The Good Widow(75)

“I don’t understand. This is so good. We are so good.” Nick said, and tugged on the cuff of her robe’s sleeve, forcing her to look up at him.

“It just doesn’t feel right anymore,” she finally said, tears perched in the back of her eyes.

“What doesn’t feel right?” He was still gripping the pink fleece.

You’re not James.

“Dylan, did I do something?” He tried again, his eyes pleading. She’d never seen him look so vulnerable. He had always been so strong and big—a broad chest, large biceps, the kind of man who protected you. In fact, she called him Paul Bunyan sometimes.

She eased away from his grip and watched his arms tense, the veins in his forearms bulging. “Nick, it’s not just one thing—it’s just the way I feel. Getting married is a huge commitment. We need to be sure. I’m not sure.”

“I guess I don’t understand what’s changed. Dyl, we don’t even argue! Did something happen? Because this doesn’t make sense at all.”

“I don’t know how to explain it.” And I don’t want to explain it.

“Dyl, don’t do this to me. I want you to marry me.”

Dylan looked down at the ring. “I shouldn’t have said yes.” She flinched as she tried to slide the band over her knuckle. It was still too tight. She’d never gotten it resized. It was like deep down she’d known it wasn’t just the ring that didn’t fit.

The look on his face crushed her, and she almost reached out and hugged him. She almost changed her mind, told herself James was never going to leave his wife anyway. And would eventually end things with her. That was what married guys usually did. Got tired of the mistress. Figured out the wife wasn’t so bad after all. But she stayed strong. She decided that James would see this as sign of loyalty. Maybe not at first. But eventually.

“I thought you loved me the same way I loved you . . .” He paused, and she knew he was waiting for her to say that she did love him that way—but she couldn’t. Even as she eyed her ring and thought of his proposal, she didn’t think she ever had—loved him the way he needed her to, anyway. “Is there someone else?”

Dylan’s head shot up, and she locked eyes with Nick. She knew she could tell him right then. That it would be out in the open finally. But there was something about the way he was looking at her . . . she knew he wasn’t ready to hear it. And she didn’t want to be cruel.

“No.”

He narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips together. And she wondered again if he already knew. If he’d known all along, since the night he’d waited for her in her apartment—or even before.

“You have to give me something here. If I’ve done nothing wrong and there’s no one else, then what?” He threw his hands up in the air.

Dylan decided she had to say it. The words she knew would devastate him.

“We don’t fit together.” She took a deep breath and didn’t stop until she’d said it all. That she didn’t love him the way he loved her. That she was doing him a favor, that he deserved someone who would love him more. She told him he deserved passion. But she stopped there. She didn’t say that what she had with James was thrilling, exhilarating, spontaneous. That she felt more passion in her fingertip for James than she did in her entire body for Nick.

But then he started crying—giant tears that didn’t look right streaming out of his eyes. “You’re wrong, Dyl,” he said through his sobs.

“I’m sorry.” She reached for his hand, but he stepped backward.

“So that’s it then?” he asked.

She didn’t know what to say.

“This isn’t you, Dylan. You’re fragile. Delicate. You need to be taken care of. Remember how lonely you were when I met you? You’ll never find anyone who will take care of you better than I do.”

She didn’t know if James would be that person, but she wanted to find out.

After that, he refused to talk to her. Became sullen. She decided she should go. She worked the ring off with some Vaseline and set it next to her set of keys to his condo. Then she grabbed her bag and walked out the door. She knew she needed to start looking for another place, that it would be awkward to run into him. She hoped eventually he’d come to realize this was for the best and that they could be friends.



But Nick didn’t let go. He didn’t give up. The calls started. The emails. The texts. One day she had fifty-six missed calls from him, and twice as many text messages. He said he wanted her back. That he would do anything. The way he said anything into her voice mail made her heart hurt. She had to change her phone number.

Then he confronted her in their building. Once when she was getting her mail. Another time as she was stepping out of her car. She screamed that time because he scared the hell out of her. He came out of nowhere. The look on his face made her feel so bad. “It’s just me, Dylan,” he said.

This behavior went on for over a month. Jimmy from work offered her his couch, but she didn’t know how to explain to James why she was sleeping at some guy’s apartment. She worried he’d see it as baggage. And then he might never leave his wife. So Dylan started to do everything she could to avoid running into Nick, leaving her place super early and coming home late.

When she didn’t see or hear from him for almost a week, she started to breathe easy again. She was leaving for Maui the next morning and was lost in thought about the trip. As she pushed through the back door of her restaurant, she was going over her packing list, remembering that on the way home, she needed to stop at Walgreens for some travel-size bottles for her shampoo and conditioner.