I didn’t want to walk in and take him by surprise, so I knocked. I didn’t hear any sound. Shit, he wasn’t here. I decided to knock one more time, a little bit louder.
This time, the door opened. Dylan stood there, tall and handsome, with a blank expression on his face.
“You’re back early.” He turned around and walked back over to a chair. I followed him into the hotel room and closed the door softly.
“I didn’t find any Scottish guys I wanted to bang tonight,” I said. He didn’t laugh. “I’m joking.”
I walked over to him and sat next to him on the couch. He stared at me, his eyes almost bloodshot. There was a decanter of whiskey next to him and a small glass. “Drinking?”
“What gave it away?” He took a sip. “You want some?”
“No, I … Actually, yeah, I’ll have some.”
“Okay.” He stood up and got another glass. “You want ice?”
“Are you drinking yours with ice?”
“Nope.”
“Then no ice for me either.”
He raised an eyebrow. “So you want it straight?”
“I want it straight.” I felt uncomfortable sitting there having this inane conversation with him, but it was a start.
He took off the top from the decanter, poured the brown liquid into the glass, and then handed it to me. “Let me know when you want some more.”
“Okay,” I said, bringing it up to my lips.
“And be careful. It’ll burn,” he said.
“It’s fine.” I laughed and took a long sip and then started coughing as I felt heat in my throat. “Oh my gosh, you weren’t joking. That feels like fire.”
“I did warn you, didn’t I, Abby?”
“You did.” I blinked as tears came to my eyes. “Whoa, that was crazy. I feel like I might cry.”
“Please don’t cry.” He looked uncomfortable. “I can’t stand it when women cry.”
“Fine,” I mumbled. I took a deep breath and tried to get ahold of myself. “So, Dylan, I want to apologize for earlier.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
“I do,” I said. “I really do. I’m sorry that I accepted Barbara’s invitation when you didn’t want to go.”
“It’s fine.” He shook his head. “You were right. This might be the only time I ever get to meet them. I might as well.”
“And I’m sorry for pushing everything else.” I chewed on my lower lip. “I understand why you said the things that you said, and I know you probably didn’t intend to hurt me, but …”
“But what?” he said.
“I know this is an emotional time for you.”
“Oh, no, here we go.” He took another sip of his whiskey. “Is Dear Abby in the house?”
“Ha ha. Very funny.” I shook my head. “I just want you to know that if you need to talk about anything or—”
“I don’t.” He stood up again and paced back and forth restlessly. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and I so badly wanted to know. Instead, I took another sip of the drink. I didn’t want to push anything. I didn’t want to make him angry or turn him away.
“It just sucks, you know,” he said finally, not looking at me.
“What does?” I asked him.
“It sucks knowing that my mom could’ve been in my life, that she could’ve raised us, that she loved us.” He paused and then he looked at me. “It’s hard being a child growing up thinking that no one loves you.”
“I can only imagine,” I said gently.
“I had my brother, of course, and I suppose I was lucky for that. Kent, well, he always loved me. I always knew I had him, but I was more like his protector than his brother, you know?”
“From such a young age, that must’ve been really hard.”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t as hard as it sounds.”
“It must’ve been hard not having a family or parents.”
“You know what was the hardest thing?” he said, coming back to the couch and sitting down.
“No.” I shook my head. “What?”
“Just being at school, hearing other kids talk about their moms and their dads and what they did at the weekend and what they were going to do for Christmas or holidays, and how their dad got them a bike or how their mom took them to the mall to buy clothes, or how they got dating advice or how they got scolded or told they had to get better grades. I had none of that. No one cared if I failed or got A’s. No one cared if I got a date. No one cared to tell me that I should open a car door for a girl or smile and buy her roses. No one cared.”
“Your brother cared.”
“He didn’t know. He was younger than me. When you grew up without parents, you grow up not having a sense of being, a sense of purpose, a sense of self. I didn’t even know I was Scottish until recently.” He started laughing. “Can you believe that I’m Scottish?” I mean, I know I’m American, but my ancestry is something else. Your parents were from England and Guyana, and you have a whole sense of identity based around that. I never knew what that was like.”
“That’s true,” I said, acknowledging what he was saying. “I do. And I’m lucky because I’ve always known that my parents have loved me more than anything. They’ve taught me right from wrong, and they’ve taught me to be a strong, independent woman, and they’ve taught me to believe in love and to dream and to aspire. But you know what, Dylan?”
“What?” he said.
“Even though you didn’t have parent figures, you were still able to make it by yourself. You had drive. You cared enough to make something of your life, and that’s admirable.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m a billionaire. Whoop-de-do.”
“I’m not talking about the money. I’m talking about doing something that you love. And I’ve seen you. You do love your job. It’s not just about the money. Maybe it’s about the power and other things, but it’s not just about the money.”
“That’s true.” He looked at me, surprised. “You’ve been able to tell that?”
“Of course. I sit in the office with you every day.”
“You notice a lot.”
“I do.” I nodded.
“You’re a good secretary, Abby.”
“Do you really think that or are you just saying that?”
“I really think that, or I would’ve fired you.” He laughed.
“Well, thank you.”
He stretched his arm out and placed one hand on top of mine. “You’re a good lover as well.”
“Dylan!” I giggled shyly.
“What?” He shifted closer to me as his fingers moved to my leg.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m about to kiss you, and then I’m going to fuck you.”
“But—”
“But what?” he said, his blue eyes staring into mine intensely. “We were talking, and now we’re done talking.”
His lips pressed against mine and his tongue slipped into my mouth. I loved the taste of him, the feel of him against me. I tangled my fingers in his hair, trying to pull him even closer to me. He stood up, pulling me up with him, and we stumbled over to the bed.