Only In Dreams (Stubborn Love Series)

by Owens, Wendy

  “Really?” Henry asks, and then leans close to my ear, his hot breath tickling it. “Because I’ve missed fucking you.”

  The second the dirty word is breathed into my ear, I feel my legs go weak. This man! He knows exactly how to turn me into a pile of goo.

  “Shit,” I blurt out, realizing the logistics of this kind of sucked.

  “You don’t like the idea of me fucking you?” He asks, confused.

  “Oh no!” I exclaim. “I very much like that idea. It’s just, well … I’m in the guest room of my friends’ house. Not exactly the best place to get our freak on.”

  “Well then, you’ll be happy to know I’ve booked a room at the inn.”

  “What?”

  “I didn’t want to impose on your friends any further, so I booked a room before I left.”

  “Oh Henry, I could not love you any more right now.” I squeal.

  Even though Henry and I have been apart for an entire month there is no awkwardness. We fall right back into our roles, exchanging jokes and laughing, a loving couple, sure in who they are. He finds it particularly entertaining that I’m driving around in what he calls a monster truck. I kind of pride myself on the fact that he seems just a little more city than me now.

  There isn’t a moment of silence on the drive back. Of course, this is mostly due to the fact that I can’t seem to shut up. I want Henry to know everything, well, almost everything. We talked on the phone every night, so most of what I tell him is things he already knows. Henry just watches me, jabbering on, smiling, and content to just listen.

  Pulling into the vacant parking space in front of the inn, I glance down the street to see if perhaps Emmie or Colin is outside. I don’t see anyone, but I can hear the sound of Christian shaving away in the courtyard.

  Hopping out of the truck, I walk around next to Henry. “Should we go say hi to everyone or check in first?”

  Henry looks at me with a sly grin.

  “What?” I ask innocently, even though I already know exactly what that sinister look means.

  “I know what I want to do.”

  “Henry, what about everyone else?”

  “I haven’t seen my fiancé in a month. Sorry if I don’t give a damn about them right now,” he explains, pulling me close. I feel nervous for a moment, like someone is watching us, but with his strong arms wrapped around me that feeling melts away. “I want you so bad.”

  “Okay,” I say with a soft giggle. “Let’s go.”

  He leans in, kissing me. You would have thought we’ve been apart for a year from the intense passion. He pulls away, and before I can catch my breath, he turns, pulling me up the stairs of the quaint inn in record time.

  PULLING ON MY cardigan, I stare at myself in the mirror. It’s quite evident from my tousled hair what has just transpired between Henry and me. Glancing around the room, I suddenly realize I hadn’t paid any attention to the decor when we entered. My mind was clearly in other places.

  The bed is covered in a grandma-style floral quilt, and the drapes on the windows look like they were hung thirty years ago, the lace at the edges now yellowed with age. Besides the dated feel, the room is clean, but I can’t help feeling we somehow violated the room.

  “Are you sure you want to stay here and not over at Colin and Em’s?” I ask. I’m now quite used to my little room with the short ceilings in my friends’ home. The idea of staying in these foreign surroundings for the next few days does not seem appealing.

  “No, this place is fine. After all, here I won’t have to worry about how loud we get,” Henry replies with a devilish grin. I’m not so sure I agree with him. I can only imagine who might have their ear up against the wall in the room next to us.

  “So, how do I look?” Henry asks, holding out his arms and doing a turn for me, as if he were on the runway.

  “What?” I laugh, surprised by the question.

  “Hey! These are your friends; I want to make a good impression. I doubt they even remember me from the wedding.” My heart grows warm, the sweetness of his gesture washing over me.

  “They’re going to love you no matter what you’re wearing,” I reassure.

  “Well, of course they are. I’m quite lovable, as you well know.”

  I walk over to him, slipping my hand between his button-up gray shirt and navy blazer. I pull his body close to me, resting my forehead on his chin. “That you are,” I whisper.

  “Ready?” he asks. Suddenly I feel a rush of butterflies. I’m nervous. Why am I nervous? I’ve talked so much about Henry it is like Colin and Emmie already know him. There is no reason to be nervous. Unless … it isn’t Colin and Emmie I’m worried about at all. How will Christian act when he’s actually face to face with Henry? It is very clear—by that night on the dance floor—that Christian is still feeling something for me, no matter how well he is able to hide it.

  What if he’s rude to Henry? How will Henry react to that? What if Henry starts to suspect something is going on between us? There’s nothing going on! I want to scream the words, but know that would prove very confusing for Henry.

  “Babe?” Henry questions, his voice vibrating through my forehead. “Are you all right?”

  “Of course,” I say, pulling away and flashing him a smile. “Let’s head over. It’s almost dinner time, and I’m famished.”

  “Yeah, you need some good, Texan food to fatten you up for the wedding.”

  I take hold of Henry’s hand to lead him from the room. He pulls away, to turn and walk over to his overnight bag, removing a small bottle from the pouch on the side.

  “What are you doing?” I inquire.

  “Oh, nothing, just something the doctor gave me to help with the headaches,” Henry explains.

  “Are they that bad?” I ask, staring at him sympathetically.

  “No, not all the time. You’re not reconsidering are you?”

  “What are you talking about?” I’m confused.

  “Marrying me. Are you thinking about trading in your nerdy allergy-ridden fiancé? You know the vows specifically say ‘in sickness and in health.’”

  “Hmm …” I begin, pretending the idea needed some serious consideration.

  “Hey!” Henry gasps and then laughs.

  “Never,” I confirm. “But seriously, how often are you getting these headaches?”

  “Babe, I promise, they’re getting better. They’ve got me on an elimination diet, so we’ll have this figured out in no time. I’m also going in after the holidays for a scan just to be safe.” He steps forward, grabbing me by the arms, forcing me to look into his eyes. “I promise, I’m taking care of it, and there’ s nothing to worry about.”

  But I am worried. I love Henry, and I can’t stand the idea of him being sick. “Maybe I should fly home with you.”

  “No!” he exclaims. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to have you home with me, as my personal nurse, but you need this. And honestly, it’s either work or rest for me these days. You’d be bored out of your mind.”

  “You need to let me know if things get worse, and I’ll come home. Promise me,” I demand.

  Henry laughs, pulling me close and hugging me tight, “I promise, if I get worse, you can come home. But I won’t get worse. I’m already feeling much better. I think the elimination diet’s working.”

  We turn and walk out the room, Henry pulling the door closed behind us. “So tell me, how ready are you for the show?” He changes the subject as I link my arm through his, preparing to cross the street.

  “I actually have all of the designs sketched, a few designs are completed and some of the other pieces are taking form. My biggest problem now is that I don’t have any room to work,” I explain.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have fabrics bursting from all corners of my room. What I really need is a studio with a bunch of figures. I’m constantly having to reuse the same figure, and I spend most of my time looking for the right thread because it’s buried under my masses of suppli
es.”

  I look up at Henry; it’s obvious his wheels are spinning.

  “What are you thinking?” I ask, knowing him all too well.

  “Just brainstorming solutions,” he replies. That’s Henry—always trying to fix whatever problem I have.

  “It’s not a big deal, babe. It will be a great story to share when I’m a famous designer one day.”

  “Ahhh!” Emmie shrieks as she emerges from the entrance of the gallery, Olivia on her hip. “Henry, we’re so glad you’re here.”

  Colin follows close behind her, reaching out to take the baby from her, allowing Em to close in for the hug. She wraps her arms around Henry. I can tell he’s not sure how to respond. Henry is more like me when it comes to affection from people. We’re fine with one another, but an ‘outsider’ makes us terribly uncomfortable. Emmie is family to me now; it is time he learned to accept her as the same.

  “Hello, wow,” he says, smiling as Emmie pulls away, staring at him. “What a warm welcome.”

  “Are you two hungry? I’ll warn you, the entire place smells of pork. I threw some meat in the crockpot when you left earlier so we could have carnitas tonight,” Emmie explains. In true Emmie fashion, she continues talking. I notice whenever she has guests she rambles on incessantly.

  “I’m not sure if Henry has ever eaten food from a crockpot,” I interject.

  The group falls silent, and everyone turns to look at me in disbelief. Henry’s brow furrows.

  “What?” I ask. “Your family isn’t exactly the crockpot type.”

  “I’m not from outer space, sweetheart,” he laughs. “I got through college thanks to a slow cooker.” I wonder how I don’t know this detail.

  We head inside, the flow of conversation never stopping. They ask him about his work, about New York, all the things that are part of the world I used to be a part of. I suddenly start feeling insecure, like I don’t have a home. Am I a New Yorker? Do I belong in Texas now? Good Lord, Paige, who in the hell are you?

  We move our way through the gallery, back into he kitchen area, and the small dining nook off to the side. I suddenly realize Christian is nowhere to be found. Even though I’m nervous about them officially meeting, I’m also looking forward to getting it over with and moving on with our vacation together.

  “You’ve got an amazing set up here.” Henry remarks.

  “It works for us right now, but if our family gets any bigger, we might have to think about a house.” Colin explains. “For now, though, it works really well for us.”

  “So, Paige tells me your brother has a shop right next door.” Henry says. I’m surprised by his topic transition.

  Colin looks at me, then back at Henry. I can tell the subject shift makes Colin uncomfortable. “Yeah, I’d planned to turn the space next to this into additional living quarters, but when Christian came back, he decided he wanted to give his carving business a try. It seemed to work out for everyone.”

  “You’re a very generous brother to simply give him the space like that,” Henry comments, leaning over and looking out the window, his words feel a little sharp.

  “Well, he does pay rent for the space, so I’m not really sure if that’s very generous.” I can sense a tone of defensiveness in Colin’s voice. “So sorry you won’t be able to meet him on your visit, though.”

  “What?” I gasp before thinking. The entire group looks at me. “I mean—I don’t understand. He didn’t tell me he’d be gone.”

  “Oh, it was last minute. He got a call this afternoon that the rush order he was working on needed to be delivered right away. Apparently he couldn’t find a delivery company that could take it on such short notice, so he decided to deliver it himself,” Colin explains.

  The group is quiet as I contemplate the information. That makes no sense. In the entire time I’ve been here, Christian has not left to make a single delivery. I know I heard him in the courtyard when we got back. Is he trying to be rude to Henry on purpose? Is he playing games of some kind? I’m not impressed and actually quite pissed off about his behavior. I thought we were past this kind of shit.

  “Ah well, more carnitas for us,” Henry says with a smile.

  I shake my head. Why am I letting Christian get to me? If he wants to act like a complete ass, then that is his choice. The man I am going to marry is here, spending time with my closest friends. I’m not about to let my ex ruin it.

  “So, Colin, I noticed the space across the street is for rent,” Henry comments.

  Colin looks at him, puzzled. “The old Stone Mill Bakery?” he asks.

  Pressing his lips together, Henry shakes his head. “I don’t know. Would that be the one a few doors down from the inn?”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” Emmie replies.

  “Do you know the story on it?” Henry asks, and I find myself just as clueless as the rest of the group.

  “The Meyer family owns the space. The parents ran the bakery for forty years—until they were too old. The kids didn’t want to go into the family business so they closed up shop. They’ve been trying to rent it out for the past six months. Why?” Colin questions.

  “Do you think they would consider renting it out for a month?” Henry asks.

  Colin tilts his head. “Just a month?”

  “Paige needs some place to spread out, and if it’s just sitting there, I thought they may consider letting her use the space. I’m happy to pay a month’s rent, of course.”

  “Henry—” I say. “Are you serious?”

  “Of course, I want this show to be perfect for you, and if you need more room to work, then let’s find you some space.”

  “Well, yeah, I’m sure they’d be happy to rent it out for a month,” Colin says, smiling. “I’ll call them first thing tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, I’d appreciate that.”

  I bury my head in Henry’s chest, fighting back tears. He’s always thinking about me. I wish I could give him a piece of what he’s given me, but I don’t even know where to begin. He has this instinct when it comes to taking care of me. I’m not a woman who allows herself to be cared for. My mother never took care of me, I took care of Christian, and for my entire life, I was used to this role.

  I take a deep breath, concentrating on purging thoughts of Christian from my mind. Henry is my soul mate, and this visit is exactly what I need to remember that.

  I’M NOT SURE how long I’ve been laying here, in this bed, staring at the curtains blowing in the open window, lost in my thoughts. I took Henry back to the airport earlier this morning. I told him I wanted to go home with him. I’d been away long enough, and I was home sick.

  He wouldn’t hear of it. He told me there were far too many distractions in New York, and if I am honest with myself, I know he’s right. I have a circle of friends there that always have a hard time of taking no for an answer. If I went home, I would find myself at a club every night, never working on my designs. But I don’t care, being away from Henry for a month was tolerable, but I feel like I’ve reached my limit.

  While he was here, he managed to rent the space across the street, and we moved most of my stuff in, except, of course, what’s in Christian’s shop since he never came back. My thoughts drift to him, in an instant outrage consumes me again.

  Christian has always had a way of figuring out the perfect ways to hurt me. He makes me think we’re friends. That our past is behind us, that I don’t have to worry about all the baggage of our previous relationship. He even told me he was excited to meet Henry, and then he disappears. I don’t know why I thought he’d actually changed.

  Suddenly I hear a door slam. Hopping to my feet, I make my way to the window. I lean out, searching for the source. My stomach twists as I see Christian walking around the corner, and with a jingle of his keys, opening the door to his studio.

  The anxiety in the pit of my stomach quickly shifts into sour, hot anger. Christian behaves the way he does because nobody ever calls him out on it. I mean, really, should everyone walk on eggsh
ells because he manages not to binge drink these days? Being a recovering alcoholic doesn’t give you a license to be a complete asshole.

  I race to the bedroom door, no longer moping about Henry heading home. I’m on a mission now … a mission to set Christian Bennett straight. If nobody else is going to tell him how immature his behavior can be, then I’ll be happy to step in and take care of what needs done. He’s the one who reached out to me, who wanted to be friends. Well, he’s about to get a dose of what a real friend does—they tell you the things that are sometimes hard to hear.

  Thudding down the stairs, I don’t say anything to Emmie as I brush past her, the heat now emanating from my face. She might have said something as I walk out the back door, but I can’t be sure as the blood pulsing in my ears is deafening.

  I don’t knock, and I don’t hesitate. I throw open the door to Christian’s studio and walk in as if I own the place. He is on the other side of the room, and when he catches site of me he freezes.

  “Christian Bennett,” I say sternly, cringing slightly as I quickly realize I sound like a raging bitch. I pause, considering my next words carefully. Then I remember why I’m so angry. He says nothing, only continues to stare at me.

  “What’s wrong with you? I mean it. I really want to know—what exactly is broken inside that thick head of yours?”

  He shifts his weight from foot to foot, uncomfortable by my tone.

  “Well? Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to say something?”

  “I would say something if I had any clue what you were talking about,” he answers calmly.

  “Oh, please, don’t play dumb with me. You knew exactly what you were doing from the moment I came here.”

  “No, really. I don’t know why you’re so angry,” he insists.

  I’m insulted that he thinks I’m so stupid. If this is how he wants to play it, though, I am more than happy to lay it all out for him. “I come down here with the intention of working and spending time with my best friend. I didn’t even know you were here when I decided to come.”

  “And you’re mad at me for what exactly?”