Only In Dreams (Stubborn Love Series)

by Owens, Wendy

  “So true,” he says, glancing over his shoulder. “Ready for that surprise dessert?”

  I groan, “Oh my God, I can’t fit another bite.”

  “Not even if it’s your favorite?”

  I pause, investigating his expression. He can’t possibly remember all these years later, can he? “No way,” I say dismissively.

  He walks into the kitchen and returns with a covered dish. I watch in disbelief as he reveals the most divine looking German chocolate cake.

  “Shut up!” I exclaim.

  “From scratch, just for my Paige,” he boasts, placing the enormous cake in front of me. “Oh, I forgot a knife, I’ll be right back.”

  “Don’t bother,” I call after him, picking up my fork and proceeding to cut off the most massive hunk the utensil can hold before shoveling it into my mouth.

  Christian busts out laughing at my display. With crumbs spraying out wildly, I defend myself, “It’s German chocolate cake, which means it’s not my fault.” Of course he can’t understand a word I say. He walks back over to the table, and I scoop off another bite, feeding him a taste. I don’t even think about it. I should have, but I didn’t.

  He takes hold of my hand, guiding it in, as it nears his mouth. There’s an electricity between us as our skin touches. Damn it, Paige, no physical contact, and this one is your fault.

  I drop the fork and back away. I know he can see the horror in my eyes. The regret. Even our hands touching is more than I am okay with.

  “I better go,” I say. “It’s getting late.

  “Paige, it was just some cake,” he pleads.

  “No— it was fun. It was a fun night. Thank you. I’m just tired, and I have a full day tomorrow.”

  “Please, I’ll walk you back. I just need to lock up real quick.”

  “Don’t be silly. You made dinner. I think I can walk a few doors down on my own.” I don’t wait for him to reply, but rather, I race out the front door as fast as I can, heading straight in the direction of the gallery and a safe, Christian-free place. The entire evening had been perfect. The food was delicious. He made me laugh, he shared stories, he listened, and then I had to go and screw it up at the end.

  I tiptoe up the stairs, careful so Colin and Emmie don’t hear me. It’s not extremely late, but I know if Emmie finds out I am back, she’ll want to ask me a million questions. I know this because I was the same way when she and Colin started dating.

  I flop down on my bed, lying there for a moment, just staring up at the ceiling. My phone vibrates. Three missed calls from Henry. He’ll have to wait until morning. I close my eyes for a second, and suddenly sleep envelops me.

  THE SUN POKES itself into my room. I reach out my arms, enjoying my morning stretch and yawn to the fullest, feeling my spine crack as I do. Immediately, I lean over and grab my phone, flipping through my music options. “Moth’s Wings” by Passion Pit catches my eye, and I hit play.

  As I hop to my feet, my hips and hair swaying to the music, an image of a bad eighties movie flashes through my mind, and I can’t help but smile. In this moment I don’t really care if I look absolutely ridiculous. I’m not a morning person, but on this particular morning, I’ve awoken feeling absolutely amazing, and I’m not about to squander it.

  There is a knock at the door, but I don’t notice, surrounded by the music and the moment. “Work it, girl!” I hear Emmie’s voice behind me.

  Panting, I turn and see her smiling back at me, leaning against the frame of the door, watching my every move. I bend in half at the waist, laughing, and attempt to hide my face.

  “Oh no—please don’t stop on my account,” she insists.

  “Shut up,” I growl, collapsing onto the bed, snickering.

  “I came up because I thought something must be wrong,” Emmie continues, standing upright and moving directly across from me.

  “Huh? What are you talking about?”

  “You know it’s Saturday, right?”

  “And?”

  “You don’t wake before noon on Saturday, let alone start your mornings off dancing,” Emmie teases.

  “Maybe I’m becoming a morning person.”

  “Yeah,” she scoffs. “Somehow I doubt that. Does this mean your date with Christian went well last night?”

  “It wasn’t a date,” I correct her, avoiding the question.

  “When everyone is calling it a date except for you, it doesn’t make it any less of a date.”

  “Whatever,” I add dismissively, grabbing my phone and flipping through the music choices. “Bruises” by Chairlift is my next selection. I press the genius playlist option, and then return the phone to the speaker dock on the nightstand.

  “Well?” Emmie pushes. She clearly isn’t going to let this rest until she gets all the details.

  “Since when does Christian cook?” I inquire, thinking back on the evening.

  “He’s good, isn’t he?”

  “Not bad.”

  “How was the German chocolate cake?” she asks.

  I look at her, narrowing my glare. “How did you know?”

  “Really? I knew what he was planning days before you did.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “And suffer the wrath of Colin and Christian? No way, you’re on your own with this one, girl,” Emmie replies, collapsing on the bed next to me.

  I prop myself up and look into her eyes, watching for any sign she might be hiding something else from me. “What does he have planned for date number two?”

  She grins. “I thought they weren’t dates.”

  “You know what I mean,” I huff, falling back.

  “Actually—I have no idea what he has planned for your next date.”

  I groan, frustrated with the entire situation. Even if he somehow manages to get me to concede, I might still have some sort of feelings for him, it doesn’t change how I feel about Henry. Christian and I lost our shot at a happily ever after.

  “You really have no intention of telling me how it went last night, do you?”

  “It went fine,” I offer.

  “I’ll take that as you had wild and crazy sex and that you ate cake off each other’s naked bodies.”

  “If you had balls, I’d kick you in them.”

  Emmie laughs. “Then tell me, or I’ll have to let my imagination loose on the evening.”

  “Jesus, you’re relentless.”

  She grins confidently, grabbing a pillow, and wrapping her arms tightly around it. “Yup, but that’s one of the many reasons you love me.”

  I prop my back up against the small headboard, the metal frame digging into my shoulder blade. Shifting, moving another pillow into place behind me, I debrief my friend of the evening’s details. I tell her about the conversations that were had, the delicious meal he prepared for me, and then the way I ruined everything.

  She stares at me, contemplating the details. I wish she’d say something, anything. “Well?” I prod.

  “So he didn’t kiss you or violate your rule in any way?” she clarifies.

  “No, he was a perfect gentleman.”

  “And you freaked out because his hand touched yours?” she continues, a disbelief in her voice.

  “Yeah, that’s what I said. Why?”

  “I’m just trying to figure out who in the hell you are?”

  “What the fuck?”

  She shakes her head, and then locking eyes with me, explains, “You’re the girl who always does whatever she wants, no matter the consequences. You freaking graze his hand and you flip out? You’re afraid, aren’t you?”

  “I am not afraid!”

  “No, it … it makes sense now,” she stammers, connecting the thoughts in her head. “You know you still love him, and that’s why you’re afraid. Jesus, how didn’t I see it before?”

  “You need to stop, I’m serious. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I warn.

  She reaches out and scoops my hands into hers, squeezing tightly. “You helped me
when I was afraid.”

  I pull away, standing and turning away from her. “I’m not kidding. You need to fucking stop it!”

  “Don’t be pissed, I’m just telling you what I see,” Emmie says defensively, shifting uneasily on the bed.

  “These dates were a mistake,” I say, beginning to pace.

  “Probably,” she agrees.

  “What do I do?” I ask, hoping she actually does have answers that might help, because in this moment, I’m absolutely clueless.

  “How do you feel about him?”

  “Who?”

  “Christian.”

  “I don’t know …” I reply honestly.

  “Then I think you need to start with figuring that out,” she recommends.

  I finally stop my pacing and sit down on the edge of the bed. I don’t look at her when I ask. I’m afraid of what else she might see. “Do you think it’s possible to be in love with more than one person at the same time?”

  She’s quiet at first, considering my question thoughtfully. “I think a person can love more than once in his or her life. I don’t think your heart can be divided equally between two people at the same time, though. There is always one you’d rather be with, one you think about when you’re away from them, one who makes life its best when they’re with you.”

  I look at her. “I think that’s Henry.”

  “You need to know it’s him,” she urges. She opens her arms, and I fall onto her shoulder, letting her warmth wrap around me. Sighing deeply, I know she’s right, but I just don’t know how to be sure.

  “Have you talked to Henry lately?” she asks me.

  I don’t move, content in my friend’s embrace. “Yeah, I think he can sense something.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “He seems standoffish. Honestly, it’s been weird between us since he went home,” I explain.

  “Why do you think that is?” she asks.

  “I wish I knew. I keep thinking I should just get on a plane and head back home.” She’s quiet, and I’m surprised my revelation didn’t provoke a reaction. “Is that what you think I should do? Fly home?”

  “Do you really want me to answer that?” she questions.

  I sit up and turn to look at her. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to answer.”

  “If you want to marry Henry, you probably should go home,” she answers cryptically.

  “That isn’t any kind of answer at all,” I snap.

  “I can’t tell you what to do, and if that’s what you’re looking for, it’s not going to happen.”

  “So you think if I stay I’ll end up with Christian?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “No—you’re not saying anything,” I huff. I watch as she stands and walks to the window. She peers out, something haunting her. “You clearly have something to say. Why don’t you just say it?”

  She turns; the look in her eyes is filled with pain. She doesn’t want to have this conversation.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I demand.

  “You don’t want me tell you, trust me,” she groans.

  “Please, just tell me why you’re being so weird.”

  “Paige, Christian loves you.”

  “I know, he keeps telling me that. What’s your point?”

  “He’s back. He’s him again. Olivia has her uncle, and Colin finally has his brother back. I just don’t want things not to work out and—” She stops herself, starting to fidget, refusing to make eye contact.

  “You don’t want me to fuck him up again,” I snap, her apprehension suddenly obvious.

  “I didn’t say that,” she quickly defends.

  “You didn’t have to, I can see it all over your face.”

  “No, that’s not it. It’s just—”

  “Say it!” I demand.

  She shifts her gaze up to mine, bites her lips, and with a deep breath she tells me, “If you have no intention of leaving Henry, then you should probably stop this now. Maybe you should go home.”

  “Hey, what’s going on up here?” I hear Colin’s voice, right before he enters the room.

  “Oh,” Emmie quickly says, scurrying across the room to wrap her arms around her husband. “Nothing, we were just talking about what Paige has planned for the day.”

  Colin’s eyes shift between us. He can see that something is going on between us, but he can’t seem to figure it out. “Okay—well I just wanted to let Paige know she has a visitor in the gallery.”

  “I do?” I ask, pressing my lips together curiously.

  “It’s Christian,” he explains.

  “Oh,” I say, nodding. “Can you let him know I’ll be right down?”

  “Sure,” Colin says, turning to exit. He hesitates, turns back and looks at us. “Are you sure everything’s okay in here?”

  Emmie and I both nod.

  “Things are fine, go tell Christian she’ll be right down,” Emmie instructs, practically shoving him out of the room. She wastes no time once he’s gone. She turns and walks straight over to me.

  “Hey, come here.” She reaches out, and I stand and face her.

  “What?” I groan, still annoyed only moments ago she told me to go back to New York.

  “Listen, I love you like a sister. Christian is my brother now, and I’d love nothing more than the two of you to get back together. If there’s a chance, I say go for it. All I’m saying is, if you’ve made up your mind, and you’ll be marrying Henry no matter what, stop this now.”

  “Maybe I should tell Henry about the three dates.”

  “If you tell him, there’s a good chance he’ll call off the wedding. Are you prepared for that outcome?” Emmie asks.

  I shake my head.

  “Then I say you wait. Just promise me, if you keep going down this path, you’ll be as gentle as you can with Christian. We can’t lose him again.”

  “I promise,” I agree. It is hard to be upset with Emmie for being protective of Colin’s brother. Her loyalty is amazing. I know this.

  “You better go see what he wants,” she adds, then hugs me tightly.

  I RACE DOWN the stairs still distracted by the conversation I’d just had with Emmie. So distracted, in fact, I don’t notice I am wearing sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt still. When I duck through the curtain into the gallery, I don’t see Christian right away. Moving into the room a few steps, he comes into view, standing at one of the side windows peering out.

  Emmie’s words keep going through my mind. Maybe she is right, I still have every intention of marrying Henry. Perhaps it is time I put an end to this charade.

  As I watch him silently, he lifts a hand, running his fingers through his raven hair. The strands fall perfectly into place, framing his face. I take a deep breath, letting him know I’m there. I’m in awe of the way he looks as the sun shines in on the bridge of his nose. He turns and smiles at me, but I’m not looking at his smile.

  My eyes wander to his body, his strong forearm flexes as he holds something on the other side of his body, out of my sight. I’d always thought his lips were the picture of perfection, and now I am even more convinced as I peer at them, now slightly parted. The top lip always lifts higher on the right side, but the crookedness is part of his charm.

  “I like it,” he says, without a formal greeting. I glare, puzzled, but then see his gaze focused on my outfit.

  I shrug. “Casual Saturdays, what’s up?” I want to delay the talk I know needs to be had.

  Moving around to one side, Christian pulls an antique wooden body form from behind him. “You took off so fast last night I didn’t have a chance to give you the surprise I’d gotten for you.”

  “What?” I gasp in disbelief, scurrying across the cool concrete floors in my bare feet, to run my hands along the form. “Where did you get this? It’s amazing.”

  “I spotted it at the flea market I went to in Austin last week. As soon as I saw it, I thought of you.”

  “Oh my God, look
at this thing, it’s gorgeous.”

  “Yeah,” he continues, and with a couple flips and turns of a mechanism hidden in the rear of the mannequin he proceeds to show me the magic that hides within it. “You can adjust hip and waist size with these parts right here.”

  “Get out!” I exclaim, slapping his arm with the back of my hand.

  “I take it you like it then?” he asks, his face eager with anticipation.

  I smile. It is a so thoughtful, but how am I going to tell him that our first date was now our last date as well. “I love it, thank you.”

  I reach a hand to shake his. He looks at the extended limb and chuckles, but shakes it nonetheless. It feels as awkward as I thought it would.

  “I had a really good time last night,” he adds.

  “I did too,” I answer honestly. “Dinner was incredible. Thanks for that.”

  “What is that?” I hear Emmie’s voice behind me.

  “Can you believe this thing?” I say, turning around and showing off my new treasure. “Christian found it at the flea market in Austin. Oh! How much do I owe you?”

  “It’s on me,” he insists.

  “No, please, let me pay you for it,” I say firmly.

  “Paige, please, I wanted you to have it.” The sincerity is heavy in his tone.

  “You have to at least let me buy you dinner or something,” I offer, suddenly realizing that I pretty much just asked him out on a date.

  “Actually, I planned on going bowling later tonight, so how about you buy the first game,” he suggests.

  “It’s a deal,” I agree gladly, the arrangement much less threatening than dinner alone with him.

  “Bowling!” Emmie exclaims, “I want to go. Colin, hey, Colin—come here.”

  I giggle at the sheer panic on Christian’s face as his sister-in-law invites herself along on his private time with me.

  “What is it, hon?” Colin asks, entering the room, Olivia bouncing on his hip.

  “Do you think the Carters will babysit tonight?” Emmie inquires.

  “I don’t know. That’s awfully short notice,” Christian interjects.

  “I don’t know—probably, why?” Colin replies, ignoring his brother’s opinion.

  “We’re going bowling with Paige and Christian!” she exclaims, patting her beloved on the ass.