Side Trip(9)
CHAPTER 4
AFTER
Dylan
Dylan breaks their deal the day after he leaves her. It isn’t intentional, just a moment of weakness. But he didn’t expect he’d regret everything he didn’t tell her. He didn’t anticipate how raw their parting would leave him. His chest physically hurts from missing her. Sometimes it hurts to breathe, which is so unlike him.
Dylan Westfield, miserable over a woman. That wasn’t part of his plan.
Usually it’s the other way around. He leaves women heartbroken. Except for one, a girl from high school he’d fallen in love with, they never truly love him back. They love the idea of being with him, Jack Westfield’s son, which only reinforces his theory. Love belongs on-screen. It’s a complicated mess in real life, especially within the music industry. He has zero interest in a relationship. Doesn’t plan to marry. And wouldn’t know the first thing about being a good husband. He had shitty role models.
Dylan slides his phone from his front pocket and settles into the back seat of the hired Land Rover with the blacked-out windows his cousin Chase booked to pick him up from Heathrow and transport him to the heart of London. Dylan has just enough time to check into the hotel, shower, and meet up with Chase at the Old Blue Last. The Broke Millennials are playing tonight and Chase has had his eye on them. He wants Dylan’s sign-off before he sits down with the band’s manager to discuss signing them to the label they launched a few years back, Westfield Records. It’s the reason he’s flown to London and why he and Chase will be following the music festival circuit. To study trends and scout talent. The Broke Millennials are one of many acts on their radar.
Before he registers what he’s doing, Dylan opens the App Store and downloads Facebook. He stares at the screen, finger hovering over the blue square icon, and watches the loading spinner circle until it disappears, alerting him that the app has fully loaded.
He’s never created a social media profile. Until this second, he’s avoided social media altogether. Because of who he is and what he does, the less about him on the internet, the better. He doesn’t want psychos stalking his profiles. He doesn’t want to give Jack’s followers, a fan base in mourning, access to any part of his personal life, and that includes messaging him through some random app. But Facebook may be the only way he can see her.
Dylan taps the icon and creates a profile under the name D. West. He doesn’t add any personal information when prompted other than the basic requirements, and he doesn’t friend anyone. But he does search for her. Joy Evers. From San Bernardino, California. Lives in New York, New York. Relationship status: engaged.
He clenches his teeth.
It’s not like he didn’t know she’s engaged. But it’s a bitter rub to see it right there on his phone. A middle finger to his achy-breaky heart.
Wonder when she’ll update her status.
Dylan’s got no clue. She didn’t tell him her wedding date, and he didn’t ask.
He enlarges her profile picture and his head hurts. She’s beautiful, he thinks. It’s an older photo. She looks younger than the one he has of her, the one he stole from her phone. He texted it to his cell when she wasn’t looking, then deleted the message on her phone. Unless she looks at her phone bill—like anyone does that—she’ll never know. But Joy looks happier in the photo he has, and he’d like to think that she is happier because she’s with him. It’s also the only photo he has of her because she kept the Polaroids.
He opens her album of profile photos and flips through them until he lands on one with her and Mark. She’s showing off her engagement ring. We’re engaged! the caption reads.
The real world slaps him on the cheek.
Wake up, man.
He closes the app and hot potato drops his phone into the armrest cup holder.
He wasn’t supposed to have searched for her. He isn’t even supposed to be thinking about her. They have an agreement. He didn’t realize it would be such a bitch to honor it.
Get over her, Westfield.
She isn’t part of his future, and he isn’t part of hers.
Mark is.
CHAPTER 5
AFTER
Joy
“Wife.” Mark whispers the word to her with emotion. A term of endearment.
He leads Joy around the dance floor at the Starling Chateau, their wedding venue in upstate New York. The garden ceremony was perfect, exactly how she imagined. A grand vintage fifties affair her sister, Judy, had once dreamed about. Joy did everything she could to replicate the wedding plans she’d found in Judy’s hatbox of bucket and goal lists.
Joy laughs when Mark unexpectedly dips her. Their reception is in full swing. Vows have been exchanged, glasses raised, and toasts made. Cake eaten and champagne consumed. Quite a bit of champagne, given her husband’s hooded gaze.
He leans his forehead against hers. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to call you my wife?”
“How long?” Joy plays along. Their how-we-met story is Mark’s favorite to tell. She fits a hand to his neck, keeping him close.
“Since the day your backpack fell at my feet.” He grins goofily and kisses her soundly on the mouth. He pulls away with a trace of June bug–pink on his lips.