Shadows and Dreams (Dream Series Book 2)

by Braxton Hicks

  Trey and I had made love over and over again last night. I'd put my diaphragm in after our first session. That might serve to prove it was too little, too late. Time would tell.

  “I’ve got it, baby,” he said, getting out of bed and pulling his boxers on. "You go back to sleep. I’ll take care of her this morning.”

  “Thank you honey,” I said.

  I burrowed back down into the soft pillows, pulling the duvet up under my chin and fell back to sleep. When I awoke again, it was nearly eleven. I felt rested and energized; glad that my husband and I had re-connected emotionally and physically. I showered and dressed for the day in jeans and a sweater. I pulled on my UGG boots and headed down the hall to see what my family was doing.

  Trey was in the kitchen cooking something. It smelled delicious. Preston was in her high chair with a bib on that was thoroughly splattered with pureed carrots. She was chewing on a graham cracker; the soggy remnants of it were on her cheeks, chin and fingers. She smiled upon seeing me.

  Hey, baby,” Trey greeted me as he came over and kissed me warmly. “Are you ready to eat?”

  “What are you making?”

  “Homemade chicken stew,” he replied proudly. “Mom gave me the recipe when we talked this morning. I’ve got biscuits in the oven almost ready. Sit down; I’ll fix you a plate.”

  I obliged, relaxing on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, watching my husband dish up some of his chicken stew. He pulled a warm biscuit from the oven and put my plate in front of me. He grabbed some silverware and a napkin, placing them next to the plate. He waited for me to taste it. I took a spoonful and it was delicious.

  “Wow, this is great,” I said, taking another spoonful. “Aren’t you having some?”

  “In a second, sweetie,” he said, filling up our glasses with ice water. “Did you know Preston has a tooth coming through?” he asked.

  “Really? Which one?”

  “One of the bottom teeth. I felt it when she bit my finger this morning.”

  “She bit your finger?”

  He smiled sheepishly.

  Do I even want to know the details?

  “I didn’t have my back turned for more than thirty seconds, I swear. She crawled over to the coffee table and found a pack of my breath mints. When I picked her up to wipe the drool off of her chin I could see that she had something in her mouth.”

  Oh, dear Lord.

  “So, I tried to get my finger in her mouth, but she clamped her little mouth shut tight and twisted her head away from me. She gets that stubbornness from you, I think.”

  “Of course she does, Trey. Then what happened?”

  “Well, I carried her into the kitchen and put her in the high chair and got a graham cracker out for her. You know she loves those things, don’t you?”

  Umm . . . yeah!

  I nodded and smiled, waiting for him to finish the story.

  “So, I held it out to her just outside of her reach. When she started whining, she opened her mouth and I quickly got my fingers in there and snatched the breath mint.”

  He paused for a moment, filling a bowl with the chicken stew for himself. “I was nearly free and clear until she clamped down onto my finger and I felt something sharp under her gum. I ran my index finger along her bottom gum line and felt the sharp edge of a tooth coming through.”

  Trey was beaming with pride that he'd discovered this before me or anyone else. It was actually kind of adorable. “I want to see,” I said, jumping up and going to her. I tried to get her to open her mouth, but she was busy sucking on the soggy cracker.

  “I’m going to have to update her baby book,” I said, smiling at my baby girl. “Hey, you never told me why you were even out last night.”

  He'd taken his place at the table and started to eat. “I'd asked Jean to stay late the other day while she was here with Preston, when you were at the club training with Gina,” he replied.

  That must've been why she'd given me the strange look when I told her Trey would take over watching the baby once he got home from work.

  “It was supposed to be a surprise,” he said. “When I told Tristan about your investment, he got all pumped up about it and wanted to see the place. He was really excited. He wants to talk to you about carrying his wine selections exclusively there. He'll probably work out a sweet deal for both of you.”

  “Hmm,” I replied, “Tristan's happy about my investment, huh? Perhaps I married the wrong Sinclair.” I looked over at him as he cocked an eyebrow at me, taking a spoonful of stew and blowing on it to cool it off.

  “So, you think Tristan could make you moan and squeal the way I do, Mrs. Sinclair?”

  I wasn’t going there as the thoughts of my fantasy from last week surfaced in my mind. I felt myself blush. Trey was watching me.

  “You say the silliest things sometimes. I was talking about his not hating the idea of my investment, not sex.”

  “I didn’t mean to get you bent out of shape, baby,” he replied studying my reaction.

  “Speaking of Tristan,” I said, anxious to change the topic of sex, “Are you two still on speaking terms after last night?”

  “I think we’re good,” Trey replied. “I apologized to him. I was under the influence of alcohol and jealousy, after all. My brother knows how I roll.”

  "So, you really don’t care for Libby either, do you?”

  “I guess that’s no secret anymore,” he replied sardonically. “You know, I really wanted to like her, for Tristan’s sake. He hasn’t had a serious relationship for several years. Not since Tara. This just happened so fast and the way she cracks that whip, pardon the pun, is disturbing, at least to me.”

  “I know,” I said, picking at another biscuit. “Do you think he'll see the light before they set a date?”

  “I certainly hope so,” he replied, in a serious tone.

  “Getting back to the subject of the club, you'll be here with Preston tonight when I have to go in, right?”

  “Yes, Tylar,” he said. “But you and Gina need to work out your schedules so that I can know in advance whether we need to keep Jean on longer during the afternoons when you go in.”

  “I know, honey,” I replied. “I'll get with Gina on Sunday we when go over the week’s receipts and set a schedule in place. This all just happened so quickly.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  Preston started squirming in her high chair; her little face was beet red.

  Uh oh—I know that look.

  Trey laughed as he heard her grunt a couple of times with her reddened face. “Your turn, baby,” he teased, clearing our dishes. “It sounds like a triple gagger.”

  Hmmph,” I said, lifting her out of the high chair. “Gagging is for wimps.”

  I gave Trey a smile and a wink as I took the baby into the nursery to clean her up and start her bath.

  The day flew by and I was once again getting ready for work. Trey came into the bathroom as I was finishing up my make-up. I'd pulled my hair up this evening into a ponytail. He slid up behind me, leaning down and placing warm and sensual kisses on my neck.

  “Mmmm,” I sighed. “I hate leaving.”

  “I hate that you have to leave, baby. I want more of what we had last night.”

  “Which reminds me,” I said. “You and I need to talk about that.”

  “About what?”

  “About the fact we had unprotected sex. Trey, I'm not ready for another baby yet.”

  “Oh, Christ Tylar, do you think you're going to get pregnant not using birth control one time?”

  “Uhh…how did Preston get here sweetie?”

  “That had to be a long shot, statistically,” he remarked.

  “Statistics or not Trey, I do realize that a diaphragm requires advance planning and it doesn’t lend itself to spontaneity; condoms don’t let either of us really feel each other. Since I'm weaning her off the breast, perhaps there are other options I need to explore. I'll make an appointment with my doctor, okay?”


  “Okay, sweetie,” he replied, “but I do want another baby before too long.”

  “I'd like a couple of years between them. Let’s get settled in our new home first. We can start trying again next summer, okay?”

  “It'll be my pleasure, Mrs. Sinclair. Here,” he said, holding up my wedding set that I'd once again placed on the vanity while I'd put my make-up on and fixed my hair, “put this on."

  Chapter 24

  I was nuzzled out of my sleep on Sunday morning by my horny husband wanting to play. “Trey, please,” I whined. “I love you seven ways from Sunday, baby, but I'm so tired. I didn’t get home until 3:00 a.m.”

  “I know,” he said, kissing my face and neck. “You're keeping pretty late hours for a married woman.”

  “Trey—”

  “Okay, okay, sweetie, go back to sleep. I’ll take care of our baby this morning. Don’t forget though, we’re supposed to have lunch with Tristan and Libby at one.”

  “Yeah, okay. Make sure I’m up by eleven please?”

  “Will do, baby,” he said, rolling out of bed to get a fussing Preston from her room.

  Trey was promptly in our room with Preston at eleven. He'd dressed her horribly. He put her down on the bed, where she quickly crawled over to me, smiling. She cuddled against me. “Hi, baby girl,” I said yawning. “What are you wearing?”

  “Oh,” Trey said, grinning, “I thought maybe I'd get her dressed up a bit for lunch.” He'd dressed her in a red, black and green tartan plaid wool pleated skirt with a brown turtle neck sweater. He'd put dark blue knit tights on her and brown boots.

  “Thanks, sweetie,” I said, smiling at him, but mentally gagging at the obvious clashing of colors and styles.

  “Do you want something to eat before we meet Tristan for lunch? I made some sweet rolls and coffee earlier.”

  Trey was being so damn sweet my heart swelled with the love I had for him. So what if he was color blind? He had so many other great qualities, I decided. “Thanks, honey, it sounds good,” I said getting out from the covers and stretching. “I think I'll have a little something.”

  I managed to re-dress Preston before we left, changing out the brown sweater for a red one that matched the red in her plaid skirt. I substituted black knit tights and black dress shoes for her feet. I brushed her hair up into a little ponytail sprout. She looked adorable.

  We met Tristan and Libby at an upscale restaurant in Buckhead called “Sunday’s.” It was well known for the Sunday brunch menu they offered. Libby was dressed in her usual impeccable style that seemed distant from her sexual and social tastes. She'd worn her long blonde hair down straight with a black fedora hat perched saucily on her head. She'd dressed in a black wool skirt that was straight-cut with a slit up the back with black leather boots that sported silver spurs as accents.

  Libby seemed out of sorts that we'd brought the baby with us. She'd made a comment that she had little experience with children, since she and her sister had been raised by a nanny because her parents had traveled extensively.

  We ordered our lunch. Preston was seated at the end of the table in a high chair. I'd packed some graham crackers for her to snack on. She'd eaten some pureed bananas and nursed before we left. I tied her bib on her, knowing how messy she could get with her crackers.

  Libby ordered a double Bloody Mary and quiche; Trey and I ordered Spanish omelets and iced tea; Tristan ordered a spinach salad and club soda. Our conversation consisted of catching up on how things were going with Tristan’s expanded winery. It would be in full production by the first of the year. Libby filled us in on the end of year close-out sales at the various boutiques and sex shops in the distribution chain of Sexabella Products. She told Trey she could hook him up with some stocking stuffers for Christmas at a large discount. She handed him her card, which he pocketed. I made a mental note to toss it in the trash when I did laundry.

  The waitress brought Libby her second Bloody Mary and I noticed, once again, how much attention she was paying to Trey. I couldn’t understand why Tristan was oblivious to it.

  Tristan and I were having a side conversation about the club. He said he would like to discuss a business venture with me later concerning the club and his interest in buying into it.

  He said that he had some solid ideas that would benefit all concerned. I told him I'd be more than happy to discuss it. The truth was, I would entertain another partner as long as Gina approved, as I really needed to cut my hours there. I missed Trey and the baby too much on the weekends.

  Preston had been gumming her graham crackers for a few minutes and naturally had a soggy mess going on with her fingers and around her mouth. I pulled my cloth napkin out, wiping her mouth and fingers. She passed some gas and giggled at the sound. In a few moments, Trey noticed her cheeks getting beet red and he nudged me. I looked over and saw the same, just as she grunted audibly.

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Libby commented, rolling her eyes in disgust and waving her hand around her nose as if she was about to pass out. “That smells terrible. It has simply killed my appetite.”

  “Now, baby,” Tristan consoled her, reaching over to rub her cheek, “that's just what babies do.”

  “That’s why they’re gross,” she said, still fanning her face.

  “Think about it; one day we'll have one of our own that will be making a mess with his or her crackers and crapping in their diaper whenever they feel the need.”

  “The hell you say,” she said laughing, downing the rest of her drink. “I don’t do diapers, baby.”

  “Then I'll change them all, sweetheart,” he said, kissing her lightly on the nose.

  I lifted Preston out of her high chair and grabbed her diaper bag, taking her to the restroom to change her. What was in Preston’s diaper at the moment was preferable to what was being said at our table. It was getting a bit too deep out there for me. It was obvious that Libby didn’t possess a maternal instinct. Tristan was certainly blinded by something.

  Thankfully, the restroom was equipped with a changing station. I had to pull off Preston’s shoes and tights to get to the offensive diaper. I finally got her cleaned up, changed and re-dressed. When we got back to the table, Trey was sitting there by himself. Our food had arrived. I put Preston back in the high chair and sat down.

  “Where are Tristan and Libby?” I asked, looking around.

  “They left.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Libby claimed that the smell of baby poop had made her nauseous; they had their food boxed up to go.”

  “You're kidding, right?”

  “Nope; dead serious. She’s quite a piece of work. I can’t believe Tristan tolerates her shit.”

  “I can’t either,” I said, cutting into my Spanish omelet.

  “Tristan said to let you know he'll stop by the club Monday afternoon before he heads back to Bristol to discuss his business proposition. What’s that about?”

  “Oh,” I replied, “Tristan is interested in buying into the club. He wants to distribute his wine in this area and said something about having the Sanctuary carry it exclusively.”

  “Sounds like he might want to buy you out,” Trey commented.

  “Would that please you, Trey?”

  “I’m not going to lie; it would make me happy. Ultimately, that's your decision to make.”

  I asked Trey to drop me by the club on our way home so that I could help Gina get the weekly receipts categorized for the accountant.

  “How long will you be there today?” he questioned, not hiding his irritation.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll have Gina drop me back at home so you can watch football uninterrupted.”

  “It’s not that, baby. We haven’t seen each other all weekend. I work through the week and now you'll be working mostly weekends and some evenings during the week. When will we have our time?”

  “We’ll figure it out, Trey.”

  I leaned over and gave him a kiss before I got out of the car. Gina’s car was in
the lot along with the cleaning crew’s van. We were out of there in about an hour and a half. I mentioned to her as she drove me home about Tristan’s interest in the club. I hoped she'd be receptive to it.

  “Hey, I’ve got no problem with hearing his proposal tomorrow,” she said. “It just better not include that blonde bitch he’s engaged to.”

  “Not too many people in the Libby fan club, it seems,” I replied. “Finally, you and Trey agree on something.”

  “So, the Hot Nazi doesn’t care for her either?”

  “He can’t stand her. Are you surprised?”

  She shrugged and continued driving.

  “What, Gina?”

  “Well, I didn’t say anything the other night because it was obvious that you were already knee-deep in drama, but that chick was all over Trey every time Tristan went to piss or got another drink at the bar.”

  “What?” I screeched, fuming that Gina hadn't told me this until now.

  “Calm down, Tylar. It wasn’t like Trey reciprocated or asked for the attention. You know damn well I’d have taken action on my own, if that was the case.”

  “Define all-over-Trey for me, please.”

  “Well, she'd touch him, you know? Like, if she laughed, she'd toss her hair back and brush her hand against his shoulder or chest, lean into him, stuff like that. I could tell Trey wasn't comfortable with it at all.”

  I relayed to Gina the episode this afternoon at the restaurant with Libby.

  “You know, Ty, Tristan is a gorgeous man and Libby is pretty enough, I guess, but it seems to me that he's way too good for her.”

  “I totally agree. I think his whole blindness to her is because he really wants marriage and a family. I’d like to think that Trey and I might have played a part in influencing him in that direction.”

  Gina gave me a sidelong glance.

  “What?”

  “Does Tristan have a clue as to how much you two fight?”

  “We don’t fight that much, Gina. We just disagree at times, but then we work it out.”