When we pull up to my building, I jump out with my suitcase after handing Dylan a bunch of bills. “I’ll see you up there, okay? It’s apartment 205.”
“Um…” He tries to give me back the money, but the cab driver is waiting, and I move away too quickly for him to reach me. “Okay.”
I jog up the outdoor stairwell to my second floor apartment and hurriedly unlock the door. Once I’m inside, I drop my suitcase and race through the apartment, grabbing any errant clothes as I go. I throw what I can into my hamper and then begin on food left by Rosita and really obvious hairballs. “Bessie! Balaster! Where are you?”
I find my two cats under the bed, most likely hiding from Rosita’s constant visits.
“Hey, guys,” I say softly.
They come out and rub up against me. “I missed you so much!” I hug them to me tightly and bury my face in Bessie’s fur. “Someone will be joining us in a minute. A new friend of mine. I hope you like him.”
I stroke their fur and try to catch my breath.
“Hey.” Dylan appears in the doorway.
“Hey! That was fast!”
“So, these are Bessie and Balaster.” Dylan kneels down. “Hey, guys.”
Both cats eye Dylan with great suspicion. They haven’t approved of any man I’ve dated, including Joel. Maybe especially Joel.
Dylan is patient, though. He sits quietly and waits for them to come to him. And eventually, they do.
Bessie’s first. She approaches him gingerly and shyly puts one paw up on his leg. He doesn’t move. Feeling more emboldened, she rubs her body against his knee. He reaches out and touches her gently. She arches her back for more.
I exhale. “She likes you. And she’s the leader. So you’re automatically in with Balaster.”
“Oh, yeah?” Dylan scratches Bessie behind her ears. “Cool.”
I keep Balaster in my lap, and Dylan coaxes Bessie into his.
“They don’t like men,” I admit. “So this is kind of…a big deal.”
Dylan’s eyes lock with mine. “It’s a big deal to me, too.”
* * *
“Oh, my God.” My hand goes to my mouth in astonishment as I step out of the cab onto the stone-covered driveway of Dylan’s home in Malibu. His beautiful driveway looks like you could eat off of it.
“Your driveway’s cleaner than my kitchen,” I say to him.
He puts his arm around me. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”
“Will that take two tour guides or three?” I joke.
Dylan just hugs me tighter to him and leads me up to the house.
His home sits ocean-side up on the cliffs. The property is high above the water, but it still has amazing views of the sea and the mountains in the distance. He shows me through the four bedrooms, three and a half bathrooms, an unbelievable kitchen with two stoves and an island, and a living room with floor-to-ceiling windows that look out on the Pacific Ocean below. I’m so overwhelmed I hardly know what to do with myself.
“Your place is amazing,” I say to him as we stand on the outdoor patio off his living room. “I can’t believe this is just your second home.”
But despite how massive the place is, it’s actually homey-feeling and warm, too. I love it. In an I-could-live-here kind of way. I felt it from the moment I stepped inside the foyer, and that feeling followed me through every room in the house.
“Me neither. I just bought it a few months ago. I’ve hardly slept in it.” Dylan pauses and furrows his brow. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever slept here.”
“Why don’t you move here, and get rid of your place downtown?” I ask him.
“The apartment is more convenient to work. When I finish practice, I don’t want to be driving here in rush hour. Colt lives in Malibu, though, just up the road from here, and he doesn’t mind the commute. So it may not be as bad as I’ve convinced myself it would be.”
