Jasalie
Dylan left. He gave me a key, bared his heart, and then he just…left.
I can’t let him go like that.
Theresa and Lilla are huddled together with big smiles on their faces.
“Don’t even think of asking if you need to stay,” Theresa says to me as I approach them. “The last customer just departed.”
I glance around the room. Sure enough, the gallery is suddenly empty for the first time tonight.
“Looks like you have a man to meet,” Theresa continues with a wink. “So don’t let us hold you back, honey. Go get him.”
I look at Lilla. “Did you tell him where I’d be tonight?”
“Of course I told him!” she says happily. “He called me at his wit’s end. So go get your happily ever after, Ms. Gordon. And remember, we’re in Hollywood, so make it a good one!”
I hug Lilla tightly before turning and rushing out the front door.
I don’t count on the absolutely pouring rain that hits me in the eyes as soon as I step outside. I look from left to right, but the streets are empty.
Then I see a lone figure leaning up against the wall of the building a few feet away.
“Dylan!” I call out to him.
He looks up. “Jasalie, wait. You’re going to get soaked—”
But I’m already running toward him.
As soon as I reach him, he pulls me underneath the awning he’s been standing under. Then he takes my hand and leads me down the alley by the gallery where a lone town car is parked.
“I was driven here,” he explains to me as he opens the back door and ushers me inside. “At least this way we can talk out of the rain.”
He nods to the driver in the front seat. “We’re not ready to go anywhere yet, Richard. Why don’t you get some dinner on me?”
Richard’s already grabbing his umbrella. “Sounds fine, Mr. Wild. Just call me when you’re ready.”
As soon as Richard’s gone, Dylan raises the partition between the driver’s seat and us.
“For extra privacy,” he explains to me. “And the windows are tinted.”
“No one can see in?” I ask him.
“No. Not that there’s anyone outside right now. People in Los Angeles kind of hate the rain.”
I laugh. Rain water is still all over my hair and face. This isn’t exactly how I would have scripted it. And I’m not sure where to begin.
Dylan hands me some tissues from the console, and I dry my face quickly before facing him. His gaze travels hungrily over my body and then across my face. “I’ve missed you, Jasalie.” He swallows. “I did it to myself, but God, I missed you.”
“Dylan. I appreciate the key so much.”
His face flushes. “I’m glad,” he murmurs.
I clear my throat. “I’ve been trying to…you know…be worthy of this.”
His eyes burn into mine. “You’re already worthy, Jasalie. You don’t need to pass some test to deserve love. I’m the one who fucked everything up. Please, please don’t blame yourself.”
“I’m not blaming myself,” I say, feeling like my words are coming out all wrong. “I only meant that there was a part of me that needed the time apart. As brutally painful as it was to be away from you, I had some things I needed to do on my own. And it’s almost like, if I’d been with you, I may not have done them the way I did them. Does that make sense?”
