“You’re mine, Vivien.” He pulls me into his warm naked chest. “You’re mine. Not his. Mine. Mine. Mine.”
Now it’s my turn to cry, and I’m working hard to hold my sobs inside. To keep shoving that pain back down inside. To not think about this because there is nothing I can do about it. It’s not like I can stay even if I want to. Dillon is right about one thing; it wasn’t supposed to be like this. My heart was not supposed to get involved. It was supposed to be fun, and I could walk away without looking back.
A loud snore rips through my desolate thoughts, and I look up at my boyfriend. He’s out cold. Head back. Mouth slightly open. Oblivious to the emotional torment twisting my insides into knots.
I guess I fall asleep because the next thing I’m aware of is the bed shaking as Dillon gets up. I have no clue what time it is, but my eyelids are too heavy, and they refuse to open. I’m just drifting back to sleep when the bed dips and Dillon wraps himself around me from behind. I smile in my semi-sleep state, loving how safe and warm I always feel in his arms. His lips brush my ear. “I love you, Vivien Grace. You are the one. The only one. For now and eternity.”
57
The bed is empty when I wake next, and sunlight is streaming through a small gap in the curtains. Dragging my tired body out of bed, I pee, brush my teeth, and take a quick shower before changing into a purple, pink, and white full-length summer dress. Slipping my feet into my low-heeled silver sandals, I grab a light, white cardigan and head downstairs.
Ro, Conor, and their girlfriends are in the kitchen, and Ash is standing over the stove flipping bacon. “Where’s everyone else?” I ask.
“Jay is sleeping off his hangover,” Ash supplies, looking at me over her shoulder.
“Cat and the dick left, thank fuck.” Ro’s eyes roam quickly over my dress. “You look pretty today.” Hurt flickers across his girlfriend’s face, and I don’t blame her. I don’t think Ro meant it intentionally, but he should think before he speaks. If Dillon were here, he’d probably punch him for that comment.
“Um, thanks.” I shuffle awkwardly on my feet. “Where’s Dillon?”
“He’s outside.” Conor jerks his head at the sliding double doors.
“I just made a fresh pot of tea if you want some?” Ash says, as I move to the kettle to make some coffee.
“You know me, girl. I need my caffeine fix first.” I make two mugs of coffee and wander outside to find my boyfriend.
Dillon is out on the deck sitting on one of the wicker lounge chairs, leaning forward with his shoulders stooped and head cradled in his hands.
“Hey.” I take the seat alongside him, setting the mugs on the ground. Gently, I place my hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Slowly, he lifts his head. “I’m fine,” he says without looking at me, staring straight ahead.
“Dillon. Please look at me.”
He turns his head, and my heart aches at the tormented look on his face. His eyes are bloodshot, the layer of stubble on his face is thicker than normal, and he looks pale.
“What is it? What’s troubling you?”
“I’d have thought that was obvious, Viv,” he softly says.
I nod, wetting my dry lips. Handing him a coffee, I take a sip of mine. “Are we going to talk about it?”
“What’s the point?” He cups his large hands around the mug, and I rest my head on his shoulder.
“I hate this.”
“Me too.” He threads his fingers in mine, and we drink our coffee in silence, staring out at the ocean in the distance.
“You said some stuff last night,” I say, when we put our mugs down. Panic skips across his face, and his back stiffens. “You don’t remember?”
He shakes his head. “What did I say?”
“That you had something to tell me but you were scared.”
“That’s all I said?” he asks, staring me straight in the eye.
“You mumbled some other stuff that didn’t make sense.” I want to tell him he told me he loved me twice, but I know he won’t want to hear that, and I can’t have that conversation. Yet I am curious as to what secret he was going to divulge.
“It’s nothing.” Pulling his hand from mine, he stands. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I just need a little space right now.”
It’s hard not to feel hurt by that, but I nod.
“I’m going for a walk. I’ll talk to you later.”
I watch him walk off until his form is just a speck in the distance. My heart throbs painfully the entire time.
“Have you spoken to your brother?” I ask Ash on Friday morning. It’s been four days since we returned from Brittas Bay, and Dillon is officially ghosting me.
“Nope. Jay said he’s been locked away in his bedroom all week writing and pining.”
“I don’t get it.” I curl into a ball on the couch, grabbing a cushion and clutching it to my chest. “I might as well have left already. I thought he’d want to spend every last second with me.” Tears fill my eyes, and I angrily swipe them away. I swore I wouldn’t cry over any guy ever again, and look at me now. I’ve been a pathetic mess this past week. I have four days left in Ireland, and I did not plan to spend them crying into my pillow with a new broken heart.
“Aw, Viv. Don’t cry.” Ash bundles me into a hug. “It’s like I said on Monday. Dillon telling you he loves you is huge. H.U.G.E.”
“Don’t make excuses for him. What he’s doing is unacceptable after everything we’ve shared.”
“You’re right. He’s hurting you, and he’s a coward. It isn’t okay, and I’m going to give him a piece of my mind when I next see him. I just want to explain why I think he’s withdrawn. Dillon loves you, like really loves you, and you don’t realize how big of a deal it is he said that. The only time he’s ever told me he loves me is when I tried to kill myself. He was holding me in his arms, crying and telling me he loved me. As far as I know, that’s the only time he’s told anyone he’s loved them since he was a little kid.”
“He doesn’t even tell your mom?”
“Nope.”
“That is really fucking sad.” His family is big on the “I love yous.” I have noticed Dillon never says it back, but I assumed he was just more private about it with his mom.
“I know.” She rubs my back while I stare at the ceiling. “He’s terrified.” She snorts out a laugh, and I look at her, wondering how she finds any humor in this. “Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. I was just thinking how apt that song he wrote you is. He is literally running scared.”
“He doesn’t even remember he said it.”
“Trust me, he remembers.”
“What do I do?”
“You get your sexy Yankee arse into the shower, dress to impress, and then we’re going to Whelans. You’re going to get your man back.”
I don’t see Dillon before their set, but he sings every song for me, staring at my face as he belts out the lyrics. The crowd goes nuts when they debut “Terrify Me,” and I’m glad he didn’t mention me by name when he dedicated it to “his mot.” I don’t think my heart could take another direct hit. As soon as they finish, Dillon hands off his guitar, jumps off the stage, and stalks toward me. Without warning, he pulls me into his arms, hugging me tight. A sob escapes my mouth before I can stop it. “I’m sorry, Viv. I didn’t mean to abandon you all week. It just hurts.”
“How do you think I feel?”
“I can’t bear the thought of you leaving. It’s killing me inside.”
“So, you thought you’d ghost me all week and start the breaking early?”
He moves us off to the side where it’s quieter. “I don’t know how to process this. It wasn’t intentional. I was just all up in my feels, and I shut myself away, pouring my emotions onto the page.” He sweeps his fingers across my face. “I thought it might be easier to go cold turkey, but I was wrong. I’m sorry. I’m no good at this stuff.”
I cup his face, relieved to be back in his arms, even if it’s only delaying the inevitable. “No one is, Dillon. There is no rule book for this kind of thing.”