Free to Dream

by Tracey Jerald

  Caleb: I’m actually in the air on the plane.

  Cassidy: Are you trying to crash it? What the hell, Caleb?!?! Get off your phone!

  Caleb: Relax, Pixie. I have my messages forwarded to my iPad. I’m not breaking any laws.

  Cassidy: Oh. okay. Never tell Phil that. He’ll demand we all do that and I’ll never get any peace from him.

  Caleb: I promise I won’t tell, but it’s not like he can’t find it online.

  I must make a sound resembling laughter. Keene is still patient and waiting. Bastard will wait for hours. I continue to ignore him and look back at my iPad when I hear another ding.

  Cassidy: We try to keep him away from searching the web whenever possible. Can you imagine him with an open search engine? It’s better to be at his beck and call for some things. Better for all our mental health, that is.

  Now, I’m openly laughing. She’s a sharp-witted delight.

  Cassidy: So, what’s with the nickname?

  Caleb: ???

  Cassidy: I’m fairly detail oriented, Caleb. You’ve called me Pixie a few times. Know so many Cassidys you have to differentiate me somehow? I’m the shortest, so I get the nickname to remind you I’m the short one?

  I wait a few seconds for something to follow, but there’s nothing. No dots moving, indicating she’s still typing. Is she serious? She thinks she doesn’t stand out?

  Caleb: I hope you’re joking right now.

  Cassidy: About?

  Caleb: Not standing out.

  No dots moving. Holy shit. She has no idea how alluring she is with that hair, those curves and legs? And her eyes are mesmerizing. My frustration simmers and I begin to type furiously on my tablet, ignoring the intrigue from my seatmate across the table. And then I remember what I know from the file and I calm slightly. I backspace the infuriated remarks I had originally typed and replace them with:

  Caleb: No, Cassidy. It’s not because I can’t remember who you are, or your height.

  Cassidy: ?

  Caleb: Look up Tree of Four Seasons, Josephine Wall. I imagine if the fairy in the painting looked at me, her eyes would be yours.

  While I wait for Cassidy to search for the fairy artwork online, I look at Keene. “It’s more than just getting laid. She’s…different.”

  Keene checks at his watch. “You held out for 36 minutes. I’m impressed.”

  “Fuck you, brother. I wasn’t going to say anything at all, but I need to talk this one through.”

  He sits up a little straighter. “Why? Thinking of bringing her home to Ry?”

  “Ry’s already met her,” I inform him when I hear the ding.

  Cassidy: That’s a lot to take in before a first date, Caleb. But thank you.

  Cassidy: Being likened to something that stunning is quite possibly one of the nicest compliments I’ve ever received.

  Caleb: It’s a striking piece of art with a lot of layers. A lot like the woman I’m talking to.

  Needing to get this conversation back on lighter tones, I quickly type back to her.

  Caleb: So, is this the point of the conversation where I ask what you’re wearing? Or should I just ask for your address and drive over after my plane lands? ;)

  Cassidy: LOL. Pig!

  Caleb: You know, Pixie, you’re making what would be an otherwise dull flight interesting. :)

  “How did Ry meet her?” Keene asks.

  Halfheartedly focusing on him, a smirk still lingering on my face caused by my back and forth with Cassidy, I make a distracted sound.

  “How did Ryan meet her?” Keene enunciates each word deliberately. Clearly Keene doesn’t respect the concept of ignoring someone. “Were you out to dinner or something?”

  Distracted, I answer, “She’s the answer to his prayers. She’s his wedding planner.” I look at my iPad, but not before I hear Keene’s sharp intake of breath.

  Cassidy: What am I going to do with you?

  Caleb: Are you leaving that question to me? Because I have a few suggestions. But I really do need your address.

  I fail to mention I already have it from the files I have on her family.

  Cassidy: Scroll up a bit to farm animal reference…

  Cassidy: I want to ask how your trip was and why you were out of town. I mean, you know what I do, but I don’t know anything about you other than what’s reported in the society pages.

  At that moment, a hand reaches across my iPad, pushing it down. Before I can knock it away, Keene is leaning forward, in my face, with an incredulous and angry look on his. “Are you out of your fucking mind? Does she know you know everything about her going into this? She was a damn client of the company we bought, Caleb!”

  Earlier in the week, I explained what happened when I pulled the background investigation on Ryan’s wedding planners, Charlie coming to my office, and what I found out about my family. Because Keene has known me since I was a kid, he immediately understood how enraged I was, and how he’s no longer the only one with a broken home.

  Keene and I have a long background together. We went to school together from Kindergarten all the way through Harvard. We were together when Keene’s sister was kidnapped when she was four years old. I helped him grieve through that loss and try to live a life after. I was there when his mother died, and his father checked out. Hell, I think we lost our virginity the same weekend at our senior prom.

  We joined the Army together after Harvard. We’ve shed blood for each other, and shored each other up through the worst of times. And now he owns part of Hudson with me. Aside from Ry, there’s no one in the world whose input I value, even if it often differs from my own.

  Keene always proved to be an incredible asset; he sees things in black and white. In business, that’s invaluable. He’s able to cut through the crap to get to the most important issues.

  The Freemans are clients or they’re not. It wouldn’t matter to him if they were clients of the former owners. And until Sunday, I never knew one of my own employees was still keeping tabs on them out of a sense of duty.

  “I didn’t own the firm when she was a paying client, Keene,” I reply coldly. “And let me remind you, the family isn’t an active account.” I had already worked through his possible argument in my head about a hundred times before I showed up at her office.

  “What you don’t understand,” my voice just slightly warmer than the Arctic, “is that her brother, Phillip, and her brother-in-law, Jason, do know what I do. They know we ran a background check on the company. As long as I’m honest with Cassidy about all of that and leave the choices up to her, they have no fucking problem with it.”

  “Well, that’s just great. When do you plan on getting around to that? After you’re done fucking someone who has been abused? We’ve seen how that shit plays out. You want to be another scar on her, keep this up. Just remember, they asked for someone who is now us to dig into their pasts to ensure no one could find out the things most people would consider debasing and degrading, Caleb. How do you think she’s going to survive after you tell her what you know?”

  Without thinking, I jump up and grab Keene by the throat. My iPad clatters to the floor unnoticed. “Do you think I give a fuck about what was done to her, you bastard?” I growl this into his face, which shows no expression. Asshole. “She’s beautiful, brilliant, and strong. And by the end of the first meeting, she’ll have you on your damn knees. So, fuck you and your assumptions about who and what she is based on a goddamned file of information you haven’t even read. You and your black and white.” I let him drop back into his seat and snatch up my iPad.

  “I’ll fucking figure it out myself.” I hear the ping of my iPad

  Cassidy: Is the topic of your job off-limits for now?

  Cassidy: Is it because I won’t answer the question about what I’m wearing?

  I hope she’s joking here. I scroll quickly past.

  Cassidy: Seriously?

  Cassidy: ???

  I take a deep breath and begin to type. Her dots move at t
he same time.

  Caleb: I’m sorry, Pixie. I was talking to my business partner. He’s on board too.

  Cassidy: Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize.

  Caleb: You have nothing to apologize for. The work conversation just got a bit intense.

  If that isn’t the understatement of the century.

  Caleb: Right now, my firm is contracted to do some work for the government, so I can’t talk about it much.

  Truthfully, that’s all I can tell her about the specific job I’m working on. In reality, that’s all I’ll tell her about what I do. At least until I can figure out if I need to open her barely scabbed-over wounds.

  Ping.

  Cassidy: Sounds like fun. Not. Just hope it doesn’t involve you raising our taxes.

  I shake my head, thinking of the massive fees we charge. Probably not a good idea to mention that.

  I hear the captain announce, “Mr. Lockwood, Mr. Marshall, we are approaching Teterboro. It is time to prepare for our descent. Please stow all electronic devices. Your steward will be in the cabin to collect your drinks shortly.”

  Caleb: I have to shut it down, Pixie. We’re landing.

  Cassidy: See you tomorrow.

  Putting my iPad away, I warn Keene, “You will treat her with the utmost respect tomorrow night, you ass.”

  By the tone of his voice, he assumes I’ve lost my mind. “You’re bringing her to Mandy’s party? Jesus, Caleb. Half the people there will report back to your—” I silence him with a glare. The only way he can make this conversation worse is to call that woman my mother. “You have to tell Cassidy sooner rather than later. Otherwise, you’re setting yourself up for massive failure from the beginning.”

  I laugh at him. He seriously thinks to offer me relationship advice? To dictate how I tell the woman I’m more than a little captivated by that I know more about her life than maybe even her siblings do? Jesus, he’s an arrogant motherfucker. It’s moments like this I wonder how I’ve managed not to kill him over the years.

  “Thank you, Dr. Marshall. Where should I send the bill for that bit of enlightenment?”

  “I’m not kidding, Caleb.” He leans forward. “As your partner, as Hudson’s counsel, as your friend, you know I’m right.”

  I turn my head to the side and stare out at the land rushing up to meet us.

  I hate when he’s right.

  “Let me handle this as I see fit. I don’t want to spook her off the bat. What good does it do to mention all of this on the first date if nothing comes from it?” I say through gritted teeth. “Fair enough, buddy?”

  “Oh, just fucking thrilled, buddy.” He sits back, glaring at me.

  As the plane touches down, we end the flight locked in a deadly stare down, neither of us giving an inch. Both of us pissed and worried.

  As we make our way back into the city in silence, I can’t help but wonder if I’m turning my back on fair advice.

  But how do you tell someone you know everything about them and earn their trust?

  12

  Cassidy

  It’s Friday. More accurately, it’s Friday evening.

  Caleb should be arriving soon.

  I’ll admit it, I’m a nervous wreck.

  It’s the first date I’ve ever agreed to according to my sisters, which isn’t to say I haven’t needed an escort on occasion. I normally took Phil before he married Jason. This is probably why I was goaded into a session of pre-date prep last night at the carriage house.

  Seriously, did I need to have tweezers pluck hair there? On a first date? Ali must put out more often than that hot lawyer in the hotel room we shared the weekend Phil and Jason got married. For the love of God, that shit hurt!

  Then came the clothes. Sweet Jesus, I swear I spent more time putting outfits back in their proper place after they left my house. I love my sisters, I truly do, but they’re tornadoes in my calm space. But they do have an incredible sense of style.

  It’s how I ended up wearing a pair of tight-fitting, dark wash crop jeans, a black, long sleeve bell sleeve crepe shirt with lace inserts, and sky-high raspberry Louboutin’s I got for an absolute steal online. I mean, who of the shoe obsessed wouldn’t buy Christian Louboutin’s for $148.00 from the man himself? I keep checking my credit card bill for an extra zero to appear at the end of the charge. My equally shoe obsessed sisters oohed and aahed appropriately. Lucky me, they’re all so much taller than I am, they can’t borrow my shoes. What they don’t know is that I bought them each a pair for Christmas.

  Mentally, I’ve barely permitted myself two minutes to think alone. I got up super early this morning and went to go see Matt. Sitting by myself in The Coffee Shop, Matt asked me a lot of the same questions Em did when I was in her office. He just dug deeper into some of the answers. Like, does the idea of being alone with Caleb trigger any sort of negative anxiety for me. I was surprised to realize I’d already been alone with him in my office. Matt, surprised by my answer, was even more taken aback when I told him the door was closed while Caleb and I were arguing.

  Matt probed into my physical concerns. This has been a sensitive topic when I’ve thought about dating in the past. I was pleased to be able to talk about some of the sensations I was already experiencing, such as the anticipation of hearing Caleb’s voice, the shivering warmth from his touch, knowing from my body’s responses to his physical presence that my sexuality hadn’t been mutilated before it should have been born, it was just dormant for the last twenty years.

  I was pleased to be able to tell Matt that no, I wasn’t afraid of Caleb physically with the caveat about coming up behind me when I’m unaware or sharp movements, like when he went to touch my face. I don’t think I’ll ever truly get past those reactions, even if they temper over time.

  Matt and I talked for a long time about sex and that I shouldn’t feel embarrassed about asking people I trusted about it. He said everyone who has been through a sexual trauma is different and only I will know what’s right for my heart, mind, and body. He said that when I chose to make love with a man, it would be the most beautiful experience in the world.

  I feel as if I’ve done all the preparation I can.

  Even if this date turns out to be a complete bust, I thoroughly enjoyed most of the first date rituals my sisters took me through last night and earlier today—face masks, making sure I was wearing lip color that was the exact shade of my heels, shared giggling over the hot guy I was going out with. Because let’s be honest, Caleb Lockwood is hot as hell.

  I’ve been around my fair share of attractive men over the years. I’ll even admit to being hit on by more than a few. Not even one tempted me to ever accept a date or anything else they may have directly or indirectly alluded to. Yet, with Caleb Lockwood, there’s just something there. I remember the slice of disappointment I felt when I’d initially thought he was one of the grooms in the wedding.

  If I ever thought of fantasizing about a man, I still don’t think I would have imagined his muscled body, strong jaw, his dark, thick hair begging for a hand to run through it…

  Jesus, who am I right now? I don’t do daydreaming, at least not over a man. Especially one who should have me running for the hills. I dream of serenity. I dream of peace. I dream of laughter. I dream of family. I don’t dream of hot guys who send tingles through my body when they touch my hand. I shiver in remembrance before I mentally chastise myself.

  Get it under control, I warn myself. I still have the rest of this event to get through. And, he may be a good guy, but I don’t know much about him.

  I regroup by scanning the chaos of the Collyer Dress Extravaganza.

  The dress extravaganza started out as a small way to help three girls, and it wasn’t too long after we had opened the doors of Amaryllis Events. We helped them find a way to make extra money to buy their homecoming dresses. Over the years, it has morphed into us bringing in actual dresses by high-end designers. Amaryllis Events picks up the initial tab and those not purchased are donated to other local hi
gh schools. Tonight’s event, the one I forgot when I made my date with Caleb, is dress selection night for Collyer’s senior girls.

  Over the cacophony of screeches and excited glee, there are gaggles of girls trying on homecoming dresses in the farm’s main room. I lean against the wall in the back by the glass doors overlooking the lake, catching Phil’s attention. He makes his way over to me and slips his arm around my waist.

  “Great job.” His eyes scan the room. “The girls are finding what they want.”

  “You can thank Em for that. I don’t know how she manages to get the designers to give us the samples at cost each year. Dear God! Except that one. They probably gave us that one for free!” My eyes widen enormously at a sequined orange number with what appears to be a feather skirt. I elbow Phil, who quietly chokes on the inhale of his next breath. We glance at each other and quickly look away. We’re breathing in hard to hold in the laughter.

  A few minutes pass before we’re again composed. Phil picks up our conversation as if the Baltimore Oriole mascot hadn’t just come to life in our family room.

  “I agree, Em does a lot, Cass, but you still run the program on top of everything else. It teaches these kids there are important things out there they can help with.”

  I smile. It always feels good to give back to the community we call home.

  “Thanks. I love the first night of this. I can’t believe I almost forgot it.”

  Phil turns me slightly. “Yeah. So, I heard about your date. By the way, you look great.” His face shows his hurt briefly.

  Shit. Phil may have been a clueless dick about the way he handled the whole Lockwood-Dalton wedding, and we’ve had our issues being the two most stubborn of our family, but he loves me.

  I know down to my soul how much he loves me.

  I reach up and touch his cheek. “I’m sorry, Phil. I never meant to not tell you. I assumed you’d heard, and then the girls were rushing me in all manners of things I will never tell you about. I guess a part of me was just trying to wrap my mind around the idea that I said yes.”