Only in Dreams(36)

“He needs to be held accountable for his behavior, Colin; nobody around here seems to do that,” I say pointedly.

“Look, I don’t know what you think he did wrong, but he really did have a delivery he had to go take care of.”

“You can leave the boxes,” I say, making it clear I have no desire to have this conversation with him. He leaves without another word.

Walking to the front window of the shop, I peer out across the street. My pride won’t let me tell Colin I’ve already doubted my reaction with Christian. Two days to think about my blow up has made me realize there is probably a good chance I didn’t respond in the best way. Christian and I always had a heated relationship. Both of us have tempers, which is probably why the passion between us was always so intense.

Christian had made a point I’m struggling with. Just because we’re friends doesn’t mean he has to run his schedule by me. In the courtyard I catch sight of him playing with Olivia, spinning her around like she is on an airplane ride, her head tilted back in laughter. Colin walks over to join them.

Watching the boys like this, playing with Olivia, I start to actually feel guilty. Damn it! Maybe I am wrong.

As I exit the shop and make my way across the street, Colin turns to say something to Christian as he sees me. He grabs Olivia and heads into the gallery. My paranoia is heightened by the exchange, and I wonder what was said about me. Seriously, Paige? Who are you? Since when do you give a damn what anyone thinks? I try like hell not to cave to the insecurities I’m not even aware I have.

Approaching Christian, I feel a lump forming in my throat. He begins waving his arms in front of his face before saying, “Whoa, truce, before you bite my head off again. I didn’t think you’d want to see me, but you might need what was in those boxes. That’s the only reason I sent Colin over, all right?”

I give a half smile, then with a deep swallow, proceed to deliver as sincere an apology as I can, still not fully convinced he hadn’t avoided Henry and I on purpose.

“I may have overreacted the other day.”

“Wait, was that an apology? It’s so hard to tell with you.”

“Funny,” I groan with a glare.

“It’s fine,” Christian says flatly, turning and walking away from me, toward his wood shop. “I shouldn’t have promised to meet Henry and then disappear without notice. That was rude, and I’m sorry,” he adds over his shoulder.

Is he seriously walking away from me while we are having a conversation? I can’t believe what I am seeing. He turns, gives me a short wave, and calls out for me to have a good night before heading inside. There is no way it just went down like that. I’m going to get to the bottom of what is going on with him—sooner rather than later. Walking up the narrow concrete path through the courtyard, I waste no time in pushing open the front door of his studio. Christian is already walking into the back room when I enter.

“Christian!” I yell after him.

“Did I forget one of the boxes?” he calls back, never leaving the room he hides in.

With heavy steps, I cross the long room. “What is going on with you?”

“Huh?” I hear him groan from the other side of the wall.

I rush across to the opening of the back room. He’s looking at me, his eyebrows lifted, distressed by my presence. “Something is up with you. For a month we’re fine, hanging out even, and I thought we were actually becoming friends again. Then you ditch us when Henry comes.”

“So we’re back to this again?”

“No, I mean—I just apologized, and then you walked away. What the hell is your deal?”

Christian looks at the large chunk of wood in front of him. “I don’t have a deal. What I have is a lot of work to do, so if you don’t mind, can you tell me how I should have reacted so I can get back to it?”

Using every ounce of energy I have, I refuse to give him the satisfaction of me losing my temper and shouting at him. “I do mind. I mind that you act like my friend when you’re clearly interested in being anything but. Jesus, are you drinking again?”

That comment clearly gets his attention. He lifts his chin, dropping the chisel in his hand to the floor and races across the room, his jaw clenched tight. “You should really be careful what you say. I haven’t touched a drop since Olivia, and I told you that. You can do a lot of damage to someone with unfounded accusations.”

“Then why are you acting so strange?” I push, remorseful for my words.

He looks away, frustrated.

I reach out and grab his arms.

“Tell me, what’s going on? Did I do something?” I ask.