by Anna Parsons
Dylan stepped from the shower, oiled himself and dried off as he went over the checklist in his head.
1.Find my Hope
2.Beg her forgiveness
3.Ask her to marry me
4.Make love to her. Maybe I should make that number 2 or 3. Or maybe I can make love to her while begging her forgiveness?
5.Get her a ring
6.Make love to her some more
7.Marry her
8.Throw away her birth control pills
9.Make babies
10.Oh, wait. Gotta tell my parents, and her parents, and JJ, and Chris, and Ben. Damn. I need a pen.
He wrapped the towel around his waist and grabbed a hand towel to finish drying his hair. Walking into the bedroom, the scene before him stopped him in his tracks. He found his Hope kneeling in the middle of his bed, just as he taught her. Find my Hope. Check. Now for the begging…or was it lovemaking?
“You’re here,” he said as he approached the bed. She was positioned perfectly, her body on display before him. Her beauty shone like a beacon, drawing him to her. He stopped when she raised her hand.
“You hurt me,” she said softly.
“I know. I was wrong.” He continued his approach, only to be stopped again.
“You were not entirely wrong,” she said. “I didn’t tell you the complete truth, which is the same as a lie, I guess. But it’s sad that I can’t surprise you with gifts without you dumping me.” Be strong. You can do this.
“I know about the gifts,” he said as he reached for the watch, placing it around his wrist. “Beautiful, and very thoughtful,” he said, looking down at the timepiece. “I know the whole story, now.”
“You could’ve known the whole story last night, had you taken a moment to listen or given me the benefit of the doubt.” She was not backing off.
“I know. I was wrong,” he repeated. “You know how I feel about dishonesty. I could tell you were not telling the whole truth. And remember, you didn’t tell me you loved me until that moment.”
“Don’t try to justify your actions, Master Dylan.” She hoped that he picked up on the intentional slight. Given his sharp intake of breath, she knew it hit home. “You know me, or I thought you did, anyway. I didn’t think I needed to say what I felt. I thought you knew how much I love you.” There, I said it again. “How much I want to be with you, in your arms, in your club, in your life. I thought you knew.” She paused.
“I said I was wrong, Hope. Can’t you accept that?” He was at the side of the bed in one stride. “I’m sorry,” he said. Evie knew how hard it was for those words to slip from his lips.
“Yes, you were wrong. You completely overreacted. You were wrong to assume the worst about me. You were wrong to not allow me to explain. You were wrong to walk away from me. You were wrong to throw me out of your club.” She took a deep breath before continuing, the volume of her rant increasing with each point. “You were wrong to call me ‘common’! You were wrong to send your boys to deal with me!” She was crying now.
“Hope…” he started.
“No, you said what you wanted to say to me last night. Now it’s my turn.” She was turning crimson with anger. “I am not common! I was never common!” she screamed. “It just took you to make me realize it.” The statement came out barely as a whisper. “You built me up and tore me down. You don’t get to do that.” She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. He practically leapt onto the bed before he enveloped her into his arms.
“My Hope.” He held her tightly, pressing kisses everywhere he could reach. “I let myself believe the worst. I should’ve known better. I love you. God, I love you.” He looked into her eyes, blind with tears, and placed his lips over hers. “Forgive me, please.” He put all his emotions, all his guilt, all that he felt when he’d thought he’d lost her into the kiss. He wanted all his heartfelt regret and passion to flow into her. He pulled back to look into her eyes. “I love you. I need you.” Aha! Got him, Evie thought.
“I will forgive you,” she said, causing him to smile broadly. Dimple. Have mercy. Stay strong!
“I promise—” He paused when she placed her finger on his lips.
“I will forgive you, after you are punished,” she said simply. He released his grip on her, looking down into her eyes in confusion.
“Punished?” he asked with a bit of humor in his voice.
“Yes, punished.” There was not a bit of humor in hers. She pulled herself away from him and crawled from the bed. “You haven’t been entirely truthful with me from the very beginning.”
“What are you talking about? I’ve always been completely straightforward with you,” he said with a frown.
“What about Anne?” She saw him tense. “You neglected to tell me that your dead wife speaks to you.” Or that she speaks to me, for that matter. “Did it slip your mind?”
“No, it didn’t.” He looked down at his hands, trying to think of the right words. “It’s not what you think. There was no deception intended.”
“I’m sure.” Her words were dripping with sarcasm. “Actually, I spoke with her. She told me the whole story, and I agree with you. There was no intent to deceive. She only wanted to make you happy.”
“Us happy,” Dylan said quickly.
“Yes, you’re right, of course,” she said, her confidence waning. “I was happy. Very happy. Until I discovered that you don’t trust me. Apparently, you never trusted me.”
“I was wrong, on several counts, but I do love you.” He stepped from the bed.
“I hope that’s true.” She paused. “I remember you telling me that separation was the greatest punishment.” She walked to the chair that held her clothes. Slowly, she dressed herself, not looking back at him for fear that she would cave.
“Hope, please.” His voice caused her to turn.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “You hurt me more than I can express. You need to be punished.” She walked to the door. Descending the wide staircase with Dylan hard on her heels, she went to the coffee table to retrieve the bangle. She picked it up, placed it in her bag, donned her shoes, and turned to him with her hand extended. “Keys, please.”
“Keys?” He shook his head, trying to understand.
“To my cars,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Both of them.” He turned and reached inside the brass container and handed her what she requested.
“Thank you.” As she turned to leave, he placed his hand on her forearm.
“Don’t go. Stay with me.” She looked into his pleading eyes, and for a split second, wanted nothing more than to jump into his arms.
“Then what will you learn?” She hoped that her voice didn’t sound as shaky as it felt.
“Stay, Hope. Let me show you.”
“No.” She wrenched her arm from his grasp and opened the door. “When you’ve learned your lesson, I’ll be back.” She quickly exited, running down the stairs to her old car. Don’t look back. Don’t look back. If you do, it’ll be over. She started the old sedan, giving it time to heat up before backing out of the space. Heading down the driveway to the main road, she couldn’t help but look into the rearview mirror at him at the top of the steps, watching her leave. He stood with the towel draped around his hips, his fists balled at his sides, biceps bulging, looking dangerous, and handsome.
“What are you doing, Hope?” Anne asked.
Keeping my man. That’s what I’m doing.
“Are you sure this is how you want to do it?”
Yes. We’ll be apart for as long as I can stand it. Trust me, that won’t be long. When we come back together, I know it’ll be for keeps. Now go away. You’re distracting me. And leave him alone, too.
* * * *
Dylan watched her drive away. Once she was out of sight, he went back inside. He stood next to his chair, glancing back at the door. He laughed out loud. “Punishment,” he said. “That little minx. That bold, precious, beautiful little minx. She’s got me.” He ran up the stairs to get dressed. No
way will she be gone for more than a day. I’ll be ready for her when she comes back.
He grabbed his cell phone as he walked and pressed the speed dial number. “Hey, Mom,” he said when she answered. “I need to get a piano for the beach house, and I need your help.”
“Certainly, son.” His mother sounded delighted. “Something for the living room?”
“Yes, overlooking the ocean,” he said, running a comb through his still-damp hair. Dylan could almost picture his Hope seated at the piano.
“Oh, that’ll be perfect. Evie will love that,” Kate said. “Now let me think. She has a Steinway at home, which I know she loves, but she almost flipped over the Charles Walter in our music room.”
“Okay. Where can I get one?” Dylan asked.
“Well, they only make a few a year. Let me make a couple of calls and see what I can find out.” She scribbled notes on a pad.
“Thanks, Mom. Call me when you find something.”
“Sure, son. And we’ll see you on Sunday, right? We invited Evie to brunch.”
“We’ll be there, Mom.” At least I hope we will.
Chapter 38:
Separation Anxiety
Day One
Hope
After she left Dylan standing on the steps of the beach house, she had to pull over less than a mile away because she was blinded by tears. She wanted to rush back to the house and jump into his arms, but she held fast. She needed to be sure that once they were together, they would be together forever. Driving back to her apartment, she first breathed a sigh of relief that she made it home, and then let out a sigh of exasperation because she wanted to be with Dylan. Her cell phone rang several times that night. Dylan. I can’t answer. I have to do this.
* * * *
Dylan
Dylan ordered the piano and asked Maxwell to put together a selection of engagement rings. He paced the house, trying to be patient, but failing miserably. He had dinner with his parents, who would not stop talking about his Hope. They asked several times why he didn’t invite her to dinner, which he deflected like a boxer running from blows. He tried to call a few times, leaving loving voice mails when she didn’t answer.
* * * *
Day Two
Dylan
The piano arrived. He set it up in the living room, where she could sit and play while the waves crashed against the surf, which she never tired of hearing. The tuners commented on the beauty of the deep mahogany instrument, which belonged to another buyer before Dylan came along. The rare custom piece had to be his, so he made the other buyer an offer that was good enough to convince him to wait another year for a piano from the manufacturer. Once the movers left, Dylan sat on the stool and touched the keys. Although he took lessons from his mother when he was young, he never took the time to practice. His attempt at “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” was atrocious, and he knew it. He tried to contact Hope morning, noon, and night, leaving her messages about her new piano, but he never spoke with her. Dylan went to the club, hoping that she would come, but she didn’t. He remained in his office, staring at the video monitors. Appetite was non-existent, and sleep was nearly impossible.
* * * *
Hope
She went to the clinic, where JJ knew something was terribly wrong, judging by the bags under her eyes and her inability to concentrate. “Darlin’, you need to go home,” he said gently.
“But I don’t want to go home,” she whined.
“Okay. You don’t have to go home, but you have to leave here,” JJ said firmly. “You’re not on top of your game, and I need everyone at one hundred percent. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” Evie said before gathering her things and leaving. She dialed Antonio.
“Okay, girl, what is going on?” Antonio started talking as soon as he answered.
“I need to hang out. Are you busy?” she asked, walking to the car.
“Never too busy for you. I’ll just have a couple of dry heaves in front of my boss. He’ll send me home and I can be at your house in an hour.”
“That’s perfect, Antonio. See you then.” She hung up the phone, glad that her friend could help with the doldrums.
Antonio arrived right when he said he would. “Girlfriend”—he pulled her into a hug—“I know everything.”
“Everything?” Evie said, pulling away. She led him into the living room, and they curled up on the couch.
“Yup. I know about you telling Big Badass what he did wrong. And I know about you walking out to punish him. And…” He looked down at her. “I know that you’re hurting right now.”
“I miss him so much, Antonio.” She started crying. “I can’t concentrate. I don’t wanna eat. I can’t sleep. I’m just fucked up!”
“Girlfriend.” He picked some imaginary lint from his blue paisley tie, which matched his eyes perfectly. “You walked out. Which means that you’ve gotta be the one to walk back in.”
“I know that,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes. “But he walked out on me. Twice, actually. Then he kicked me out.”
“Antonio loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his baby blue shirt, trying to get comfortable. “I think he regrets what happened. But you know how Doms are.”
“No, actually, I don’t. Dylan was…is my first. Well, aside from Peter, and I really don’t even count him.” She looked up at Antonio. “Speaking of Peter, do you know what happened?”
“Yeah, actually.” He pulled off the tie altogether and rose to head to the kitchen. “He got himself involved with some pretty awful people. From what I understand, they were sending him a message.” He opened the liquor cabinet, pulling out the Johnny Walker and the Patron. Grabbing two glasses, he headed back to his seat. “He’d only recently proposed to someone. They don’t think the people who set the fire knew she was in the house.”
“That’s just awful,” Evie said, pulling her sweater closer to her, taking the shot of whiskey Antonio poured for her.
“I know. Peter is in protective custody now. I doubt we’ll ever see him again.” Antonio downed a shot of tequila and poured another. “Okay, let’s change the subject.”
“Agreed,” Evie said, lifting her glass in a mock toast. “Now…you were about to tell me about Doms.”
“Most Doms, Big Badass included, want to push their sub to be more than they are. They want to make us stretch to become all that they see in us. Sometimes, they push too far. When they do, there is some regret because they’re supposed to take care of us. But trying to get one to apologize is like pulling teeth.” He took another shot. Evie’s phone started ringing. “Uh-oh. Speak of the Dom, and here he is.”
“He calls often and leaves the sweetest messages. Today, he told me about the piano he bought for our beach house,” she said, smiling.
“But you haven’t answered?”
“No,” she said, tears again flowing. “I miss him so much.”
“Of course you do.” He held her close. “You can end this anytime you want.”
* * * *
Day Three
Hope
Evie asked Antonio to take her to the club to pick up her car. She resisted the temptation to go inside and instead made a quick retreat. She was just about to enter the highway ramp, when she saw Dylan make the turn to the club. He didn’t see her, but as she watched him, her heart began to race. Sexy as hell. His eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses did little to diminish his beauty. She blew out a breath and took off. If he’s at the club, then he can’t be at the house.
Less than an hour later, Evie pulled up in front of the beach house. She was up the stairs and through the front door in a flash. Throwing her purse down and kicking off her shoes, she stepped into the living room. Instinctively, she started to shed her clothes, and was stark naked before she realized it. I’m perfectly trained. She approached the instrument. “Beautiful,” she said. Unable to resist, she slid onto the bench, opened the fall, and started playing. The pure sound bounced off the walls and fell back upon her.
“Oh, that’s so good.” She laughed. Beethoven, Mozart, and Bach, all sounded pleasing to her ear coming from the perfect instrument. She rose from the piano and headed for the kitchen. Coffee always complemented her playing, so she made a cup and returned to the living room. Evie played for hours without any concept of time. When she looked at her watch, she rushed to get dressed and leave, not wanting to risk Dylan walking in on her. She glanced back at the room before she closed the door behind her. He did that for me. Wow.
* * * *
Dylan
He went to Maxwell’s. Although the renowned jeweler selected about ten options for Dylan to view, the perfect ring caught his eye almost as soon as he sat down in Maxwell’s office. He picked it up instantly, pushing the tray of the other rings aside. A platinum Tiffany two-and-a-half-carat cushion-cut diamond with smaller diamonds around the brilliant center stone was perfect for his Hope. Maxwell showed him the wedding band that mated the engagement ring. There was no need to go further because the choice was made. The collar proved a bit more difficult. The traditional route just didn’t feel right for his Hope. He took more than an hour viewing nearly everything that the jeweler had to offer.
“Mister Dylan”—Max pronounced it meester deelan—“I only met her once, but I agree that the traditional doesn’t fit. She is unique. Maybe I can design something that will work.”
“I think that is the best idea, Max,” Dylan said, leaning back in the chair. “I want something with a lock, like her bangle, and elegant enough for her to wear every day. Work on it. E-mail me some samples.” He rose to leave. “Thanks for everything, Max.”
“Of course, Mister Dylan.” He offered his hand, which Dylan shook. “I will get it right for your lady.”