The Leftover Club (30 page)

I blink in confusion. “What?
When?”

“T
he same year as the reunion. He called me just before Labor Day, wanted to use me as a model for one of his accounts. And I know it was a shitty, shitty thing to do, but I was kind of messed up back then. I didn’t know who I was or where I wanted to go. It took meeting Li a few years later to really pull my head back out of my ass.”

I do the math in my head. September 1998 was when I slept with Dylan for the first time, and Wade kicked me out… right after fucking one of my best friends from high school. I can tell that Charlie is surprised by my reaction when I start to laugh.
In fact, I can’t stop laughing. I pull her into a hug and squeeze her tight.

“You forgive me?” she asks.

“Forgive you?” I repeat. “I thank you! You just took the biggest weight right off of my shoulders and you don’t even know it.”

“I would have called you sooner but I was so embarrassed. How do you tell your best friend you slept with her husband?”

“You told me now,” I tell her. “And that’s all that counts.”

When Olive and Lionel return, he takes his wife in his arms to lead her to the dance floor. “Good talk?” Olive asks.

“The best,” I tell her. “Turns out Charlie is still a Leftover through and through.”

“Oh yeah?” she says. “That makes two of us.”

I’m stunned by her admission. “What do you mean?”

“Darling, I love you, but I gave up
sausage years ago. Without you there, there was nothing Dylan could offer me I wanted. He took me home, we got high and watched a movie. That was it.”

“Why did you let me believe otherwise?”

“I never said one way or the other. What you believe is your own business.”

I’m aghast. And then the moment I am dreading is upon me. I see Dylan walk in with Bryan at his side. They scan the room and I know they are looking for me. I push Olive in front of me to keep my hiding place a little longer. I peer over her shoulder and watch as they mingle with the crowd. Dylan wears a big smile and Bryan hangs triumphantly off of his arm. All of Dylan’s jock friends from high school don’t know what to make of it, especially when the two handsome men hit the dance floor. Our jaws collectively drop
as they start dancing together to “
Let’s Hear it for the Boy
.”

“What the fuck?” I breathe.

“What can I tell you?” Olive quips. “We have a powerfully seductive conversion program.” She sticks her tongue out to touch her nose and I swat her playfully.

After both Charlie’s and Olive’s revelations, I’m not quite
prepared to believe what I see, even if Dylan is getting into the spirit of things a little too well. By the time they head to the bar, I forget that I’m not speaking to him. I need to know what the fuck is going on.

Charlie sleeping with Wade, she has my condolences.
Bryan sleeping with Dylan? The earrings are coming off and I’m going to cut a bitch.

Dylan stops in front of me where I sit perched on barstool. “
Roni,” he greets softly, and I curse the effect he still has on me after all this time.

“Dylan,” I manage. “Anything you want to share?”

“Maybe,” he says as he grabs a glass of punch. “Ladies first.”

“That’s ambiguous. Maybe we should decide tops or bottoms.”

He laughs. “I’m a top, baby. You know that.”

I shiver all over. God, I have missed him.
“Seriously. I only came because I was offered a front row seat to the event of the season. What do you and Bry have up your sleeves?”

“There’s just no telling. You may have to take me upstairs to a private room and look for yourself.”

“God, Dylan,” I snap. “Why do you feel the need to tease me?”

“Who’s teasing? That’s a bona
fide offer.” His hand touches my hair. “I’ve missed you, Roni.”

I look away before he sees the truth… that I miss him, too, so bad sometimes I can barely breathe. How did anyone ever get over Dylan Fenn?

“How’s Emma?” I ask.

He leans against the railing of the bar. “She’s great.
Fabulous girl. Tremendous cook. And funny.”

I get madder by the second. “Thanks for the detailed analysis.”

He suppresses a smile. “And how’s everything with Bryan?”

“You should know. He is your date, after all.”

“Yeah, funny that,” Dylan says. “All these years and I had no idea he was gay until he showed up on my doorstep and kissed me.”

My eyes swing around to his face. “He kissed you?”

Dylan nods. “Tongue and all. I was so shocked I couldn’t move. He pulls away and announces that one of you ‘bitches,’ as he says, would land me at this reunion. If it wasn’t going to be you, it was going to be him.” His eyes meet mine. “So I guess I’m really hoping you’ll help a friend out here.”

I tilt my chin. “I just want you to be where you want to be.”

He leans forward. “I’m always where I want to be,” he says. “Scratch that. I’m always where I want to be except for the last six months.” His eyes soften. “I’ve been miserable without you, Roni. Every damned day. I want you. Past, present and future, no matter what that means.”

“Watch what you say,” I warn. “You may get more than what you bargain for.”

“More,” he repeats. “I’ve always been terrified of more.” I nod. I know. “But I know now that doesn’t even scratch the surface of how bad it hurts to have less.” He takes my hand in his. “I love you, Veronica Lawless. I always have. And I know now that I always will.”

Tears course down my face. I had been waiting a lifetime to hear those words. “Well, that’s a relief,” I say as I slip from the barstool and smooth my chiffon gown over my slightly protruding tummy.

His eyes widen as he stares down at me. “What? When?”

“Christmas,” I answer. “I had just found out the morning you left.”

“Oh, baby,” he croons as he pulls me into a tight hug. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were being a huge asshole,” I say, which makes him laugh.

“Yeah. That sounds like me.”

“But what about Emma?”

He chuckles as he cuddles me like a teddy bear. “I’m sure her girlfriend will console her.”

“She’s gay?”

“Yeah, I was her beard… or her lipstick… or her mascara. I really don’t know how these things work but suffice it to say, there’s only been one girl for me since she kissed me on a merry-go-round thirty years ago. And if I wasn’t such an idiot, I’d have married her when I had the chance.”

“You are an idiot,” I say through tears. “You’re lucky I love you anyway.”

He pulls back to stare into my face. His eyes are full of tears of their own. He plants a kiss on my mouth that warms me right to my toes, and our unborn daughter dances in my womb. “Promise me one thing,” he says softly. “Never stop.”

I caress his face. “I haven’t yet, have I?”

As if on cue, Kenny Loggins’ “
Forever
” begins to play. I spot Bryan, Olive and Charlie near the DJ’s booth, all of them giving me a thumbs up. Dylan leads me to the dance floor and I fold into his arms. Finally I realize how well I fit, how well I’ve always fit… at any age, at any size, at any place in my life.

I lay my head on his strong shoulder, knowing
I am at home at last.

THE END

Ginger Voight is a screenwriter and bestselling author with over twenty published titles in fiction and nonfiction. She covers everything from travel to politics in nonfiction, as well as romance, paranormal, and dark, “ripped from the headlines” topics like
Dirty Little Secret
s
.

Ginger discovered her love for writing in sixth grade, courtesy of a Halloween assignment. From then on, writing became a place of solace, reflection, and security. This was never
more true than when she found herself homeless in L.A. at the age of nineteen. There, she wrote her first novel, longhand on notebook paper, while living out of her car.

In 1995, after she lost her nine-day-old son, she worked through her grief by writing the story that would eventually becom
e
The Fullerton Family Sag
a
.

In 2011, she embarked on a new journey—to publish romance novels starring heroines who look more like the average American woman. These "Rubenesque" romances have developed a following thanks to her bestselling
Groupie
series. Other titles, such as the highly-rated New Adult serie
s
,
Fierce,
tap into the "reality-TV" preoccupation in American entertainment, which gives her contemporary stories a current, pop culture edge.

Known for writing gut-twisting angst, Ginger isn’t afraid to push the envelope with characters who are perfectly imperfect. Whether rich, poor, sweet, selfish, gay, straight, plus-size or svelte, her characters are beautifully flawed and three-dimensional. They populate her lavish fictional landscapes and teach us more about the real world in which we live simply through their interactions with each other. Ginger’s goal with every book is to give the reader a little bit more than they were expecting, told through stories they'll never forget.

For more, please visit
gingervoight.com
.

Please follow Ginger on Twitter
@GingerVoight
and “like” her
author page
on Facebook for all the latest news on public appearances and new releases.

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