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It buzzes and he grumbles under his breath. My first thought is that something else has popped up with his work, but he slides his phone back into his pocket after a hasty glance at the screen.
He’s avoiding something there, and I suddenly want to know what.
“What was that about?” I ask.
He grunts, drinking his wine instead of answering.
Well, I can’t hold that against him. He doesn’t have to tell me. I don’t feel like I’m being overly nosy. I did share with him earlier, telling him about my predicament, but that doesn’t mean he necessarily should be obligated to return the favor.
Then he gives in, sighing before reluctantly admitting, “That was my ex.”
I raise my brows as I stare at the sky. “Oh.”
“She’s been texting me.”
“A lot?”
He nods. “Even once would be too much.”
Yikes. I feel like I might have stumbled upon what makes him so default grouchy.
“So…it’s not a good thing?”
“No.” His voice is flat and hard, but this time, his ire isn’t directed at me. “She cheated on me.”
My shoulders sag as I turn toward him. Sadness and sympathy wash over me, and I wish I wasn’t so stuck in avoiding him that I could offer him a hug. I sigh, hating the pain in his simple reply. My heart—guarded or not—hurts for him. “Do you want to talk about it?” Maybe that’s the best I can do, be a sounding board for him to vent to.
I’m surprised when he seems to take me up on that offer. He stretches, propping his feet up on the side table as he gets more comfortable on the lounger and relaxes against my side.
“I found her sleeping with one of my main business rivals. She told me she was staying late at work because I was tied up with a meeting that turned into a dinner party. Someone was retiring at my offices, and it was a good excuse to hang out at my workplace. It didn’t take all night, though, so when I headed home, I wasn’t counting on seeing her in my bed with him.”
“You lived together?” I ask.
He nods.
“It was serious?”
Again, he bobs his head. “We were together for four years. Caleb used to say she was crimping my partying style and that she was going to end my bachelor days. She almost did. I planned to propose to her that very night. After the retirement party, I realized life is short. Seeing my colleague leave his career reminded me that I was only getting older. So I decided as I rode the elevator up to my penthouse that I would pop the question that night.”
This is terrible. “Dalton. I’m so sorry.” How awful, to head home so full of hope and excitement, only to find it ending. It had to be similar to when I received the call about my parents’ car crash. One moment, I was looking forward to the future, the next, I was devastated.
Loss is hard.
“She confessed to sleeping with him—in addition to a few others, too—for a long while. It cut me deeply, and I’m still not sure how to move on from such a severe betrayal like that. Johanna wasn’t a fling. We were a couple for years, but I was the only one who valued it.”
“That’s not right.”
He sighs again, gazing up at the sky with a pensive expression. “I’ve sworn off dating since then.”
“When did you break up?”
“A year ago now. Since I found her cheating, I shut down.” His shrug seems like an apology. “I’ve been putting up a wall, and I’m not sure why I shouldn’t. I haven’t been in the mood to even try to get close to anyone.”
I frown at my wineglass, trying to avoid the feeling his comment sparks in me. His remark hits me right in the chest. It aches, and I want to cringe over the uncomfortable sensation of knowing exactly what he’s talking about. He’s been withholding himself from dating, from the world, and I can understand that.
I went through that curling-in-on-yourself aloofness. I felt it after my parents died, and I was left alone in the world. I’ve been going through it again as I struggle to move on past the loss of my career and future. I understand Dalton in this aspect, and I’m faced with the fact we’re alike. Neither of us are in the market for a relationship. We are not allowing ourselves to be emotionally available. I realize this.
But I still can’t ignore this nagging thought. The little stubborn voice in the back of my head pipes up. I can’t silence it completely. I do like Dalton. I’m drawn to him with a push-and-pull force. I loathe him but don’t. I respect him but wish I didn’t. This idea of wanting to learn more about him and spend time with him won’t go and stay away, and my interest keeps coming back stronger.
