“That sounds great. I can miss another day of work on the back end. I just think it’s important you see your uncle. I don’t think I could forgive myself if I were the reason you missed out on getting there in time.”
“Don’t say it like that,” Dylan says. “Me not seeing Uncle Irv has nothing to do with you. My parents won’t even be there. They’ll still be in L.A.”
“Well, I’d like to see the town you grew up in.”
As I say it, I realize that it’s true. I’m curious.
Dylan smiles. “I can’t promise any romantic nights like we just had. It’s pretty much a one-horse town.”
I smile at him. “Are you afraid you can’t impress me enough in Montana? You think you need your fancy houses and planes to do that?”
Dylan blushes. “No, that’s not it.”
“Oh, really?” I grab his hand. “What is it then?”
“It’s nothing.” He looks away from me. “I don’t know. It’s not really me back in Wilcox. I’m different than all of that now.”
“But you came from there. You can learn a lot about a person when you see where they came from.”
“True.” He brushes a hair off my forehead. “I’ll arrange for the plane to be ready in the afternoon, and that way, we’ll have time to hang out here beforehand.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
When I wake up the next morning, I’m the only one in the bed. Even Bessie and Balaster are nowhere to be seen. I panic as I get dressed because I forgot to buy perfume yesterday. And I chastise myself for forgetting.
“Good morning.” Dylan greets me with a kiss as I enter the kitchen. “Bessie and Balaster followed me out of bed. They’re enjoying the morning sun.”
He points at the two of them sunning themselves by the window.
“I have to go,” I say in response.
“What?” He flinches like I’m about to flee.
I know he’s reading my energy, and my energy says I want to bolt right about now. I woke up thinking about my mother and how I can get her the money. But I’m not about to leave the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I just need a moment alone to gather my thoughts.
I smile calmly and try to breathe. “I just have to go to the department store. I never went yesterday.”
“Can I come?” he asks me.
“No.” I kiss him. “Can I borrow your car, though? The least expensive one.”
Dylan gives me the keys to his Mercedes.
“No. Least expensive.”
“That is the least expensive.”
“Jesus, Dylan.” I groan. “What happened to a used sedan or a pick-up truck?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I drove those growing up but not in a while.”
“I think you should drive my car. We’ll go to my apartment later, and you can drive my ten-year-old, beat-up sedan. Just for kicks.”
He laughs. “All right. I’ll be here when you get back.”
I have the urge to ask him if I can have that in writing, but I restrain myself. I wave good-bye and leave for the department store.
* * *
