Indigo Nights (Nights #3)(71)

I pulled out my keys but couldn’t bring myself to unlock the door. Had he flown back to Chicago without telling me?

I rested my forehead on my front door as I tensed, releasing my grip around my phone. I couldn’t exactly message him asking where my cake was. That seemed a little . . . selfish.

My stomach churned. I was at a crossroads, and whichever path I chose from here would be a one-way street. I could pretend I didn’t notice the lack of delivery and let Dylan slip away, or I could take action and have a conversation that was long overdue.

I headed back down to the lobby to speak with the doorman. Barney must have been letting Dylan in.

“Hey, have you seen Dylan today?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant. I was sure I was failing miserably.

Barney looked a little guilty. Given we never came or left together, it was probably clear that he knew that Dylan and I weren’t on the best of terms. “Not today. Should I not let him in? I can say no next time he tries.”

I smiled. “No, that’s fine. I just wondered how he always knows to come when I’m out. Do you know?”

Barney glanced at his feet. “He usually waits at the café across the street until you’ve left. He told me he had some making up to do, and I know that feeling. I figured you would have told me if you didn’t like getting the gifts he brings.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I would have. It’s not a problem. He didn’t mention if he would be coming today, or if he was going back to Chicago?” I was grilling my doorman for information. How had it come to this?

“Afraid not. Shall I tell him you were asking if he shows up?”

I had a feeling he wasn’t going to be back. That maybe he’d finally given up.

I couldn’t blame him.

I headed out of the building and grabbed my phone. Perhaps I could catch him before he left for the airport. My chest squeezed at the thought of not having him close to me anymore. How could I expect him to hang out in London indefinitely until I grew some balls and decided to have a conversation with him? What had I been thinking?

I headed across the street to the café. I burst through the door, and heads snapped in my direction. I didn’t care how much attention I was attracting. There were less than a dozen tables and only two that had people at them. Dylan wasn’t one of them.

I stepped back out into the street, looked left and right for a cab with its light on.

It wasn’t a long journey to the Langham, but it felt as if it took as long as a flight to Chicago. He’d never said that that was where he was staying but it was the only place that made sense.

I scanned the heads of the people in the lobby as I made my way to the reception desk. “Can you tell me which room Dylan James is in, please?”

The blonde woman smiled at me. “I’m sorry; we can’t give out the room numbers of our guests.”

Shit, I should have thought of that. “Right.” I pulled out my phone and called Dylan. I just needed to know he hadn’t left.

No answer.

I turned back to the receptionist. “Could you put me through to his room?”

“Please hang on.” She tapped away at her computer and scowled. “I’m afraid Mr. James has checked out.”

My stomach sank. I knew it. I’d been an idiot not to agree to a simple conversation with him. No wonder he’d lost patience. “Did he check out today, or yesterday?”

The receptionist winced. “I really shouldn’t say, but if it’s any help, I did see him this morning.”

“Thanks so much.” I didn’t quite know where to go. His phone had rung before going to voice mail, so he couldn’t be in the air yet. Should I head to the airport to try to catch him before he boarded? The flights to Chicago generally stopped for the day after lunch, so I’d have to hurry.

I spun and charged toward the door.

“Beth?” Dylan’s silky voice washed over me and my knees nearly gave way with relief. I turned and had to hold myself back from flinging my arms around him. His brow was furrowed. “Are you okay?” he asked as he held his hand out, then stopped himself and pulled back.

I stepped toward him. What was I going to say? How was I going to explain what I was doing here?

He raised an eyebrow at me. “You here for a refill? I’m sorry; I haven’t gotten to your delivery today. I had some stuff to take care of.”

“I’m not here for cake.” I should have planned it better; I should have thought about what I was going to say. I’d been so concerned about finding him that I hadn’t thought beyond that. “I wondered if . . .” I took a deep breath. “I thought maybe you left, and we never got a chance to talk.”

“My sweet, I told you I wasn’t leaving until I’d made things right. I’ve let you down about a lot, but I wasn’t going to go back on that promise.”

“But you checked out and . . .” I looked down at the carry-on he always travelled with.

“Marie found me an apartment just around the block. I wasn’t going far.”

He was so close. I couldn’t bear that he wasn’t touching me, so I reached for him. “I think maybe it’s time for that talk. I mean, if you want to. And we don’t have to do it now. I’m sure you’re busy and you’ve got things you need to be doing. Just whenever—”