Indigo Nights: A Sexy, Contemporary Romance

by Louise Bay

  We both froze, not knowing what to say or how to react.

  “I was just leaving,” I said as the doors started to close. I moved to one side and held them open so she could get off.

  She stepped out of the elevator, her eyes firmly on the ground. “I didn’t realize you came each day.”

  “You didn’t think the cakes were from me?”

  “I thought you’d be in Chicago. I assumed you had them delivered.” Her voice was small as she continued to stare at the ground, but I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I drank her in, desperate at having spent the last two weeks without her.

  “I told you that I wasn’t going until we had a chance to talk. I can’t give up. You mean too much. You’ve become the reason I get up in the mornings.” I took a breath. How could I convince her to give us a second chance? “Tell me it’s not too late. Tell me you can imagine not being together, because when I shut my eyes, all I see in my future is you.”

  She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t leave either. I wanted to reach out to touch her; I wanted so desperately to feel her skin against mine.

  “It’s hard, Dylan. I need to keep my heart safe. I can’t go back to how I was—weak and vulnerable. You know that.”

  She didn’t feel her heart was safe with me? I cringed. “I’m so sorry, my sweet. Tell me what to do.”

  She lifted her eyes slightly, but she still didn’t look at me. “I don’t have an answer for you. You should be in Chicago. Raf and—”

  “I need to be wherever you are.” I reached for her, but she shrank away and turned. “Try to imagine your life when we’re not together. If you can do that, then tell me and I’ll walk away, broken, but I’ll be out of your life forever.”

  “Don’t, Dylan. I can’t. Not yet.”

  Nausea seeped into every part of my body as she went out of sight. I stumbled into the elevator. I needed to be able to breathe, needed fresh air. What got to me the most was that Beth didn’t sound angry. Her voice was full of sadness. Anger I could have coped with, but that look of disappointment on her face killed me over and over again.

  Walking back to the hotel, replaying our encounter in my head, I cringed. What were her words? Don’t, Dylan. I can’t. But there’d been something after that. Not yet. My heart pounded as rain dampened my hair. Not yet implied that there was a future. But for what?

  To speak?

  To touch?

  Jesus, waiting without any promise of resolution was killing me. I was so used to getting what I wanted, when I wanted it. Beth had turned everything on its head for me in every way.

  Beth

  I looked down at my doorstep to the now-familiar pink-striped patisserie box from the Langham. It had been a little over a week since I’d run into Dylan. How long would the daily deliveries continue? Right or wrong, I enjoyed receiving them. It took the edge off my sadness that he seemed so genuinely sorry.

  “What’s that?” Haven asked.

  “Cake.”

  “Is that a regular delivery?”

  “I guess you could say so.” I stooped to collect the box. “It’s from Dylan.”

  “Really? How do you know? Do you get them a lot?”

  “Every day.” I put my key in the lock.

  “He has them sent every day? Seriously? That’s so sweet.”

  “Hey, you’re supposed to be on my side. And he doesn’t send them, he delivers them.” I opened the door and put the box on the console table while I took off my coat. Haven was unusually quiet. She’d come over because she wanted a hand making a birthday cake for Jake. I got the impression it was just an excuse; she wasn’t much of a baker.

  Haven dumped the shopping bags she’d been carrying on the counter and started to unpack. “Shall I put these in the fridge?” She held up two blocks of butter.

  “No. First rule of baking is that everything has to be at room temperature when you start.”

  I set Dylan’s delivery next to the shopping and opened the box. I swear he must be making special requests. There was no way the Langham had such variety.

  “Whatcha got?” Haven peered over my shoulder. “Wow, they look good. Does he pick them out himself?”

  I shrugged. The Bakewell tart looked delicious. There were a couple of things I didn’t recognize. I resisted the temptation to dig in, closed the lid and put them in the refrigerator.

  “So, he’s in London?” Haven asked. “I mean, if he’s delivering you cake every day …”

  I thought it was a little odd Haven hadn’t focused on that fact. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “For how long?”

  “I don’t know. He said …” He’d said he’d wait for as long as it took, but he’d have to go back to Chicago soon, wouldn’t he? I should be pleased, but as much as I couldn’t bring myself to have a conversation with him, I was glad he was close. “He said he’d be around a while. I don’t know when he’ll go back.”

  “He’s here on business?”

  I was pretty sure he hadn’t abandoned his company, but I was equally sure he would be most effective in Chicago. It must be inconvenient being in London. Perhaps I didn’t want to have the final conversation because ultimately I didn’t want him to leave. And I wasn’t sure I was ready to give him up just yet. “I guess.”

  “I thought you hadn’t talked since you left Chicago?”

  “Grab a wooden spoon,” I said, handing Haven some caster sugar and a mixing bowl. “I ran into him a week or so ago when he was leaving the desserts. That’s how I know he’s delivering them.” I pulled out some scales from the cupboard and set them on the counter.

  “Did you talk?”

  “When I saw him?” Haven nodded. “Not really. I’m just so scared of ending up someone’s fool again. I feel trapped, like I can’t go back to him because it will mean going back to the old Beth who glossed over so many signs with Louis. But I can’t move forward either, because the thought of Dylan not being in my life is just too painful to contemplate.”

  “But Dylan and Louis aren’t the same person. I’ve met Louis. You’re right, he might as well have ‘asshole’ tattooed on his forehead, but you were young and vulnerable and your mother had just died. You saw what you needed to see.”

  Was Haven right? Would Louis have had the same effect on me if I hadn’t been grieving?

  I pointed at the sugar and Haven opened it. “You’re one of the wisest people I know, but even you don’t get it right all the time. Are you sure Dylan’s not just human rather than an asshole?”

  I took the bag of sugar from Haven and poured out two hundred and twenty five grams, thinking about what she’d said. Was I making Dylan pay for my previous bad judgment? “I’m not saying I’m perfect. Far from it. I’m saying the opposite.”

  “I know. But I wonder if Dylan had been perfect up until then for you. He’d gotten everything right, but that was never going to last. He’s bound to fuck up, and so are you. That’s just life. You can’t expect him to be perfect any more than you can expect perfection in yourself.”

  Did I want to erase the possibility of any fuck ups in my life, to try to make everything perfect?

  I turned on the oven then rounded the counter and took a seat on a stool opposite Haven. “Now add two hundred and twenty five grams of the butter.” I rested my chin on my hand. Since I got sober, I’d existed in a bubble that kept me safe and happy and only allowed people I knew I could count on in. Jake was my constant. He pissed me off at times, but I never doubted his honor or his desire to see me happy. I’d immediately liked Haven, but I didn’t open up to her often. I didn’t want to put myself out there to be judged or rejected. Feelings like that didn’t belong in my bubble. In my world, I was safe and sober and happy. Steady.

  As close to perfect as I could get.

  “You think I’m trying to make everything too—?”

  “It’s like how the pastry on an apple pie is supposed to be flaky, golden and crisp to be good. But sometimes it doesn’t come out that way. But you know
what? It’s still delicious.”

  “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 fuck 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 asshole from human?”

  Haven grinned at me. “You know as much as I do. You’re always going to get assholes. 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 asshole. 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 asshole,” 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.

  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 C
hicago. 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.”