“You’re throwing a party?” Dillon asks, wincing as he sits up straighter. Audrey is packing her supplies away in her medical bag.
I avoid looking at his broad chest and ripped abs because he hasn’t lost an inch of his hotness and I don’t need to be reminded of it right now. Audrey has no such qualms, staring at his body like he was chiseled from marble by Michelangelo.
“I promised Easton he could have some friends over this afternoon.”
“Can I stay?” he asks, and I lift my eyes to his pleading ones. My chest inflates and deflates as I contemplate what to do. “Please,” he whispers, and I can’t deny him after he threw himself in front of a crazy Reeveron fan for me.
“Okay, but you’re here as his uncle, and that’s the way it’s got to be for now.”
“That’s not a problem.” He darts in, planting a kiss on my cheek. “Thank you. I promise you won’t regret it.” He flashes me a giddy smile, and my heart jumps.
“Famous last words, Dil. Don’t make me regret it.”
“So, have you decided to let him in?” Audrey asks a while later as we prepare snacks in the kitchen for Easton’s incoming guests. The police have come and gone, confirming they have the crazy bitch in custody. I will sleep easier tonight knowing that. I glance out the window, needing eyes on Easton to reassure myself he’s okay. I can see Dillon and E in the near distance from here. Dillon is showing him how to spin the yo-yo, demonstrating more patience than I thought he possessed, and Easton is hanging off his every word. It’s fair to say my son has been enthralled by him from the second he climbed into our car.
“Yes, but it will be baby steps. I need to ensure Dillon understands that.”
“I think you’re making the right decision.” She dumps chips into a bowl as I finish slicing the apples.
“You do? I thought you were anti-Dillon.”
“I’m anti anything that hurts you or my godson.” She pops a chip in her mouth while tossing the empty bags in the trash. I wash my hands in the sink while we both stare out the window at father and son. It brings a massive lump to my throat to see them together. “I’m not saying I’ve forgiven him, because he has pulled some terrible shit, but I believe he deserves a chance. If not for him, for Easton.”
I pour two glasses of wine because I have a feeling I will need some alcoholic courage today. “I’ve been trying not to think about him,” I admit, watching him race Easton toward the playground. Dillon is wearing one of Reeve’s shirts because his own clothing is covered in blood. Giving it to him was awkward in the extreme, for both of us, but it’s not like any of my shirts or E’s would fit him. “Seeing him in Reeve’s shirt even feels like a betrayal.”
“Don’t do that.” She takes one of the wineglasses from me. “You aren’t betraying Reeve’s memory by having him here. It’s a messy situation, but it was something none of you knew. Don’t feel guilty for letting him into Easton’s life. It’s the right thing to do.”
“There have been so many secrets and lies, and I’m tired of letting them dictate my life, but how do I forgive him, Rey? How can I ever trust him or believe a word that comes out of his mouth?”
She tilts her head to the side, sipping her wine as she surveys me. “There is no doubt he needs to earn back your trust, and you’re right to be guarded, but answer me one thing. How much was keeping him away to do with Easton, and how much was it because you were terrified to be around him again?”
“Honestly, it was all Easton up until that meeting at his house two weeks ago. Before then, I was too consumed in grief and anger to even remember the other feelings I had for him.”
“And now?” she prompts.
I glance out the window. His blond hair is blowing in the subtle breeze as he pushes Easton on one of the swings, and it makes me nostalgic. One of my favorite things to do was run my fingers through his hair. Seeing him like this reminds me of the Dillon I fell head over heels in love with. I stare out the window, hugely conflicted. They are both laughing, and pain spreads across my chest for a multitude of reasons. “I am terrified.”
“You still love him.” She says it as a statement, not a question.
“How can I after what he did?” I’m speaking to myself as much as to my friend.
“He loves you. You only have to see the way he looks at you to know what’s in his heart, and you have loved him in silence for years.”
“It was so wrong,” I whisper, turning away, unable to look at Dillon any longer.
“You can’t help how you feel. You loved Reeve, and you made each other happy. But he’s not here, and Dillon is. It’s okay to love him, Viv.”
“Jesus, Rey.” I swing angry eyes on my best friend. “Reeve is barely cold in his grave, and you’re already pushing me at his twin?”
“You know I’m not saying that.” She places her wine down and fixes me with a serious look. “I know you. I know what you’re going to do. You’re going to bury the feelings you have for that man”—she jabs her finger toward Dillon—“out of guilt and fear, and I don’t want you to do that. It’s a different matter entirely if you don’t love him anymore, but the kind of feelings you had for him don’t disappear overnight, no matter how much he might have wronged you.”
I gulp my wine, wishing we had never started this conversation.
Audrey’s shoulders relax a smidgeon. “Look, babe, I’m not arguing with you, and I’m not saying you should throw yourself back into something with Dillon. I know you’re not ready to move on yet. I’m just saying don’t close your mind to it and it’s okay if that’s where you end up. You have nothing to feel guilty or ashamed about. Reeve would want you happy.”
I snort out a laugh. “I doubt he’d want me falling into his twin’s arms.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. Reeve knew you loved him. Yes, he didn’t know it was Dillon or that Dillon was his twin, until more recently, but he knew you deeply loved your Irish boyfriend.” She takes a sip of her drink. “I know Simon Lancaster was a bastard, and I hope he’s rotting in hell, but you can’t deny his twin sons share similar characteristics.”
“In what way?” I prop my hip against the edge of the sink, waving through the window at Dave as he arrives to set up the bounce house.
“For starters, they share a manipulative streak.” She drills me with a look. “You can’t deny Reeve had his moments.”
I nod because she’s right. Reeve manipulated my feelings and used my fear and guilt against me during the time he filmed the Rydeville Elite movies and during our breakup. Now I know about the PI in Ireland and the photographer he spent years working with to stage photos, I can’t help wondering how he might have manipulated me during our marriage in a bid to keep me sheltered from that side of his personality. I guess I’ll never know because all his secrets have been taken to the grave with him.
“And all the Lancaster men are hardwired to only love once. It’s an intense soul mate kind of love. Like swans. You’re it for Dillon in the same way you were it for Reeve.”