Indigo Nights (Nights #3)(70)

“But Louis’ problem wasn’t soggy pastry.”

“No, his apples were rotten. That’s the point. Dylan’s not rotten, he’s just not perfect. Edible if you like.” Haven grinned at me and raised her eyebrows.

Dylan had been my first attempt at seeing what life was like beyond my safe haven. I’d thought he’d be a good time, a bit of fun. I hadn’t expected to fall in love with him.

Haven tipped the bowl toward me. I nodded. “Yup. Now you add the flour. The same amount as the sugar and butter.”

“Don’t you have a mixer for this shit?”

“Not for beginners. You need to feel the texture of things when you stir so you know it’s right.”

“You’re a hard-ass.”

I shrugged. “You think I’ve been too hard on Dylan?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. All I’m saying is that people f*ck up, but it doesn’t mean you have to cut them out of your life. Thank God your brother is so forgiving. I can be a maniac at times.”

I grinned. I saw Haven and Jake do things they shouldn’t all the time, but they seemed to forgive each other and love each other anyway. Was that how it was supposed to be? “So you think that because of Louis, I’ve overcorrected with Dylan?”

Haven smiled. “I don’t know. Did you?”

Maybe. I’d wanted him to fit into my perfect bubble. Perhaps I should hear him out, see if there was a way through this for us. The thought was terrifying because it meant turning my world upside down and reinventing the rules I’d created for myself. But he’d been right—picturing a future without him was impossible.

“But how do I know? How do I separate * from human?”

Haven grinned at me. “You know as much as I do. You’re always going to get *s. You can’t protect yourself from that. I just think that you need to dust yourself off. You’re strong; you can handle whatever life throws your way. You’ve proven that. If you hear Dylan out and feel in your heart that he’s playing a game, then toss him aside. But I don’t think he would be in London, delivering cake to your doorstep every day, if he was an *. The guy is lava-hot. There’s going to be no lack of women wanting to take your place. He doesn’t need to chase one halfway across the world.”

My stomach churned at the thought of Dylan with someone else. Or with Alicia. She was an idiot for the way she’d treated him. As much as I didn’t want to repeat my mistakes, I didn’t want to repeat hers, either.

“Remember,” Haven continued, “when you were accepting all the bullshit from Louis, your judgment was affected. Your true feelings were covered by the booze.”

I let Haven’s words sink in. Perhaps sobriety meant I could trust my heart. I reached for my phone. Should I message him? Reach out and see how my heart felt with him?

“The answer’s yes, you should text him,” Haven said.

“You a mind reader now?”

“Don’t overthink it. A message isn’t going to make or break you.”

She smiled as I hesitantly typed out a message.

Beth: Thank you for the cakes. I love Bakewell tart.

I hadn’t put my phone down before it buzzed in reply.

Dylan: I want to give you everything you’ve ever wanted. I want to be the man you deserve.

My heart squeezed and my stomach flip-flopped. There was no question that he still had a hold over my body, heart and soul.

“I’m guessing that wasn’t the reply of an *,” Haven said with a smile.

I shrugged. Maybe not.





Beth

I’d been to a meeting every day since I’d returned from Chicago. Recovery gave me a single focus and a pass to put everything else aside and just concentrate on my sobriety. But it was as if the meeting today had been designed for me. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought Haven had put together the agenda. The last words of the speaker rang in my ears as I put up my umbrella and started the short walk back to my apartment. “Remember, AA is meant to provide you with a bridge to normal living. It’s not here to cocoon you from all the difficulties that life will throw at you, but instead to help you navigate them without alcohol.”

Talking things through with Haven had helped me see that I was expecting Dylan to be perfect. He’d kept things from me, but I hadn’t even let him explain himself. I owed him that. I owed me that. I couldn’t turn away the man I was in love with so easily. I couldn’t walk away from the only man I’d ever really loved because I was scared. Haven was right; I needed to hear him out, then see what my heart told me.

I didn’t regret texting him.

I hadn’t responded to his reply. I didn’t quite know what my next move was. The following day I’d received two patisserie boxes. One with four cakes, each a different variety. The other held four Bakewell tarts. I was beginning to worry Dylan may be a feeder.

My heart skipped as I pulled the door to my building open. What would I find today? Maybe I’d run into Dylan again. I checked the time on my phone. He was probably long gone.

My heart beat faster as I got to my floor at the thought of Dylan in my building. I turned toward my apartment as I stepped off the lift, but didn’t see the usual pink-striped box on my doorstep.

Normally Dylan would have been and gone by now. My heart went from skipping to thudding. Why no delivery, and today of all days? Had he finally gotten sick of waiting around for me? My forehead became tight and I took a deep breath, trying to neutralize the prickling of my skin.