Only In Dreams (Stubborn Love Series)

by Owens, Wendy

  The evening air is actually quite cool, and I decide to go with jeans, riding boots, a long sleeve, form-fitting black t-shirt, and oversized gray cardigan for my date with Christian. I consider canceling, but then decide it’s only fair for me to share my intentions of following through on my marriage to Henry, in person. It seems like the least I can do, seeing as I agreed to this craziness in the first place.

  “Paige, Christian’s here,” I hear Emmie’s voice carry up the staircase. I click the top button on my phone and glance down for the time. Eight o’clock on the nose. Apparently, punctuality is also something new and improved about Christian Bennett.

  I stare at my reflection for a moment longer, then with a deep breath, I turn and make my way out of the room and down into the kitchen, where Emmie, Colin, Olivia, and Christian are all standing. Everyone stops and stares at me. I suddenly feel very self-conscious.

  “You look incredible,” Christian says, smiling. I notice he’s wearing blue jeans and a button-up plaid shirt. I sigh a breath of relief to know I’m not underdressed for the evening’s plans.

  “Thanks, shall we go?” I ask immediately. I want this date to get started, so I can let Christian down gently, and then finally be able to move on with my life.

  “Oh— sure,” he says, a little surprised by my forwardness.

  “You kids have fun,” Colin says is his best elderly voice, waving to us as we walk out the door. From the corner of my eye, I see Emmie give her husband a swift elbow to his ribs. They really are cute—almost annoyingly so.

  “Everything okay?” Christian asks as we approach his truck. He opens the passenger door, awaiting my answer.

  “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Seemed like you wanted a quick exit back there. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “I don’t know, I guess I’m just eager to get this show on the road,” I reply, climbing into the truck.

  “Missed me that much, huh?” he says and then closes the door before I have a chance to reply.

  He walks around and climbs into the driver’s side. I decide to attempt small talk. “So how was your trip?”

  He smiles. “Really good, but I missed you like crazy.”

  At his admission, I can feel the butterflies start in the pit of my stomach. Focus Paige, you’re going back to New York, and you’re going to marry Henry.

  “Wow, nothing, huh?” Christian jokes, apparently surprised his comment doesn’t elicit more of a reaction. Knowing it will only encourage his persistence if he has any indication I might be struggling with our current circumstances, I don’t take the bait.

  “Did you get what you wanted out of the trip?” I continue.

  Christian looks at me, examining my face, but I simply stare straight ahead, watching the yellow road lines coming at us, one two-foot dash at a time.

  “Something seems off, are you sure everything is okay?” he asks me again.

  I laugh, trying to convince him that he is being silly for even asking. “Of course. I just wanted to know if you got what you wanted out of your trip.”

  Christian furrows his brow, and then his expression shifts into one of acceptance. “Actually, I think the guy’s going to be able to help me out.”

  “Oh really?” I prod, hoping to talk about anything except the hope he has of a possible relationship resuming between us.

  “Yeah.” There’s excitement in his voice as he talks to me. “He was really impressed with the work I did for him, and he said he’d like to come and take a look at my project after New Year’s and see if he can help out.”

  “What project?” I ask, realizing nobody has given me details about this big important thing Christian is working on.

  “You’ll soon find out,” he taunts.

  “What? Where are we going?” I inquire. I’d assumed we would be grabbing a bite to eat at Roadhouse, but it just registers that he didn’t take the turn he needed to a half-mile back. We’re going somewhere else, but where I don’t know.

  “It’s a surprise.”

  I’m starting to get frustrated. I planned on a quick dinner, letting him down gently, and being in bed early tonight. “No, please, no surprises tonight. I’m exhausted. I worked all day long, and I thought we were just going on a simple date.”

  Christian doesn’t look at me—just stares straight ahead. We begin to slow, our headlights pulling to the left-hand side of the road. At last, they shine onto a gravel drive, and Christian breaks his silence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you’d be so tired. This is our last date, and since there’s a good chance you’ll be going back to New York for good, I wanted it to be special.”

  Did he just say what I think he said? Perhaps Christian is starting to come to his senses. Maybe he realizes there’s no chance I’m ever going to leave Henry for him.

  “I don’t understand, where are we going?” I ask.

  He seems nervous. I have no idea where he could possibly be taking me. I look out the right window; the landscape is shifting, the trees increasing in density all around us.

  “I thought it might be nice to have a picnic,” he says.

  “At night?” I ask, staring at him, and then looking around again. “In the forest?”

  “Eh— not exactly,” he begins. “Well, at night, and technically in a forest, but I like to think of it as a castle in a forest.”

  “Christian!“ I blurt out, frustrated by the lack of a straight answer. “What cast—” But before I can finish my thought, he rounds a corner, and a building comes into focus. At least what looks like it can be a building, eventually—a large portion still appears to be a shell.

  When the headlights reposition to the front of the structure, I see plenty of construction gear come into focus, stones stacked to the left, and pallets of wood that are covered with tarps to the right.

  “Welcome to my home sweet home,” he says. I sit there, speechless and confused. “Or at least it will be, if I can ever finish the damn place.”

  “Wait, what?” I gasp. “You’re building this?”

  “Every piece from scratch,” he boasts proudly.

  I look back and stare at the structure. To the left are windows that reach from floor to ceiling, and extend all the way down the wall, leading to two oversized wooden doors. It’s obvious the doors have some sort of pattern carved into them, but I’m too far away to make it out.

  “I can’t believe this.”

  “Well, I guess I can’t say just me. Colin helps whenever he has spare time, and deals like the one I was trying to make in Dallas will help a lot,” he continues.

  “What deal?” I ask, not waiting for him, but opening the passenger door, stepping out onto the drive, taking in the insane amount of detail around me.

  “I need massive steel beams brought in, and one set into that giant oak tree back there for support.”

  I squint, trying to see what he is talking about, the dark shielding my vision somewhat. Then it becomes clear. “Is the house built around that tree?”

  “Yeah it is, pretty cool, right,” Christian says, barely able to contain his excitement. “But when we started working on the roof we discovered some logistics about the tree expanding. So I need to build an atrium around the tree in order to allow room for the trunk to expand through the years. I had to have a structural engineer come out, and it set the project way back. Everything seems to be getting back on track though.”

  “This place is incredible.” I remark, walking up the flagstone steps.

  “I thought you’d like it.”

  “I can’t believe you never told me about it. I’ve been here for two months,” I mutter, reaching down and touching the stone steps as I walk by.

  “I was nervous.”

  “What on Earth would you have to be nervous about?”

  “I was afraid you wouldn’t like it. It’s important to me that you do.” There’s so much about his statement that frightens me. I decide to change the subject.

  Climbing up to
the front door, I stop and turn to look at him. He’s staring at me with a huge grin across his face. I feel my cheeks flush hot. “It’s so big. Won’t you get lonely all by yourself?”

  “I didn’t build it for myself,” he answers, moving past me, and turning the knob to the large wooden door before pushing it open. As I take a step forward, the timer on the headlights clicks off, and I lose my footing in the darkness. Reaching out, I grab Christian’s arm and steady myself.

  “Then who did you build it for?” I inquire. “An investment?”

  He shakes his head, “I guess, in a way. One day, I hope to raise my family here.” The idea of him creating a family with another woman makes my chest ache, though I know a family is something he wants. “Here, hold onto the wall, and let me get the lights.”

  Reaching out a hand and placing an open palm on the cool wall, I stand, waiting for the room to be illuminated.

  “I wish I could see this place in the daylight,” I comment.

  Christian doesn’t say a word; I can hear him fiddling with something in the corner. And in a second, the room comes to life before my eyes. A warm yellow strand of bulbs is strung back and forth throughout the room, across the large wooden rafters over our heads. A second later I hear Weezer start playing from a speaker in the corner. Instinctively, my hand shifts to my wrist, and I run my fingers over the tattoo of lyrics. He sees me.

  “Does it bother him you have that?” he asks.

  “He just thinks it’s an inspirational tattoo, but he doesn’t know the story behind it,” I explain.

  “Why didn’t you tell him?” Christian asks me pointedly.

  “I didn’t want him to hate something on my body. If he knew the story behind the tattoos, it would change the way he saw it.”

  “It doesn’t seem right to lie to the one you love.” I’m annoyed by the judgment in his statement.

  “I’m not lying,” I argue. “The story isn’t relevant to my life anymore, so I don’t really see any reason to share it.” I can see my statement hurts him, and I wonder if I was too harsh.

  “I don’t know, still seems like a lie,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.

  I decide I’m not going to get drawn into a conversation about my relationship with Henry. Our dysfunction was none of Christian’s business. “What is this?” I ask, my stare shifting to a blanket spread across the floor, a basket off to one side.

  “I told you I made us a picnic,” he replies, walking over to where I still cling to the wall. Taking my hand, he leads me to the blanket, our flesh touching causing butterflies to erupt in my stomach.

  “Are you serious?” I question, and I begin to laugh, trying my best to ignore my body’s response to him.

  “All right, I’m not sure if laughing is good or bad …” he responds, examining my expression. “Should I be insulted?”

  “No!” I gasp. “Oh God—no, this is crazy. I mean crazy good. I can’t believe you went to so much trouble, I’m blown away.”

  “Good, my plan is working then,” he chimes before rubbing his hands together in a devilish way.

  Flopping down onto the blanket, I prop up on my knees and reach for the basket, welcoming any distraction from his adorableness. Grabbing the wicker box and pulling it close, I glance at him as he sits and ask, “May I?”

  “Please do,” he replies, waving at me to continue.

  Tossing back the lid and digging into the dark cavern, I begin pulling out the hidden treats. Christian narrates the reveal as I go. First there’s a tray of various cheeses. I recognize the Brie, and I can smell smoked Gouda, but the others are a mystery. Reaching back in, I find crackers with a choice of fig jam or apple butter.

  The next item I pull out confuses me. It appears to be a lighter of some kind. “Umm, what’s this?”

  He pushes up onto his knees, snatching the device out of my hand, then reaches into the basket and pulls out a container with two white ramekins in it. “It’s a torch for dessert.”

  “Did you make crème brûlée?” I gasp in disbelief.

  “Maybe,” he says slyly.

  “This is too much!” I exclaim, popping a cracker into my mouth.

  “Sparkling cider?” he offers, leaning to the side and coming back up with a bottle.

  “Yes, please,” I answer eagerly. I watch him pop the top and pour the grape cider into plastic cups. As he hands me one, I’m a little overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of the evening.

  Christian lifts his plastic cup into the air and says, “To new beginnings.”

  “To new beginnings,” I agree with a smile, and crash my cup into his, though I know his toast is intended in a different way than my own.

  He takes a gulp then lies on his side, propping up his head with an open palm, staring at me as I take a drink. I feel the need to shift the attention.

  “You at least have to get a dog.”

  “Oh, for sure, it wouldn’t be a home without a dog.”

  “So what kind of dog are you getting?”

  “What kind would you like us to have?” he asks, lifting his eyebrows as he peers up at me.

  “You don’t quit, do you?” I shove him gently, causing him to roll over onto his back, us both now snickering.

  He sits up, and looking intensely into my eyes says, “Not when it’s something I really want.”

  “Wow, way to make the mood all heavy,” I groan.

  “Sorry,” he mutters, turning and pulling back a corner of the blanket where he had a small box hidden. “Okay, let’s see if I can lighten the mood … gift time.”

  “What?” I question, completely perplexed by what’s happening.

  “Christmas is in a couple weeks, and you’re headed back to New York, so I wanted to make sure you got your gift from me.”

  “I didn’t get you anything,” I protest.

  “I have an idea of something you can give me,” he growls, leaning in close.

  “I bet you do,” I scoff.

  “That’s later, but right now, open,” he commands, placing the box on my lap. I run my hands across the top, glancing up at him and smiling in anticipation. I know I shouldn’t be excited, but I am. I know it’s probably unwise to even open it, but I can’t help myself.

  “Well, go on, open it,” he pushes me again.

  I lift the lid with my eyes closed, and set it to the side. Through squinted vision, I see a book. Opening my eyes, I allow the gift to come into focus. It’s a photo album. I have the urge to look at Christian, but I resist. I flip the large red leather cover and look at the first page. Staring back at me is an image of Colin, Christian, and me. I remember the day. It was the end of the summer, and Christian and I were getting ready to start back to high school. Colin took us on a white water rafting trip. It was one of the few vacations I had during my childhood.

  “Oh Christian,” I gasp.

  “You remember that trip? Colin and I had you convinced a bear was going to come in our camp if you didn’t pee all around your tent.”

  “Jesus! I forgot about that. You guys have always been dicks, haven’t you?” I laugh; he seems rather pleased with my reaction.

  I turn the page, each one holding a whole new set of memories. Our prom, concerts, parties, my first modeling job that he came and cheered me on at, graduation, all of the renovation projects I helped them on. Christian was spinning story after story, each one more passionate and detailed than the previous.

  I don’t speak as I look through the pages—I simply remember—and it’s like a warm blanket being wrapped around me. Before I know what’s happening, I feel a surge of tears fill my eyes, and they come spilling out and flooding down my cheeks. What the hell is this? I don’t cry—ever. At least the old Paige didn’t.

  At first it’s clear Christian doesn’t notice my silent crying. But then, it’s hard to miss when the drops fall onto the pages of the album.

  “Paige?” he questions, scrambling upright and moving in close. “What’s wrong?” I can’t answer him; I don’t kn
ow what to say. “Did I do something?”

  “No,” I reply through snotty sniffles. “You’re perfect.”

  “Then what’s wrong?” he pushes deeper.

  “I don’t know, nothing—” I start. “Everything.” Setting the photo album off to one side, I rub my legs briskly, the heatless structure starting to numb my extremities in the cool evening air.

  “Are you cold?” he asks, noticing my body language. I nod, pulling my knees up to my chest.

  He wastes no time, hopping to his feet, and crossing the oversized living room, he kneels down in front of the fireplace. “All right, I haven’t lit this up since we tested it, so sorry if it smells a little funky at first,” he warns me, then moments later I watch as the starter log lights up, its flames tickling the wooden hunks Christian placed on top of it.

  “Thank you,” I mutter.

  Moving to the speaker, he turns the music down, and flips off the light strands over our heads. The quiet and calmness of the dark, with just the orange glow of the fire, is actually quite nice. I take a deep breath, trying to figure out what exactly sent me into my frenzy.

  In a second, he’s back at my side, moving in close. He reaches out to put an arm around me, but then hesitates, and looks to me for my approval. I should say no, but I can’t. I want him to hold me right now, more than anything else in the world. And then he does. His large muscular arm wraps around me.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” Christian prods.

  I shrug my shoulders. I don’t want to talk. Pulling away slightly, I lay my head on his lap, and his fingertips graze my temple as he pulls my hair from my face and begins stroking my head. I moan, and then close my eyes.

  OPENING MY EYES, I realize morning is here. I feel a body pressed up against me and quickly realize it’s Christian. We must have fallen asleep here last night. His arm is draped across my waist. My back is killing me after sleeping on the floor all night, but I don’t move. If I move, I know he’ll wake up. If he wakes up, he’ll move, too, and then this moment will be over forever.