14 Valentine Place (28 page)

He set the champagne bottle down so he could loosen the tie around his neck. “It’s warm in here.” He walked over to the thermostat on the wall and adjusted the gauge. He could feel her eyes on him.

“You’re uncomfortable with me. Why?”

He didn’t answer but went back to trying to open the champagne. The cork finally popped, sending a shower of champagne into the air and all over his suit coat. “It figures,” he muttered, reaching for the linen napkin on the room service cart.

“Dylan, you didn’t answer me. You’re making me nervous.”

He glanced at her and saw fear in her eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was to cause her to be afraid of anything.

“I’m sorry, Maddie. This isn’t going to work.” He tossed the linen napkin back onto the cart.

“Here. Let me try.” She reached for the champagne bottle but his hands stopped her.

“I don’t mean that.”

It was then that she realized how serious he was. “You mean us, don’t you?” The words were barely above a whisper, as if she couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“I don’t think this long-distance thing is going to work out. I’m sorry.”

She didn’t speak. By the way her throat moved, he could see that she was struggling to hold back tears, which made it more difficult for him to tell her what he needed to. He couldn’t have felt any worse had someone kicked him in the gut.

He searched for the right words, but knew there was no way to soften what he had to say. “When I saw you with that baby tonight, I realized that you need someone who can give you what you deserve in life,” he began.

“Stop right there. Don’t even tell me you’re breaking up with me for
my
sake.” She clicked her tongue in disgust. “That is so lame.”

“It’s true,” he said quietly.

“You don’t even know if I want a baby. I never said a word about children,” she cried out in frustration.

“You didn’t have to. I saw it in your face.”

She made a sound of disbelief, then looked around at the room at the heart-shaped balloons and flowers.
“You planned this whole evening—” she flailed her arms about her “—so you could break up with me?”

“No, I wanted to make tonight special. I didn’t know we were going to be having this conversation.”

“We’re not having this conversation. I’m leaving.” She reached for her coat and began pulling it on.

“I don’t want you to go.”

“You think I want to spend the night here with you to celebrate getting dumped?”

“I’m not dumping you,” he denied. “If you’d just give me a chance to explain…”

“Explain what? That you
love
me but you need to do what’s
best
for me?” She grabbed her small overnight bag from the closet. “No thank you. That’s not my idea of a romantic Valentine.”

He tried to stop her from opening the door, but she was too fast for him. “Maddie, wait!”

“For what?” she called over her shoulder. “So you can tell me why you don’t want me? No thanks.”

“I do want you.”

She turned and faced him. “Which one is it, Dylan? Either you do or you don’t?”

“It’s not that simple. You were there. You heard what my mother said—”

Again she cut him off. “You’re telling me you’re ending our relationship because of something your mother said about romance?” She looked heavenward in frustration. “I can’t believe it. You tell me to ignore the advice your mother gives me because she’s not qualified to be a romance coach and I break up with Jeffrey. Now all of a sudden she’s an expert and
you’re breaking up with me because of something she said?”

“It’s not fair of me to expect you to be in a long-distance relationship,” he said.

“It doesn’t have to be long distance and you know it. But that’s what’s really bothering you, isn’t it? This isn’t about babies or your mother. It’s about commitment. You’re afraid that what we have could turn out to be more than a casual, make-no-demands-just-have-a-good-time affair.”

He pointed a finger at her. “You told me you wanted the same things as I did.”

She pointed right back at him. “And you agreed with me when I said we had something more than either one of us expected.”

“It’s not enough to…”

“To what?” she challenged him. “Make a
commitment
to each other?”

“I’m not ready to do that.”

“No, and you’re never going to be, are you? Because you’re afraid of turning out like your father.”

“I’m not my father,” he reminded her in a steely tone.

“No? Well, we’ll never know, will we—because you’re too scared to find out.” When he didn’t answer, she started for the elevator. “Goodbye, Dylan.”

He went after her. “Wait. I’ll take you home.”

She ignored him and hurried onto a waiting elevator. “I know my way home” were the last words he heard.

Dylan could only stand and stare as the doors closed.

“M
ADDIE
,
OPEN UP
. I know you’re in there. I saw your light.”

“Please go away, Krystal. I’m not feeling well.”

Her friend didn’t do as she requested. “I’m not going away until you let me in. Come on, Maddie. Talk to me.”

Wearily Maddie padded to the door, turned the lock and said, “It’s open.”

When Krystal entered, Maddie had her back to her as she trudged back to the bed, where she plopped down and pulled her pillow over her head. She felt Krystal’s weight on the bed beside her.

“Tell me what happened,” her friend pleaded.

“Nothing happened,” she mumbled through the pillow.

“You’re supposed to be at the hotel having your Valentine celebration with Dylan and you’re here in your oldest, rattiest pajamas with your pillow over your head. What do you mean nothing happened?”

Maddie knew that sooner or later everyone was going to know she wasn’t seeing Dylan anymore. You couldn’t keep this kind of news a big secret, not when you lived with the guy’s mother. “We broke up.”

“I don’t believe it. You two are perfect together.”

Maddie held up a hand. “Please.”

“For crying out loud, Maddie, will you take that pillow off your head? You’ve got nothing to be ashamed about.”

She pushed the pillow aside. “It’s over, Krystal,” she said, then burst into tears.

Krystal gathered her into her arms and comforted
her as only a friend could do, saying all the things a friend was supposed to say at such a time.

None of them eased her pain, but it was comforting to have Krystal there to listen to her pour her heart out. And to bring her a pint of chocolate chocolate-chip ice cream, which they devoured together.

“You know, Maddie, you should talk to Leonie about this,” Krystal said as she gathered their empty bowls and spoons together.

“I can’t.” Nor could she tell Krystal the true reason for Dylan’s reluctance to commit to a serious relationship. Not without revealing his secret. “She’s Dylan’s mother. I can’t put her in the middle.”

Krystal sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”

Maddie knew she was, but she also knew that if there was one person she’d want to give her advice, it would be Leonie. As soon as Krystal was gone, Maddie got out of bed and went to her computer. She couldn’t talk to Leonie, but she could send her a letter…an anonymous letter.

D
YLAN WOKE THE FOLLOWING MORNING
feeling as if someone had used his tongue as a street cleaner. As he tried to sit up, a sharp pain circled his head, intensifying until he thought he must be sleeping on a pillow made of nails.

He staggered to the bathroom, where he discovered his stomach was in worse shape than his tongue or his head. After being sick, he collapsed in a heap on the floor, which is where he felt he deserved to be. He couldn’t believe he had a hangover. After Maddie had
left, he’d gone to the bar across the street for a few drinks, but not enough to warrant this.

A few minutes later, he managed to shower and get himself together. He discovered just how
not together
he was when he saw his reflection in the mirror.

This should have been a morning on which he’d awakened next to Maddie, made love with her, made plans for the next time they’d be together. Should have been. He wasn’t with her. She was gone. Out of his life.

He didn’t think his day could get off to any worse start. Then he went home. He knew his mom would be upset that he and Maddie had split, but he hadn’t expected the silent treatment from his own mother. She didn’t say one word about Maddie. She didn’t need to. Her silence was more deadly than any words she could have cast at him.

It had always been that way. When he and his brothers were kids and had done something wrong, she’d never yelled or criticized or even punished them. That had been their father’s duty. She’d simply given them a look that said,
I thought you were better than that. You disappointed me.

Today the look said,
You ought to be throttled and hung out to dry.
Then, as he rummaged through the cabinets looking for something to settle his stomach, she said, “You don’t look so good. Are you feeling all right?”

“No, I have an upset stomach,” he told her, then made a dash for the bathroom.

Concern had replaced the disappointment on her
face when he saw her again. “Are you going to be able to travel this afternoon?” she asked.

He wasn’t sure of anything at the moment except that he felt awful. “I’m going to lie down until it’s time to go to the airport,” he told her, then staggered into Jason’s room, where he crawled onto the bed.

He slept until there was a knock on his door. Expecting it to be his mother, he was surprised to see Garret.

“You look awful. Didn’t you shave this morning?” he asked as he approached the bed.

“It wasn’t high on my priority list. What are you doing here?”

“Mom’s worried about you.”

“Me? Don’t you mean she’s worried about Maddie?”

“Maddie’s not the one who looks like something the cat dragged in. Mom says you’ve been throwing up all morning.”

“It was the Scotch I drank last night.”

“Drowning your sorrows, were you?” He pulled the chair away from the desk and set it next to the bed. “You have any pain?” he asked, sitting down.

“No, I’m always doubled up like this. Of course I have pain!”

Garret clicked his tongue. “The abuse a brother has to take. Now be a good boy and let the doctor check you over and we’ll see if we can’t make you feel better.”

“H
E’S WHAT
?” Maddie asked in horror.

“He’s not leaving until Valentine’s Day,” Krystal
told her. “After you left Dylan last night, he went to some ratty little hole-in-the-wall bar to drown his sorrows and ate some wings that weren’t cooked properly or something. Ended up with food poisoning.”

“Serves him right,” Maddie said smugly, although she had to fight the urge to run downstairs and see him.

“Garret says he’s pretty miserable.”

“Good.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“You’re right. I don’t.”

Krystal sat down next to her on the love seat. “Why don’t you go downstairs and talk to him? Maybe you two can work things out.”

She shook her head. “I’m not going to do that. I can’t.”

Krystal spread her hands. “Okay. You want me to keep you posted?”

“Would you?”

“Of course.”

“Nothing’s going to change between us, Krystal.”

Unfortunately, her friend didn’t disagree.

S
HANE ENDED UP
taking Dylan to the airport, because Leonie had a Valentine’s Day luncheon she couldn’t miss. Noticing that his brother was still pale, he carried both of his suitcases for him, saying, “You sure you don’t want to wait another day or two before you leave?”

Dylan didn’t want to wait. Having to spend the extra days at his mother’s knowing that Maddie was in the
same house had been an additional source of pain for him. He’d get on the plane and suffer if need be.

“I’m a little weak, but it’ll do me good to get back to the sunshine,” he told his brother as they headed for the departure gate.

To Dylan’s relief, Shane didn’t say a word about Maddie. No one had—except Garret, who hadn’t been able to resist saying, “I warned you not to get any ideas about Maddie.”

“I’m glad you came home, Dylan,” Shane said as they said their goodbyes. “It was good to see you.”

“I feel the same way,” he told his brother.

“I hope that means we don’t have to wait another two years before we see you.”

“I don’t think so,” he said, but he knew that since Maddie and he had broken up, he wouldn’t be coming back to Saint Paul as often as he’d planned.

When the boarding call for his flight was announced, Dylan gave his brother a wave, gathered his laptop and his carry-on and headed for the gate. It felt strange to be leaving—almost as strange as it had felt when he’d come home. In a little over a month he’d once again started to think of Saint Paul as home.

A perky, young flight attendant helped him with his carry-on bag, then saw that he was comfortably seated in the first-class section. “Would you like something to read? Magazine, newspaper?” she asked, with a smile that told him she’d be open to other things if he wanted to inquire what they were. He didn’t.

“No, thanks,” he told her. “I have the paper.” It was the last thing his mother had shoved at him this
morning when they’d said their goodbyes. He’d tucked it into his laptop briefcase and pulled it out now.

It wasn’t the daily news, but a smaller local paper. On the front page was a story about Valentine’s Day. Next to it was a Post-it note from his mother. It was heart shaped and said, “Just in case you want to see your mother’s work.”

He found the page she’d indicated and began reading, smiling at the words his mother had chosen to use in her responses.

Then he got to the last letter. It said,

Dear Leonie: I’m in love with a wonderful man who says he loves me. The problem? He carries around the burden of being the only one who knows that his father cheated on his mother. It’s a secret he’s kept from his mother and the rest of his family. Now I’m afraid this destructive secret has destroyed our love.