It wasn’t about the house, or the rock shows, and speedboats, and luxurious trappings of fame, it was him. Just a glance could make my heart race. A single touch set my body on fire. Hanging out in a dive bar playing pool was the most fun I’d ever had.
He made me feel alive.
I push my food away and grab my laptop, settling on the sofa with a glass of wine. I meant to check emails, focus on work to drown out the whispers in my mind, but instead, I find myself clicking to a search engine and typing in his name.
The Reckless to reform for one-off tour.
Greatest Hits coming in fall—with bonus new tracks.
Dex Callahan pictured leaving the studio in LA.
The Reckless booked for MTV awards in Las Vegas this weekend.
It’s the only way I have of tracking his life now. Every night, I promise myself I’ll move on, but I still wind up staring at my computer screen, wondering what the story is behind the snapped photo.
Is he happy now? How is Tegan doing? Is he excited about playing new material, or is he still worried about going on tour again?
He’s a million miles away, and his silence is deafening.
I click through the search results, looking for something new. Then I see it, a gossip item from today.
Dex Callahan and Jamie Keller: hot new couple?
The headline makes my heart clench in my chest. There’s a blurry photo of Dex leaving a restaurant with some Hollywood actress, and even though I can see Austin and Tegan in the group, it still rips me in two.
He’s moving on. I’ve lost him forever.
The sadness welling up inside me is unbearable. I feel paralyzed, hating myself for obsessing over someone yet again. But this is different from Hunter. This was real, Dex could have been mine, but I didn’t take that leap. Even if I called him, what would I say?
It’s too late. It’s over now.
I slam my laptop shut. I can’t stand the empty apartment anymore, so I grab my purse and go the one place that will give me some comfort, where I can wallow without judgement; and with carbs.
I go home.
**
My mom is fixing lasagna when I let myself in, and the whole house smells like a delicious Italian restaurant. I make my way to the kitchen, and find her standing over the stove, humming along to the radio.
“Sweetheart!” She brightens, pushing back a lock of the same red hair I inherited. She’s wearing her favorite blue apron over jeans and a loose linen shirt, putting down her wooden spoon to envelop me in a soft, warm hug. “You didn’t say you were coming. I thought you were snowed under at work.”
“I am, but I couldn’t miss Friday night dinner.” I go to rinse my hands. “Give me something to chop.”
Mom directs me to a bowl full of vegetables, and soon I’m working out all my frustration on a paring knife and some cucumbers.
“You know, you can talk to me.”
I look up. She’s watching me with a concerned expression. “I know you like your privacy, but I’m worried about you, sweetheart.”
“You and Lily should form a club,” I remark wryly, but Mom just gives me a knowing look.
“You always keep everything bottled up inside. Even when you were a kid.”
“I don’t bottle,” I object. “I just don’t make a big drama out of everything. I like to think things through rationally.”
“Sometimes a drama is what you need,” she points out.
I sigh, remembering the terrible scene at the wedding: the tears and yelling and humiliating exit. “Believe me, I’ve had enough to last me a lifetime.”
Mom lets me go back to cooking for a moment, then her voice comes again.
“What’s his name?”
I freeze, giving her a guilty look. “Nobody.”
She chuckles. “I may be old, but I know what heartbreak looks like, sweetie.”
I pause a moment, staring down at the stove. “Dex,” I admit. It’s why I came here, after all. I want my mom to comfort me, and tell me everything’s going to be OK.
“And this Dex broke it off with you?” Mom prods.
“Yes. No,” I sigh. “I don’t know. Everything happened so fast,” I explain, quickly telling her about the time at the beach house—minus the more scandalous details. “We barely knew each other and suddenly he was talking about love, and marriage. That’s crazy, right?”
“Only if you didn’t feel the same way.” My mom tastes the sauce, and then adds some more herbs.
I frown, surprised at her response. “It doesn’t matter how I felt, you can’t just go diving into a relationship like that, not if you want it to last. He was all wrong for me, anyway. He lives this crazy lifestyle, he’s impulsive and reckless, and…”
I trail off, suddenly hit with a stab of longing so intense, it takes my breath away.
Mom smiles. “A bad boy, huh? I had one of those.”
“What?” I exclaim. “What about dad?”
“Before him,” Mom sighs, smiling at the memory. “Jean-Claude, he was a foreign student from France. He drove a scooter, which was the height of glamour to this small-town girl.”
I giggle. “I can’t believe it, you’re always saying how dangerous motorcycles are.”
“I know,” Mom laughs, “But something about him was…intoxicating. I didn’t care about anything else, being with him was such a thrill.”
“So what happened?” I ask, fascinated. I never imagined my mom being young and reckless, she and my father seem like such a stable, reliable team.