpet accompanies the rhythmic notes of conga drums. I cross my legs under the bar, careful not to bump the woman sitting inches away from me. “I’m glad you talked me into the taco sampler.”

Devin grins. “You can’t go wrong with a sampler.”

A bartender with a neatly trimmed mustache bustles over holding two glasses of champagne. “Here you are.” He sets them in front of us.

“Thank you.” Devin slides a twenty across the bar, picks up the glasses, and hands one to me.

“What’s this for?”

“Surviving our first fight.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it a fight. More like a mutual misunderstanding.”

“Still worth celebrating. I’ve been in relationships where misunderstandings turn into full-blown arguments pretty quickly, so I say we handled ourselves well.”

“Yes, we did.” I lift my glass.

“Cheers.” We clink, and I take a sip. Bubbles tickle my nose as the crisp, effervescent liquid slides down my throat. Something Perry said the other week niggles at the back of my mind, and I put down my champagne.

“Is that how it was with your last girlfriend?”

Devin casts me a sidelong look.

“Perry mentioned you recently got out of a bad relationship with someone named… Susan? Samantha?”

“Sadie,” he says darkly.

“What happened with Sadie?” Devin sucks in his cheek as though he’s biting it and looks everywhere except at me. Happy, tipsy chatter fills the bar, and I scoot my stool closer to him. “You don’t have to talk about her if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s a fair question. We met at a bar in Columbus last year. I’d just graduated from my MBA program at Ohio State, and she was going into her third year of law school.”

“I see you have a thing for lawyers,” I say, teasing.

“They’re smart and ambitious. What’s not to love?” He offers me the ghost of a smile.

“How long were you together?”

“Eight months. I know it doesn’t sound like a long time, but Sadie was like a keg of gunpowder. Being with her was… explosive. But we burned out just as quickly.” He jabs a tortilla chip into a bowl of salsa and crams it into his mouth.

Jealousy claws up my spine like a slithering swamp monster, and I shove it back down. I have no right to be jealous. What he did, and whom he dated, before we met is none of my business. “What happened?”

Tipping his chin to the ceiling, he blows out a long breath. “She turned out to be a world-class liar. I didn’t see it at first, but she manipulated me the whole time we were together. We broke up about three months ago. I haven’t talked to her since.”

“Is she still in Columbus?”

“No idea. I blocked her number and unfollowed her on Instagram. I have no desire to see or speak to her ever again.”

Well, that sounds healthy.

“How about you? Any bad news ex-boyfriends I should be aware of?”