Pleasure's Edge (30 page)

He didn’t want to feel that ever again. Not with anyone else. It was only her.

Dylan.

He wanted to get on his bike and ride it off, this realization. This truth. He felt dazed by it. Stunned. But the rain was coming down too hard outside. And his bike wouldn’t work this off, no matter how long the ride.

He loved her.

His heart hammered. With love. With a strange, biting fear. And he realized suddenly that he’d been afraid, and running, his whole life. That in order to love, he had to shift his ideas about love, the ideas he’d learned from the father he’d worshipped. Maybe too much, he realized now. He had to take his father off the pedestal he’d had him on since he was a kid. A pedestal that had grown even higher after Dad had died, until it was some sort of towering, unrealistic monument.

After his parents divorced, his father had lived alone for the remainder of his life. He was absorbed in his work to the exclusion of everything else, other than his time with Alec. And Alec realized now it was this behavior that had most likely been the cause of the breakup of his parents’ marriage.

He’d been a good father. He’d taken Alec on some of his first travels, on amateur archeological digs in Mexico, a junior science outing to study the volcanoes in Hawaii. But other than Alec, the man had never real y loved anyone. Had loved nothing but pure science. He’d told Alec often enough that al he needed was his son and his science, that nothing else mattered to him. It had taken Alec thirty-six years to realize there was something wrong in that.

Just because his father had lived without love didn’t mean it was ideal, or even desirable. He had to admit, for the first time, that maybe his father, bril iant as he was, didn’t know everything.

That idea was like a kick to the gut. Hard and painful. But it was the truth, final y.

His father hadn’t known that love was important, too. And Alec, for al his spiritual quests, had never gotten past questioning the randomness of the universe his father had preached to him. Alec’s travels, his quests to Nepal, Thailand, al over Europe, had ultimately taught him nothing. Not what was real y important. He’d been ful of false pride, thinking he’d done al of these amazing, eye-opening things. His trips to Tibet, to India, to Israel, to the spiritual centers of the world. He’d sought out those incandescent, intense experiences: backpacking the Himalayas or reef diving with sharks, facing death in some weird sort of urge to prove that the random universe would not take him, too, as it had his father.

But he’d never gotten to the real root of any sort of self-awareness.

He realized now with sudden, aching clarity that the real root was love.

He loved Dylan Ivory.

He had to tel her.

His head was stil spinning with epiphanies when he grabbed his keys and ran out into the rain.

Dylan’s cel phone rang. She looked at it, watched it light up. With one breath-catching beat of her heart she wanted—
wanted
—it to be him.

But it was Mischa’s name on the cal er ID. Suddenly, she couldn’t remember why she’d avoided cal ing Mischa. She realized she had to talk to her best friend.
Had
to.

She punched the button with her thumb, picking up the cal .

“Mischa, thank God it’s you. I didn’t know I needed to . . . needed you, until you cal ed just now. I mean, I left that ridiculous message the other night . . . ”

“Message? I haven’t gotten any messages from you, Dylan. I haven’t heard from you in days. Are you okay? What’s up? You sound awful.”

Dylan swal owed a sob. “I am awful.”

“Tel me what’s happened.”

“I left him. Not that there was real y anything to leave. We never talked about it. We never cal ed it anything. But I . . . I got out of the car the other night and just . . . left.”

“You’re not seeing Alec anymore? Is that what you’re saying?” A sharp pang, hearing his name. “Yes. No, I’m not seeing him anymore. Never again.”

Her friend paused on the other end of the line. “Are you sure, honey? Because you don’t sound convinced.”

“I’m sure. It’s for the best . . . ” The tears were coursing down her cheeks, choking her so hard she could barely talk. “It is.”

“I’m sorry, Dylan.”

She blew her nose, wiped her eyes, but the tears came as quickly as she could wipe them away. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Crying like a little girl.”

“It’s normal after a breakup. Not to suggest you weren’t normal before.”

“Oh, I wasn’t. I know that. But this is just so different for me. This is not
me
.”

“Maybe it is now. And that’s not a bad thing. It’s okay to feel, honey. You can’t keep everything locked down tight inside your entire life.”

“That’s worked real y wel until now.”

Mischa paused, then asked quietly, “Has it? Has it real y?” Dylan sniffed. “Maybe. I don’t know. God, maybe not. Because until I met you a couple of years ago, I haven’t even had any real friends. Not even as a kid. I was too busy taking care of my mother and my brother. And too embarrassed by Darcy. My situation.

Then I met you and . . . how sad is it that I had to wait so long to even have a friend? And now, I stil only have you. And that’s never been an issue until right now. I’ve never realized that I needed . . .

anyone.”

“You have other writer friends. You met C.J. and Jade at the same conference where you met me.”

“I’m not as close with them.”

“I think they’d like to be, if you’d let them in. I
know
they would.

And, Dylan, the fact that you have people in your life now
is
different, just as you said. The fact that you want that. It shows change. Growth. Don’t linger on the past. Focus on what’s happening right now. On who you’ve become.”

“I don’t know who I am, anymore. I am not this weak person . . . ”

“Why do you think you’re weak?”

“Because . . . because I let myself love him.” The tears turned into harsh sobs, and it was a few moments before she could swal ow them down.

Mischa said gently, “Dylan, I don’t know how you’ve gotten this far in your writing career, writing about relationships as much as you do sex, and stil believe that loving someone is a sign of weakness. It’s just something we do. Part of the human condition.

Love is not something you have any control over. You should know that by now.”

“I do. Which is why this is so awful for me.”

“Welcome to the human race, honey,” Mischa said, but there was no sarcasm in her voice, only concern.

“God, I’m so pathetic.”

“You’re not. You’re just in love.”

Dylan shook her head. It was entirely different hearing someone else say it. It made it more true.

“I’m also . . . drowning in fear. Mischa, he had an accident on his bike. Not a big one, but he went to the emergency room and that just threw me. I mean it real y messed with my head. And that same night he tel s me he’s going on some long motorcycle trip down to Baja . . . I can’t deal with it. I cannot deal with being so damn afraid.”

“God, honey, I’m sorry. That must have been awful for you.”

“It was beyond awful. Mischa, what am I going to do now?”

“You’re certain you two can’t work this out?”

“Yes. I’m certain. If he wanted to, he would have been in touch, but he hasn’t been. And I didn’t expect him to be.”

“Men are stubborn sometimes. Al that male ego.”

“But . . . if he felt the same way I do, wouldn’t he put that aside and . . . God, that’s so stupid. I’m so stupid. I love him, and stil I walked away. Without real y giving him a chance. Because I’m too scared.”

“Fear can be a very powerful thing. But you don’t have to let it control you, Dylan.”

She nodded, sniffling. “And it has. It has my entire life. The need for control, it’s al about fear. If I don’t take care of everything, who wil ?”

“Maybe you need to give him the opportunity to do that. And because of that male ego thing I mentioned, maybe you need to be the one to take that first step, to tel him how you feel. If you love him, it’s worth the risk, isn’t it?”

She had to take several moments to absorb what Mischa was saying. But she felt the truth of it down deep.

“You’re right. I’ve been so stubborn. Hanging on to these old ideas just because they’re familiar. Unwil ing to grasp the way my life has changed. How I’ve changed. How he’s changed me.” She ran a hand through her hair, her fingers tangling in the curls. “I need to talk to him. I need to show him. I need to take the chance that he’l total y shoot me down. That he’l walk away. And he might, especial y after the way I walked away from him the other night. But I have to do it. It’s better than sitting here feeling sorry for myself.

I’ve done enough of that in the last few days to last the rest of my life. And it’s time for me to stop letting the fear control everything.”

“Good for you, Dylan. You can do it. And I’m here, no matter what happens. If you need me to get on a plane and come up there, I wil . Whether it’s to celebrate or to help you get over him.

Either way. You just let me know.”

“Thank you, Mischa. You’re a very wise woman.”

“Probably not. But I’m a romance author. I’m supposed to know about love. And so are you. It’s about time you experienced it for yourself. You deserve it, you know.”

“I’m going to get up and pul myself together and go see him. I know what I have to do.”

“Good. Cal me and tel me how it goes. And, Dylan? You’l be fine either way.”

“Maybe. I honestly don’t feel like I can be fine without Alec. But I have to try, to see what happens. Thank you, Mischa.” They hung up, and Dylan jumped up and went into the bathroom, turned on the shower, blasting the hot water. She got in and out as quickly as she could.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror while she dried herself with one of her fluffy white towels. She looked pale, and there were dark circles beneath her eyes. They were rimmed in red from crying. She looked awful. But there wasn’t time to do much about that. She was afraid if she waited too long, even long enough to put on some makeup, she’d lose her nerve. And if Alec stil wanted her, he’d have to take her as she was.

There was some fight in her again. But she was done resisting the inevitable. The fight was being channeled into making something happen, rather than stubbornly running away. And it felt good. She felt stronger than she had in a long time. Maybe ever.

She combed her hair out, leaving it to air dry, and went into the bedroom to dress in a pair of jeans, boots and a soft black cashmere sweater, throwing a scarf around her neck against the cold and the damp.

She grabbed her wool coat, her wal et and her keys. Her pulse was racing. With nervous anticipation. With fear. With the absolute driving need to tel Alec she loved him.

He would love her, or not. And there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

She stil had to do this.

She took the big warehouse elevator down and it seemed to take forever, the gears grinding, the squeaking of old metal on metal. She could smel the damp sidewalks already, the musty scents of old concrete and old wood from the building itself. The scents of years gone past, history.

She’d let too much of her life go past without real y appreciating everything. She went speeding through life, ignoring history, people,
life
.

Not anymore. Her life started now. Good or bad.

The elevator reached the ground floor and she waited with her heart hammering in her throat for the doors to open. They did, final y, and she moved to the large door leading to the street, swung it open and stepped outside. Into whatever life had in store for her. She wasn’t running away anymore. No, she was walking straight into it.

sixteen

The rain was coming down so hard she could barely see when she got to Alec’s house. She’d left her umbrel a at home. It didn’t matter. She was exactly where she needed to be. She grabbed the motorcycle helmet she’d stopped to buy on the way over, tucked it under her arm and, ducking her head, made a dash onto the sidewalk—and hit something with a hard thump. She stumbled, nearly fel . Then a hand on her arm, a grip strong and sure, and Alec’s voice.

“Dylan. Are you okay? What are you doing out here?”

“Alec? I was coming to find you. What are you doing out here?”

“Coming to see you. I have something important to tel you.” Even in the downpour she could see his serious, bril iant blue gaze, his dark brows drawn together. He was without an umbrel a, too, his hair tipped in raindrops, his face dripping. A shiver went through her. Partly from his presence, his broad hands on her shoulders. Partly because she didn’t know what it was he wanted to tel her, if it was good or bad.