And, damn it! Why were her eyes misting?
Don't make a mountain out of a molehill, Arielle Mitchell.
She turned on the radio and cranked up the volume, singing loudly with the upbeat dance song to muffle the doubting voices in her head.
She slowed down as she reached her apartment building and her heart almost flew out of her chest.
There was Dylan, leaning on his Mercedes, waving to her.
She wound down her window as she stopped next to his car, gaping at him in surprise.
He walked over to the driver's side and poked his head in the open window. "Hi, baby."
"What are you doing here? I thought you said you were too busy to be with me tonight," she said with a touch of frost.
He frowned at her. "You make it sound so cold," he rebuked. "I was going to head home, but I miss you too much. so I drove here instead. I can't stay for the night because if I do I might not be able to get up early for my meeting tomorrow morning. But I was hoping to hang around for an hour or so?"
She stared at him dubiously.
"What do you say, baby?" he asked anxiously.
"Who's Cindy?"
"No one—just some girl who introduced herself to us while we were having drinks. She followed me out when I left the bar but I told her I already have a girlfriend. And right now I'm really hoping that my girlfriend will invite me over to her place, because I think I'm going to go crazy if I don't get to touch her tonight," he said with a cute pout.
She sighed. How could she resist? Her body was already getting excited and readying itself for him.
"What about if I sleep over at your place? That way you don't have to worry about being late tomorrow," she said bashfully.
A wide, relieved grin split his face. "An even better idea."
"We should have planned this earlier. We could have driven straight to your apartment instead."
"I know," he said with a heavy sigh, his face clouding for a second before he blinked it away. "I'll wait for you to pack an overnight bag then we'll head off. I'll follow your car." He moved away so she could park.
*
As Ari packed a small bag, her intuition kept jabbing her.
She felt Dylan had deliberately avoided her in the past week—and work wasn't the sole reason.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
"Will you be here when I get back in a couple of hours?"
Ari smiled sleepily at Dylan. Oh, how good was it to see his handsome face first thing in the morning?
"Most probably not," she answered him. "I have to pick up a few items from the shops, then continue working on the dresses."
Dylan made a face. "If you snooze for a few more minutes, then have a long shower, then have a leisurely breakfast, I'll be back before you're ready to leave."
She touched his cheek, unable to deny him. "Okay, then. But if you're not back in two hours I'd really have to go."
"Deal," he replied happily.
Dylan leaned down to kiss her goodbye, then she closed her eyes and dozed off.
*******
Ari was pouring herself some cereal in Dylan's kitchen when her phone rang.
Sylvie.
Her heart pounded. Her sister hardly called outside of their usual Wednesday evening catch-up calls.
"Hi, Vie," she said cautiously.
"Hi, Ari. How are you?"
Oh no. She could tell from Sylvie's voice something wasn't right.
"I'm okay. What's wrong, Vie?"
"Um, I just want to know if you have any updates on your job search. Have you found a job yet?"
"No. Not yet. Why?"
Sylvie let out a long exhale. "Kenny needs a new prosthesis. He's outgrowing the one he has, and it's making him very cranky when he wears it. He screams at me and tells me he's not going to school and he's not going to rehab unless he gets the new, "cool" leg we promised him. It drives me up the wall sometimes, Ari."
Ari's heart ached for her sister. Life was not a walk in the park for Sylvie. "Oh, Vie. We were expecting this weren't we? We knew he'd need a new one soon."
"It will cost several thousands again, Ari," Sylvie said softly, then started sobbing loudly.
"Vie! What else is wrong?" she asked in panic.
"It's just that...oh, Ari, I'm so sorry," Sylvie cried. "I'm dragging you down with me. It's not even your problem."
"Sylvie! How could you say that? Of course it's my problem, too. You and Kenny are my family, for heaven's sake! Stop being so melodramatic."
She hated it when Sylvie got like this. Her sister always felt guilty that she wasn't earning enough to provide for what her son needed. A stubborn, independent streak ran very strongly in their veins—and in Kenny's, too. As a young seven-year-old, Kenny pushed himself to run every day, so that he could be just like his Paralympian hero. That was why they needed to give Kenny a really good prosthetic leg.