“Is that totally wimpy of me?”
“You don’t have to open yourself up to letting the same people hurt you over and over again, Tavi.”
“You’re a very smart man.”
“He is, isn’t he?” His mom beams at me as she approaches us too. She’s informed us that she’s moving into an apartment with a friend—a singleladyfriend, she says—to give us more privacy when we’re in Tickled Pink. And while I know she’d probably be happy to have Dylan datinganyoneat this point, I also think we’ll become real friends very quickly. “And so happy. Look at that face. Don’t you want to just eat it up, it’s so happy?”
Oh, she made him blush.
This is truly adorable.
I go up on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I do, in fact.”
“Enough, both of you. Tavi, eat. Mom, Marta’s waving at you. Go say hi.”
She squints at him. “Marta told me you told Hannah she should go to marital counseling with Andrew.”
“Yep.”
“That’s borderline rude, Dylan.”
“People shouldn’t constantly bitch about the people they’re married to and having babies with, and I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t express some concern about that.”
“You’re staying friends?”
“We’re staying people who used to be really close but have very different lives now.”
I squeeze his waist.
Am I jealous of Hannah? I have my moments. Still human here.
But am I worried that Dylan would cheat on me with her or leave me for her?
Not at all.
“For what it’s worth,” his mom whispers with a wink at me, “I always hoped he’d do better. Good to see he was holding out for it.”
“Mom.”
“I’m going, I’m going.” She hugs me quickly before dashing off to chat with Hannah’s mom.
We spend the next couple of hours mingling with the party guests. Dylan keeps a full plate in front of him at all times for me to graze off, laughs and jokes with his friends and neighbors, and growls anytime anyone asks me anything that could be viewed as judgypants about my diet.
Shiloh seems to enjoy herself.
Ridhi informs me my debt has been paid and that I even earned myself a coffee on her tomorrow morning. Vegan or otherwise.
That envelope in the back of Dylan’s pocket sits on my mind the entire time.
Pretty sure he knows it, because shortly after Shiloh blows out her candles, he nudges me out the back door.
There’s a patio back here, with groups of people hanging out at the wrought iron tables beneath strings of fairy lights. We find a quiet bench barely still under the light, and he silently hands me the envelope.
“How did you know?” I ask him.
“You kept staring at my ass and frowning. It usually makes you smile.”
Okay,that’sworth a smile.
