hours passed, she felt more and more suffocated. She wanted to yell, you don’t know me and you never did. She’d put on an act in high school. She’d felt like she had no choice.
Since she’d arrived at the reception, she’d kept her eye open for Dylan. He might not come, considering the feud between their fathers. She’d spotted Dylan and his dad after the service speaking to her mother, but that was it.
For the three nights since she’d arrived, she’d had dreams about him. Steamy ones that lingered after she awoke, leaving her with a terrible longing for the real thing. Clearly they represented her need to escape her worries about Faye and her grief over her father.
Sex had been all-consuming back then—a desperate need, an undeniable force, a bonfire that had to be quenched or they’d die.
What would sex with Dylan be like now?
The instant the idea crossed her mind he walked through the door, his father behind him. She’d thought of him and he’d appeared. The old magic again. Afraid if he saw her, he might read her mind, she turned and nearly ran for the kitchen.
Stop this. Grow up.
It wasn’t just the sex that was making her think of him. It was the relief of belonging, of being understood, of fitting in at last. That had meant so much to her back then. And now, her emotions were churned up. Who wouldn’t want to escape into a time when all that mattered was being in the arms of the one person you loved above all else, who loved you the same?
But it wasn’t true even then.
Let it go for good.
Here she was, hiding from him in the kitchen. Ridiculous. She decided to see how they were fixed for crab puffs.
CHAPTER FOUR
“QUIT STALKING HER and go talk to her.”
Dylan’s ex-wife’s voice made him turn. He hoped his face didn’t look as red as it felt. “I will when she’s not busy.” He had been tracking Tara since they’d arrived at the reception, catching sight of her as she raced for the kitchen on some urgent errand. The sight of her retreating back had been enough to set his heart pounding. He knew her shape from all sides. The way she moved—quick and graceful as a dancer—was a dead giveaway.
Since then he’d watched her slide from group to group, talking, fetching drinks, motioning waiters over with food. She was gracious and kind, with a smile for everyone, but he knew she was hurting. Even from a distance, he saw the same haunted look she’d had at the hospital.
“We do look a little alike,” Candee mused. “Same hair color, same height, same build, but she’s better proportioned.”
“Don’t do this.” Candee had been convinced their short marriage had failed because Dylan had still had a thing for Tara.
“She’s more...striking. That’s it, isn’t it? She has a celebrity aura. She totally rocks her clothes. That suit is tight, but not slutty, and those heels are quality. Expensive, but restrained.”
“Now you sound like the stalker,” he said, trying to joke her out of this comparison, which he feared would upset her, though they’d been divorced for eight years.
“Anyway, I get it,” she said, a flash of hurt in her eyes. “I see why.”
“You’re beautiful and striking and you have an aura, too.” Dylan hated how she underrated her own attractiveness.
“I do have bigger boobs,” she said on a sigh. “You always liked my boobs.”
“I did. I do. I mean...your boobs are great.” These conversations never went well for him. Candee had moved to Wharton a year after Tara left for college and dragged Dylan out of his lonely cave with her energy and sense of fun. Things progressed quickly and they’d married. He’d been determined to make it work. He’d watched his parents’ marriage fall apart. He wouldn’t let that happen to him.
But it had. Candee became convinced he was still in love with Tara. You built a shrine to her in your head. I can see the candles glowing in your eyes. I can’t compete with a dream. She can’t possibly be as great as you remember.
He’d done his best to change her mind. He loved Candee. Tara was gone. Maybe he was still shell-shocked, still numb from the cascade of troubles—his parents’ divorce, the breakup with Tara, the ongoing strain of helping his father get back on his feet.
To this day, he still regretted that he’d hurt Candee. He’d fought like hell to stay friends. Mutual loneliness had put them