How the Light Gets In (Cracks Duet #2)(6)

I pointed a finger at what he was wearing. “Not in that suit.”

“I have to dress this way for work,” he said, seeming pleased with our banter. “If I didn’t, nobody would take me seriously.”

“Well, it doesn’t need to be Gucci. You could don some Dunnes Finest and still look the part.”

His laugh made me feel all shimmery inside, like I was a teenager all over again. “I don’t think they have Dunnes Stores over here, Ev.”

“A pity, they do some nice stuff. Affordable, too.”

He shook his head, and we stopped in front of a small diner. “Here we are.”

The place looked a little grotty, but it had a cosy charm. “Is this one of those hidden gems? Did you find it on TripAdvisor?”

“Nope. I spotted it from down the street and thought it looked decent,” he replied.

“What kind of self-respecting millennial are you? You didn’t even read a review first.”

“Food’s food, Ev. Now get your arse inside.” He placed his hand to the small of my back to usher me in. It was the first time he’d touched me in years, and I had all kinds of feelings. Feelings it’d take me a bottle of wine and a quiet evening to unravel.

We got a booth, the leather worn from overuse. I sat on one side and Dylan sat on the other. He clasped his hands together and gazed at me, like he couldn’t believe his luck that we were sitting across a table from one another. I picked up the menu and busied myself studying each item, a tad nervous. There was something about the one-on-one time that ramped up my anxiety. At least back at the bar I had work to focus on.

As it happened, they did serve pancakes, but I opted for some scrambled eggs on toast. Dylan told the waiter he’d have the same.

“You changed my mind,” he said and closed over the menu to study me. “How long have you been living here?”

“A little over two months. Yvonne’s been here years though. She probably told you. I finally decided to join her.”

“What made you change your mind?”

I looked away, eyes downcast as I answered, “Gran died last Christmas. She got pneumonia after an operation, and her immune system couldn’t fight it.”

Immediately, Dylan reached out and took my hand. His palm felt nice, warm and dry, and I savoured the quiet moment of empathy.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I always liked her.”

“And she liked you. The way her face used to light up when you’d come with me to visit . . . it was something else.”

“I visited her on my own once,” Dylan confessed and my eyes widened in surprise.

“You did?”

“Towards the end, right before I left the Villas, I needed someone to talk to,” he replied. “And she always gave the best advice.”

I leaned forward, interested. “What did you ask her?”

Dylan let go of my hand and sat back, his expression sincere. “I asked her how to convince you to come away with me.”

My breath caught. Gran never told me Dylan went to see her. Maybe she thought it was for the best. “And what did she say?”

He exhaled and leaned forward to rest both elbows on the table. His eyes flickered between mine when he replied, “She said I needed to let you make your own decisions. That if I pushed you, we’d both only end up regretting it.”

I fiddled with my napkin, smoothed my finger down its folded edge and muttered quietly, “She was a wise lady.”

“That she was,” Dylan agreed.

The server came with our food, and we both tucked in. I was still eating when Dylan finished, but he simply sat back, sipped his coffee and watched me.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re so much older.”

“Jeez, thanks.”

“I didn’t mean you look old. It’s different. It’s like you’ve grown into your face.”

“You don’t half know how to dig yourself a hole.”

His expression was amiable. “Believe me, Ev. This is a compliment.”

“Well, you’re older, too. You’re all . . . businessman-ish.” Hot businessman-ish.

He chuckled. “Okay, that one you’re gonna have to explain.”

I swished my finger in the air and dabbed my mouth with a napkin. “For starters, there’s the suit. Boys from the Villas only wore a suit for three reasons: wedding, funeral, court. And sometimes not even then.”

“Okay, what else?”

“The way you carry yourself. It’s like you know you’re important. You know people depend on you. It’s a world away from the Dylan I knew.”

“I’m still exactly the same person, Evelyn. I just grew up. We both did.”

“Hmm,” I said. I was locked in his dark blue gaze when his phone lit up with a text. He’d placed it right on the table, so I saw the message flash across the screen.

Laura: You up, hon? xoxo

Well, I knew what a ‘you up?’ message meant when I saw one, especially when the question was followed by kisses. Dylan had been booty called, or more specifically, booty texted. Given that it was almost four in the morning, this Laura person must’ve been eager. Or suffering from insomnia. Or knew if she texted he’d come.

Saying that, the text didn’t really surprise me. He might not have a wife, but a man as successful and handsome as Dylan had to have lady acquaintances. I bet he was fighting them off with a stick.