How the Light Gets In (Cracks Duet #2)(15)
That would be a travesty ;-)
Tuesday 10:07 [email protected] to [email protected]
Ugh, you’re irritating in emails. Do you know that? If I wear the wrong thing, on your head be it. See you tomorrow.
P.S. This is my number if you need to get in touch: 415 561 5670
Tuesday 10:08 [email protected] to [email protected]
Thanks! See you tomorrow. xxx
I thought that was the end to our conversation, but several minutes later my phone lit up with a call from a number I didn’t recognise.
“Hello?”
“If we’re exchanging numbers, this is mine,” came Dylan’s voice. I liked how the husky quality of it sounded on my phone.
“Right. Thanks,” I replied, then paused a moment. “You could’ve just emailed me.”
“Emails are too easy to hack.”
“Oh, is your number that valuable? Is your first name Beyoncé?”
“No. I’m just security aware.” He let out a sexy exhalation. “Sassypants.”
I chuckled, mostly because I couldn’t think of anything to say, and there was another pause, a long one.
Dylan exhaled again. This time it sounded strained. “Evelyn . . .”
“Yes?” I replied, eager.
“I want to . . . date you.”
“You do?” I squeaked, then cleared my throat. “I mean, do you?”
“I want to get to know you again, if you’ll let me.”
He wanted to date me? The very idea put a big, silly smile on my face. But then, I frowned. Would it be selfish to get into a relationship with Dylan when I was still finding my feet after losing Gran? I’d made a resolution to try to be happy, but I knew I wasn’t there yet. And over the years, I always thought I needed someone else to be content, always tried to find myself in other people. If I got into a relationship with Dylan now, would I be repeating the same mistakes?
“Dylan, I—”
“Say no more. You’d prefer to be friends,” he cut me off, obviously hearing the regret in my voice. He sounded chagrined, which made me feel bad.
“No, it’s not that. It’s just . . .” I sighed. “I’m not ready for a relationship.”
“I understand, but I’d still like to hang out sometimes, if you’re up for it?”
“Yes, of course. You know I’ve always loved your company.”
“Great, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, Yvonne and I are looking forward to it.”
Dylan chuckled. “I don’t think any of us are looking forward to it as much as Conor. He’s had a big stupid smile on his face since he bumped into you at the apartment.”
I grinned. “Oh, don’t you worry. Yvonne will be smiling too when she sees him.”
“He’s at the gym by six every morning,” Dylan said. “I can’t keep up.”
“Bet he gets asked out all the time.”
“You could say he’s had his share of admirers.”
“I can’t wait to see Yvonne’s reaction. It’ll be priceless.”
“You think she’d go out with a younger man?”
I considered it. “Maybe.”
“We’ll just have to see how tomorrow night goes then.”
“I feel like a matchmaker,” I said, a little giddy.
“You’re so fucking cute. Now I’ve got to get back to work.”
“Right, of course. See you tomorrow, Dylan.”
“See you tomorrow, Ev.”
The next morning, I was doing laundry when I got another call from him. I picked up on the third ring, smiling as I answered, “Hello?”
I heard him exhale, his voice apologetic. “Hi Ev. Listen, I’m sorry to have to do this, but can we take a rain check on tonight? There’s some work stuff that’s come up and—”
“No worries,” I was quick to reply. “We can go some other time.”
At the back of my mind, I wondered if this was an excuse. I wondered if he’d thought better of it and decided he didn’t want to go through the rigmarole of reconnecting. And I understood. I mean, we lived in different worlds now. I was a bartender and he was the CEO of his own company. I wasn’t sure how well our lives would mesh anyway.
Or maybe . . . maybe he walked into his store this morning and got a better offer from the pretty, scarlet-haired Laura. A sliver of jealousy ran through me before I quashed it down.
No, that couldn’t be it. He already told me Laura wasn’t for him. And Dylan wasn’t the type to make up excuses. He told you exactly how he felt. When we were teenagers he’d described himself as honest to a fault.
I think he must’ve heard the quaver of uncertainty in my voice, because his was reassuring and firm. “Evelyn, there’s nothing I’d rather be doing tonight than taking you out. But I’ve got meetings all day, and there was a mix-up on one of our orders at the shop, so I’m going to have to work tonight to correct it.” He paused, sighing again. I imagined him running a hand through his hair.
I chewed on my lip, hesitant when I asked, “Will you be taking a break to eat?”
“Well, sure, but—”
“Then why don’t I stop by with food? Say no if you’d rather not, I won’t be offended,” I went on nervously.