Indigo Nights (Nights #3)(41)
He smiled. “I know that feeling. And the alcohol stuff—is that something I need to be . . . I mean, do I need to do anything, or not do . . .”
I rested my chin on his chest and gazed at him. “I’m the alcoholic. You can’t make me drink or stop me from drinking. That’s all me. But what’s between us is new, so I need to just make sure I’m working my program.”
“Do you have a sponsor and stuff?”
I smiled at him. “Sure. I went for a meeting today after I left the studio. My sponsor’s in London, and I check in with her. I’m not newly sober; I just need to make sure I don’t get complacent.”
He smoothed the hair from my face. “Do you mind talking about it?”
“With some people, maybe, but not you.” Because I’d already told him the most intimate thing about me, the first time we met, it had laid a foundation that made it easy to talk to him, easy to be honest. “It’s not like I go around with a placard saying I’m an alcoholic—my life is not my alcoholism. Not now.” I wanted him to know that I wasn’t weak and fragile. Overcoming alcoholism had given me strength.
“WCIL asking me to do this show means the last four years haven’t just been about getting sober. Does that make sense?”
“I get that,” he said, stroking the hair from my face. “Were you always an alcoholic? What caused it?”
I liked that he was asking questions, that he wasn’t afraid of the intimacy it would create.
“I’m not sure it was the cause—I think the disease has always been in me—but I started to drink when my mother died, then I had an * boyfriend and I just tumbled into a cycle of feeling terrible and drinking to feel better, and then drinking so much I felt terrible, so I drank more to make that go away.” My stomach twisted at the memory of those dark times. They felt like a lifetime ago.
“What made you get help?”
“Jake.” I blinked to try to stem the flow of tears. “He brought me to London, told me he loved me and wanted to have his sister back.” I smiled, trying to stop from descending into an ugly cry. I was just so grateful that my brother cared so much.
Dylan stroked his thumb across my cheekbone.
“He took me to a meeting the next day and waited outside. I think he thought I was going to skip town if he left me.” I smiled. “But I didn’t. I didn’t want to escape. I wanted to be happy. And that’s what keeps me sober. I want to be happy.”
He trailed his knuckles between my breasts and over my stomach. “I think you’re very brave.”
“I think I’m very lucky. Lucky to have Jake and lucky that my life never got to the point of no return. Nothing happened that I couldn’t fix. I see some people come in to meetings and they’ve lost everything—their families, their jobs, their homes. I was saved before I ever got that far.”
“And the * that you dated, what happened to him?”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure he’s still an *. Actually, Jake’s wife dated him. They went out twice. It’s a long story. But Jake ended up punching him in front of her.” I laughed. “He’d been waiting for an opportunity to do that for a while.”
“Double win.” He smiled.
“Right.”
“And he broke your heart?” he asked.
I thought about it. “Looking back, it’s hard to tell. I would have said yes, definitely, if you’d asked me straight after it happened. But I’m not sure he did break my heart. After him, I stopped trusting people, stopped trusting myself to know what was best for me. He took my power away. I think I’m still getting that back.”
He stroked my fingers splayed across his chest.
“I’m sorry. I wish I could make it better.” His brow furrowed.
I trailed my fingers over his lips. “You’re used to solving problems.”
“I guess.”
“I don’t want you to fix me. Just be with me. Be real with me.”
He nodded. “Should I put my boxing gloves on when I meet your brother?”
My stomach flipped in the most delicious way. I wasn’t sure how Jake would react to meeting Dylan, but it sounded like Dylan wanted to find out. He was thinking about our future. Part of me shone with excitement, but there was still a part that wasn’t quite ready to let Dylan into my life in London.
Dylan
My days had become longer since Beth had left for London. I wanted to get as much done as possible so we could spend the time she had away from the studio together.
My phone vibrated on the desk in my office; the number wasn’t familiar.
“James,” I answered.
“Dylan, it’s me.” I froze. “Alicia.”
I hadn’t thought about the email she’d sent me since I’d deleted it, so I was shocked to hear from her. I hadn’t heard her voice in years, not since I caught her cheating on me with her now husband.
“It’s been so long since we spoke. How are you?”
I took a deep breath; was she attempting to make small talk with me? “What do you want, Alicia?”
“Hey, is that the way you greet an old friend?”
Was she serious?
I’d always found her so charming. However much she did things that would burn and sting, she was always able to talk her way out of it, convince me that I’d misunderstood her intentions.