“Ride’s coming,” he said, putting his phone back in his pocket. “Be on the lookout for a grey Hyundai.”
“So that’s a yes. We’re done.”
Dustin scrubbed a hand across his newly shaven jaw, then stepped toward me, wrapping his gloved hands around my waist.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m not trying to be a dick here. I just don’t think it’s necessary for me to go digging into my past. You don’t want to know about every woman I’ve ever been with. I mean, do you want to tell me about every guy you’ve ever slept with?”
“I lost my virginity at grad school when I was twenty-three, to a stranger I never saw again,” I said, “and I’ve slept with seven?—”
“Ride’s here,” he pointed and led me to the car, opened the door, and let me in.
“To Lakeview, Mr. Dustin?” the driver said with a Spanish accent.
“Si,” I said. “Vamos para la casa de él.”
“Ah, muy bien! Hablas Español. De donde eres?” the man asked me.
“España.”
“Pues bienvenidos a Chicago. It’s a very good city.”
I made small talk with the driver as we headed back to Dustin’s place. Dustin put his hand on my inner thigh and stared out the window.
As much as I liked to think we were turning into some semblance of a real couple, there was no denying that his feelings were frozen in by some icy veneer. Though he smiled softly, I could feel his body chilling over. Now I didn’t doubt that as much fun as we had, I was competing with the ghost of some woman he knew almost ten years ago. Part of me didn’t even believe that guys as good looking, with as many options as Dustin had—for goodness sake, he had old college flings showing upnakedat his house—even suffered heartbreak.
But there it was, the melancholy written all over his face.
I continued making small talk with our driver, and after a couple of minutes, he asked the most poignant question. It was a question just like children ask, that cuts to the core of issues.
“Entonces, este es ... tu novio? Tu marido? Otra cosa?”
So, is this your boyfriend? Your husband? Something else?
Something else, something crazy,I was about to say, when Dustin surprised me.
“Soy el marido,” he said, then looked at me and winked. “So don’t get any ideas, buddy.”
“Oh, I see,” the driver said, and obviously tensed up a little after that.
When we got out in front of his house, I gave him a puzzled look. “Really? Do you have to be a dick to the driver?”
“A dick? I was just telling him we’re married. He was pseudo-hitting on you.”
“He was just beingnice. You wouldn’t know about that, though.” I put my hands on my hips and shook my head as he turned the key in his lock.
“Go on,” he said. “Ask me the other question you’re thinking right now.”
I sighed. “Okay, where’d you learn Spanish?”
“I hired a tutor,” he said. “Because we’ve got to have the Skype conversation with your family soon, right? I don’t want to be totally in the dark.”
Just when I thought I had Dustin LeBlanc figured out, he pulled another trick out of his hat. Still, something in my gut told me I needed to find out who this girl from ten years ago was. If it was still affecting him, I needed to know.
He had a skeleton in the closet. Fair enough. We all had one or two, right? What fun was life without them? But I was falling for Dustin in a way I couldn’t quite explain, or articulate. This was getting into dangerous territory, because I was starting to realize I couldn’t stop myself around him, the present moment being a perfect example.
“So,” he breathed against my ear after we had finished taking off our snow-covered boots. “That ice-skating and walking really worked up my appetite. I think I need a Kit Kat.”
“I thought you didn’t eat candy in-season,” I joked.
