Her words flow out of her mouth and into me.
Is this what this is? An experience? One with an expiration date because I’ve set it up that way?
There’s a convincing smile plastered on my mouth but Robyn listing her life goals is doing something strange to me. It’s like listening to someone tell you what’s going to happen after you die.
We’ve had a fantastic night and I’m happy for her¸ but knowing I won’t be a part of this future she’s so excited about has me twisted up inside in knots I don’t know how to untie.
“I want to go hiking and sailing and travel the world,” Robyn continues, her enthusiasm growing as my trepidation about the entire state of our relationship consumes me. “I want to eat a meal that costs way more than it should in Europe, and have pasta in Italy that fills me so full I look like I’m pregnant with twins. And, oh! I want to go to that toy store in New York. The one in that movie with the giant piano, you know?”
“FAO Schwarz,” I say because it was in a Tom Hanks movie she and I used to watch on my grandparents’ couch on lazy Sunday afternoons.
“Right.” Her eyes are gleaming with excitement while I am wrestling with my own selfish shit. She’s practically skipping ahead while I trail behind.
I want to be the one to take her to the fucking toy store to play on the giant piano, damn it. I want to take her to Europe and Italy. I want to be the one who gets to watch her have these experiences she’s so excited about.
But I won’t be. Because I’ll be on the road, on some bus living like a gypsy while she moves on with her life. With some other motherfucker who’ll get to kiss her sweet mouth and see that light shining in her eyes when she dances across that damn piano. I won’t be the one who gets to watch her dreams come true and that hits me in a place I don’t let anyone affect, ever.
“Ready to call it a night?” I gesture toward the hotel.
Robyn tilts her head at my abruptness. “Yeah. I guess so.”
We ride the elevator to her room in silence. She has this look on her face that has me wanting to kick my own ass. She opened up and I shut her down.
When we reach her door, I see it, the hopeful look of invitation.
I’m going to be invited inside. But I don’t deserve it. And even though I do want this, want her, my head is in the wrong place for this right now.
Before she can say anything I take a step back. “I’m beat, babe. Get some rest and I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”
Wounded surprise flashes in her eyes but she nods. “Okay.” Just as I’m about to turn away, she touches my arm. “Dallas?”
“Yeah?”
“Tonight was . . . really great. It was pretty much the perfect date—for me, anyway. Exotic food, art galleries, and dessert at the coolest place I’ve ever seen. But I know you and none of those are really your idea of a good time. And now you’re not coming in so . . .”
I don’t answer her unspoken question because I’m not entirely sure what it’s going to be.
“I guess I’m just wondering what you got out of tonight.” She averts her eyes in a way that makes me feel like I’ve embarrassed her by making her spell it out for me. I place a finger under her chin and lift so she has to look at me.
“You had a good time?”
“A great time,” she says softly.
“That’s what I got out of tonight.”
I kiss her lightly on the mouth, but I step back before she can wrap her arms around me. Tonight wasn’t about casual sex or getting off and we both know it.
If this goes any further right now I’m going to tell her that we can do this every night. That I would do anything to take back the time we lost. That being on the road would not be nearly as much fun if she weren’t here. That I want more than casual sex. I want to be the one to see her dreams come true, fuck, I want to make them come true.
It wouldn’t be possible and it wouldn’t be right to say any of that, so I place one more kiss on her forehead and let go of her hands. There’s only one way this can go and I need to wrap my head around that and accept it.
Sometimes you don’t get your dream exactly as you wished it. Sometimes you get a solo deal instead of one with your band. And sometimes a woman you are realizing you’re in love with has dreams that don’t include you—that can’t include you.
So I do the only thing that I can.
I walk away.
23 | Dallas
EITHER SOMEONE IS KNOCKING ON MY DOOR OR I CHANGED MY alarm to the sound of hammers on my skull.
“Go away!” I holler, though it’s muffled by my pillow.
The past week has been a blur. I can’t even remember exactly which city I’m in and I don’t necessarily want to yet. I just want to sink back into blissful sleep.
“Dallas Walker Lark, I know you do not think you’re going to just sit in your room alone in New Orleans and not go out and see the town.” Robyn’s voice fills my hotel room. “Move your ass and answer this door. There is fun to be had.”
Ah yes, New Orleans. I make a groaning sound with my face still half in my pillow. Scrambling out of bed and remembering that I decided to sleep nude last night, I wrap the bedsheet around my waist. I stumble to the door and open it, greeting Robyn with “I’m tired. I need sleep, woman.”
“You can sleep when you’re dead,” she tells me, following me back inside toward my bed. “You played an awesome show last night. We have to celebrate.”
She’s right—the show did go well. But it ran so late we didn’t get a chance to hang out afterward. We haven’t had a chance to spend a moment alone since Charlotte. So I have some ideas about how I’d like to celebrate with Robyn. None of them involve leaving this bed. I dive back in and bury my face in the pillow that mercifully blocks the light from the blinds she’s throwing open.
Robyn yanks at my covers so I roll over and grab her wrist, yanking her into the bed with me.
“Wake up, Johnny Cash,” she says with a laugh. “I’ll even let you wear black and the dark sunglasses all around town.”
I inhale her clean, just-showered scent while pulling her in closer to me.
“Get naked, Breeland. Those are the rules of this bed.”
“I’m not technically in the bed.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re on it. Still counts.”
I reach for her but she pulls back. “Come on! There is gumbo and beignets to be had. Street performers to be seen! I’ll even let you order food from something with wheels.” She stands up, leaving the reach of my arms, and I groan.
“I will happily perform for you in this bed all day. Just get naked first.”
A pillow hits me in the head.
“That’s it. You asked for it.”
I jump up in my birthday suit and chase after her in all my buck-naked glory. Robyn runs to the bathroom and tries to shut me out, but I’m a hell of a lot stronger than her so I force the door open and wrap her in my arms. She stops giggling, stares at me with this wicked grin of hers, and I am so owned. But there’s no need for her to know that.
Reaching around her, I grab the shower lever and turn on the water full blast, leaving it completely on cold.
I lift her inside and she screams and squeals so loud it should shatter the glass.
“Oh my God! Dallas! I’ve already had a shower! And that is fucking cold!”
She braces herself with her arms, which provide no shield against the frozen stream whatsoever. But when I look down and her hard pearled nipples are protruding from her white tank top, my focus shifts from punishment to pleasure.
“Lose the clothes and I’ll turn the warm water on.” We’ve been dancing around each other, flirting and making dirty promises, since we agreed to this new arrangement. It’s time to put up or shut up.
“Same rules as your bed then?” The glint in her emerald eyes tells me she’s ready. We’re ready.
Her teeth are chattering so I take pity on her and shove the lever to the warmer side.
“No, baby. Naked in the shower just makes more sense.”