Wishful Thinking

by Evangeline Anderson

  “What the hell are you on tonight? I think you need to lay off the wine.” He sounded bewildered.

  “I’m not on anything. But there are some things I’d like to discuss. Just a few minor details like our wedding and when I get to go back to school. You never seem to have time when we’re alone, so I’m discussing them now. Here. On my birthday, which you forgot. Again.” She looked down at her arm again. “I’m going to have a bruise there tomorrow if you don’t stop.”

  Christian loosened his grip and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, babe…” He looked suddenly defeated. “I admit it—I forgot your birthday. And damn it, I am so sorry. I just got…I got so caught up in my new job and in trying to land the Vances as a client that I let myself get carried away.”

  Phil rubbed her upper arm. But she felt something inside her begin to melt a little. This was the Christian she had fallen in love with in the first place. The sweet, stammering man who declared his love for her on their second date. The man who had once climbed into a bull’s pasture to gather wildflowers for her. (He had barely escaped the charging bull with only a hole in his pants to show for the adventure.) The man she’d been living and planning and hoping with for the last five years. Could it be that the man she loved had simply been buried under the stress of a new job and the need to excel in his chosen profession?

  “Christian,” she said at last, while he looked at her hopefully. “I just need you to know that your forgetting my birthday again hurt me. A lot.”

  “I understand that. I do.” He nodded, a look of sincerity stamped on his handsome features.

  “And there are some things I really need to talk to you about. I feel like you keep ducking me. I want to talk about the wedding. And I want to talk about when I can go back to school. My job is a nightmare and if it wasn’t for…well, anyway, it’s really bad. I supported you all the way through law school and I feel like right now, I could use some support too.”

  “Philly-babe,” Christian put an arm around her shoulders. “You’ll get all the support you need—I promise. But for right now, can we please just go back to the table before I blow it? It’s not gonna be good for either one of us if I end up in the unemployment line tomorrow. You know?”

  “All right.” Phil nodded reluctantly. “But I want to talk about the issues we’ve been avoiding. And I want to talk about them soon.”

  “Let’s make a date for a breakfast meeting tomorrow morning.” Christian smiled at her. “We’ll talk over coffee. How’s that?”

  “That’s fine. That’ll be just fine.” For the first time in their relationship, Phil felt like she had gotten, if not the upper hand, at least an equal footing with her fiancé. It was a very satisfying feeling.

  “Okay then. Let’s go back and let the Vances know we’re not crazy people.” He gave her the same brilliantly white smile that had dazzled her in the first place. “And maybe there will be a little birthday surprise sometime tonight after all. What do you say?”

  “I say that sounds great.” Phil gave him an impulsive kiss on the cheek, then wiped off the smudge of neutral lipstick she’d left behind.

  “That’s my girl. C’mon, babe. Let’s knock ‘em dead.” He led her back to the table where the Vances were looking at them a little uneasily. Phil dropped all talk of her birthday and Christian was so charming that the whole table was soon laughing and having a wonderful time again, all the earlier awkwardness forgotten. At one point, Christian excused himself and she saw him talking to the head waiter, who nodded stiffly while money exchanged hands. She and Minnie Vance exchanged a girlish, knowing look and the older woman whispered to her, “Have to train them right, don’t we my dear?” Phil just winked and smiled back, reveling in the feeling of being the center of attention.

  Cass had been right, Phil thought as, at the end of the meal, a waiter appeared with a covered silver tray. This speaking her mind thing had been the best thing that she possibly could have wished for. Why she hadn’t wished for it years ago was beyond her.

  “For the birthday girl,” Christian called loudly as the waiter bent at the waist to present her with the tray. But all her good feelings disappeared when the waiter raised the lid and showed what was beneath. A large, gooey éclair was sitting in the middle of the tray with a small, tasteful white candle stuck into its chocolaty top.

  “Oh…” Phil felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. For a moment she was sure she was going to be sick.

  “I ordered it especially for you,” Christian said proudly, oblivious to her nausea. “It’s her favorite,” he told the Vances, nodding at the tray. “She has to have one every day. You oughta see the way she goes through them.”

  “My goodness.” Minnie Vance smiled at her enviously. “And you so nice and slender, Philomena. I’m sure I just don’t know where you put them.”

  The nausea had eased its hold on her stomach and Phil wanted to say something polite. But when she opened her mouth, what came out was, “In the trash, mostly.”

  “Ha—she’s such a kidder.” Christian was giving her a warning look. “She loves éclairs, don’t you, babe? Go ahead—dig in.”

  Once again Phil wanted to say something to save face. She liked the Vances now, especially Minnie, and she had no wish to embarrass herself or Christian in front of them. But once more when she opened her mouth, the little white lie wouldn’t come out.

  “I hate éclairs,” she heard herself saying. “I’ve hated them for years. And if you really knew me, Christian, you’d know that.”

  Her mouth wanted to say more, but Phil didn’t dare let it. Instead, she got up and ran to the women’s room to hide.

  Once safely inside, she splashed cool water on her face, heedless of the fact that her makeup was coming off and her natural deep red lip color could be seen. She stared in the mirror at the girl with eyes so blue they were almost black and wondered what the hell was happening to her. Why couldn’t she lie when she needed to? Speaking her mind was one thing but this…

  Phil blotted her face with paper towels from the dispenser. She had a bad feeling about what had just happened but she tried to push it down. Maybe it was the wine talking. After all, she hardly ever drank more than a glass or two and tonight she’d had over half a bottle. That had to be it. She’d gotten a little tipsy and the effects of her new wish were still settling in. Fairy magic and alcohol didn’t mix. Surely tomorrow when the wine wore off she’d have better control of herself. Probably she’d have a terrible hangover too, but that was all right. As long as things went back to normal, she wouldn’t mind having the worst head ache in the world.

  It was another half hour before Christian came to get her, after seeing the Vances out to their car. She could tell by the stony look in his eyes that he was not happy but thankfully he didn’t ask her any direct questions and she was able to keep her silence.

  It was a long, cold ride home, with Phil trying to apologize but no words coming out. And by the time they got to the apartment, Phil no longer even wanted to apologize. Maybe her sisters and Josh were right. Maybe it was time she and Christian took a break from each other. The idea of being out on her own again after five long years was scary, but Phil was beginning to think that it wasn’t half as scary as the idea of living the rest of her life with a man who didn’t really know her.

  “Phil…” Her fiancé broke into her thoughts just as they stepped into the dark, silent apartment. “I don’t know what the hell all that was about. But—“

  “Christian, I think we ought to take a break,” Phil said, even though she would have liked to have a little more time to think about things first. “I feel like you don’t really know me. And how can you love somebody you don’t know? Maybe…maybe I should just pack some things and move back to my nana’s.”

  “What?” Christian’s look went from angry to shocked. “All this because I ordered you an éclair? Come on, Phil—you had too much wine and you’re talking crazy.”

  “No, I’m not.” Phil sat on t
he pale blue couch they’d gotten secondhand when they first moved in together and reached up to turn on the lamp they’d found at a garage sale. “I think I’m talking perfect sense for the first time in years. I don’t think you care, anymore, Christian. And why should I stay with someone who doesn’t care about me?”

  “But Philly-babe, you’re wrong. I do care.” Christian sat on the couch beside her and took her hand in both of his. His palms were slightly clammy with sweat. She resisted the urge to draw her hand away because he looked so upset.

  “I…I just don’t know if I can believe that anymore,” she told him. “Honestly, Christian, you don’t seem to know anything about me. Or if you do know, you conveniently forget it.”

  “Okay, okay.” He held up his hands in a ‘don’t shoot’ gesture. “I know I forgot your birthday. And then I ordered something you hate for dessert without knowing it. But, Phil, that’s no reason to break up. You’re tired and upset right now.” He put an arm around her and pulled her to him. “I want you to do me a favor, okay?”

  “That depends on what it is,” Phil said tersely.

  “I want you to sleep on all this, and before you go to bed tonight, I want you to remember all the good times we’ve had together. Remember our first apartment? How the AC was always breaking so we’d have to take cold showers and go to bed soaking wet or we couldn’t sleep? Or how about our second Christmas together when we were so poor we went down to the Dollar store and bought each other five presents because ten dollars was all we could spare?”

  “And you got me that little glass bunny and the tail broke off. But then you glued it back on again—upside down.” Phil smiled despite herself.

  “And you got me that god-awful designer imposters cologne that smelled like skunk spray.” Christian grinned at her. “Hard times but good times too, babe. Do you want to throw all that away just because things have been a little rough lately?”

  “Well…” Phil wanted to hold on to her anger, but she could feel it slipping away. Maybe Christian was right. Maybe she was overreacting.

  “Of course you don’t,” Christian said, interpreting her silence. “Now come on, let’s go to bed and sleep on this and we’ll have that conference in the morning over coffee, just like I promised you. Okay?”

  Phil sighed. “Well, okay.” Maybe thing would look different in the morning.

  Chapter Nine

  The beeping of her alarm clock woke her as usual and Phil wondered if the previous night had been a bad dream. Speaking her mind, sending back her steak, telling Christian that she hated éclairs in front of his new clients and then trying to break up with him—none of those things was remotely like her. Wish or no wish, it must have been all the wine she’d consumed. She did have a slight headache, too—proof that her limit was closer to one glass of wine than an entire bottle.

  She tiptoed to the kitchen and started the coffee. Hopefully Christian would wake up in a better mood if she had everything laid out for him just the way he liked it. After all, he had promised to have a breakfast meeting with her about the issues he’d been avoiding. But she’d give him time to have coffee and read the paper first—the paper!

  Phil ran to the apartment’s front door and reached for the paper—just as Mrs. Tessenbacker was reaching for it, too. They came up at the same time, both of them holding one end of the morning news.

  “Oh, good morning, Philomena.” Mrs. Tessenbacker gave her a crocodile smile but didn’t let go of the paper. Around her ankles, Doodle-bug yipped crazily.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Tessenbacker,” Phil said evenly. “I believe this is my paper.” She took a firmer grip on the contested item.

  “Well, yes, dear. But is just so happens that Doodle-bug is short on potty paper this morning. And I just thought—”

  “You just thought you’d come across the hall and steal my paper like you always do?”

  “Honestly, I was only going to borrow it. You never seemed to mind so—”

  “Well, I do mind.” Phil glared at the older lady. “This is my paper and I pay for it. I do not pay to have you steal it for your nasty little dog to pee on.”

  “Well!” Mrs. Tessenbacker drew herself up and let go of the paper. “I have never in all my days…”

  Phil felt a thrill of victory. Now would have been the perfect time to simply say, “Goodbye, Mrs. Tessenbacker,” and go back inside her apartment. She had won the battle and she would be willing to bet that her elderly neighbor would never steal her paper again. But she had a lot more on her mind—and to her horror, it began to come out of her mouth.

  “Your dog stinks.” She looked down at Doodle-bug, who was growling at her, his brown and gray hackles raised and his tiny yellow teeth bared.

  “Excuse me?” Mrs. Tessenbacker’s eyes widened further.

  “That’s right—I can smell him all up and down this hallway,” Phil’s mouth continued, voicing thoughts she’d had many times but never expected to put into words. “And you’re cheap,” she continued. “I see you walking your mangy mutt up and down the street on a diamond studded collar but you can’t even buy your own paper.”

  “I…I…” For once Mrs. Tessenbacker seemed to be at a loss for words. Doodle-bug wasn’t, however. He trotted over to Phil and started to hike his leg. Phil took a quick step back.

  “The next time your dog pees on my foot I’m going to put it up his ass,” she heard herself saying. “If you can’t train your animal better than that you don’t deserve to have one.”

  “Oh!” Mrs. Tessenbacker reached down with surprising speed for someone her age and snatched the bundle of fur into her arms. “Come on, Doodle-bug. Let’s get away from her!” She retreated into her apartment and slammed the door, leaving Phil to sag against the wall, the morning paper forgotten in her hand.

  Maybe it hadn’t just been the wine, after all.

  Chapter Ten

  Phil waited in silence as Christian scanned the morning news, this time sans dog pee, and sipped his hot black coffee. So far she hadn’t felt compelled to say anything to him but then, he hadn’t said anything to her either. Also, she was standing at the far end of the kitchen, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed over her chest. She wasn’t sure, but she thought maybe the compulsion to speak her mind was stronger when she was close to someone.

  At last Christian looked up from his coffee. “How’s your head this morning?”

  “It aches a little,” Phil said cautiously.

  He nodded, as though he’d expected nothing less. “All that wine you drank last night, I’m not surprised. From now on I think we better limit you to one glass. Or maybe you should just stick to water.”

  He was only saying exactly what she’d been thinking earlier, but Phil still felt herself bristling at his condescending tone.

  “Oh, so I guess you think I made a fool of myself last night.” She uncrossed her arms and stepped towards him.

  Christian gave a short bark of a laugh. “You could say that. Getting so upset over a stupid pastry you wanted to end our relationship. I’ve never seen you act that way before, Phil. What the hell got into you? Besides an entire bottle of wine, I mean.”

  “I…I can’t exactly tell you.” Phil frowned, unable as always to talk about her fairy godmother. The wish didn’t apply to everything on her mind, it seemed—the magic was still protecting itself from non-fae outsiders. “But I do know that whatever got into me is here to stay, Christian. I’m sorry about last night but I still want to talk about the issues you promised me we’d discuss.”

  “I’m surprised you remembered after all your crazy talk.” He put down his coffee mug with a thunk.

  Phil clenched her fists. “You were just putting me off, weren’t you? Reminding me of our ‘good times’. Saying whatever you thought I wanted to hear and assuming I’d forget all about it in the morning.”

  “C’mon, babe, be fair.” Christian looked uncomfortable. “You know that’s not true. You wanna talk about the wedding? Fine, we’ll t
alk about it.”

  “Yes, I do want to talk about it.” Phil tried to keep her voice even. “Last night you kept me from leaving by reminding me of everything we’ve shared in the past. But now I want to talk about our future.”

  “The wedding.” Christian shook his head. “I wanted to save more money and do it right. But if you want to get married so badly then fine—we’ll go to a justice of the peace today if that’ll make you happy.”

  “But will it make you happy?” She slid into the seat across from him, looking earnestly into his face. “It doesn’t sound like it would. We used to talk about the day we could afford a nice wedding—used to wish for it and dream for it. But you haven’t mentioned it in months—not since you got this new job.”

  Christian didn’t meet her eyes. “Well, damn it, babe—the job is demanding. I’ve got my boss on my back all the time and I’m trying to make a name for myself and land new clients. Like the Vances.” He shot her an accusing glare before looking back into his coffee cup. “In fact, I have an important meeting this morning I’m gonna be late for if I don’t hurry.”

  Phil frowned as he started to get up. “Wait a minute—I know for a fact your office doesn’t open until nine and you promised me we’d talk about this.”

  “Oh yeah? Well you promised me that you wouldn’t act the fool again in front of the Vances last night,” he shot back.

  Phil felt hot tears filling her eyes but she blinked them back. “Christian, lately I feel undervalued by you. In fact, I think I’ve always felt that way.” The wish started to work its magic, and the words came in a rush. “I feel like you always come first in this relationship, like you don’t give a damn any more about my needs and feelings.”

  Christian ran both hands through his hair. “I don’t have time for this!” he growled. “You want to get married—I told you we would, any damn time you want. What else do you want from me?”