Only in Dreams(8)

Henry laughs, setting the paper to the side. “I know, and I’m sorry. I’m off work. The last thing I should be doing is reading the financials.”

“Oh yeah?” I taunt. “Then what exactly should you be doing?’

“How about we spend the entire day together?” Henry suggests.

“That sounds perfect,“ I reply “But … I have crazy amounts of work to do for the show. It’s ten weeks away, and I haven’t even sketched all of the designs.”

Henry leans forward and grabs me with his strong and powerful grasp, pulling me into his body and wrapping his arms around me. “I see how it is,” he teases. “You tell me I work too hard, but who can’t take a day off now?”

“Hey wait,” I laugh, then chime defensively. “The only reason I have to work so hard is because somebody, whose name I shall not mention, committed me to a show with a four-month deadline.”

Henry nibbles on my neck, and I squirm, the ticklish sensation overwhelming me. It’s pointless to struggle though; his embrace is far too strong for me to break free.

“You’re welcome,” he says at last, then continues. “You also have a wedding to plan, if I do recall.”

I stiffen. The mention of the wedding reminds me of the dream I had the night before … the dream of Christian. Why did I have that dream? I somehow always manage to do this to myself, when I find happiness, I inevitably find some way to sabotage it.

“Are you all right?” Henry asks, sensing the shift in my body. His arms fall to his side, releasing me, and he stares, waiting for a response.

“I’m fine,” I lie, slinking back to my seat, doing my best not to look into those blue eyes. I’m not fine—I feel terrible—this man who loves me with everything in him deserves to have someone who isn’t as messed up as I am. Someone who doesn’t dream about a man she hasn’t been with for over four years. I can’t lose Henry. I need him. He is more than the best chapter of my life; he’s helped me figure out who and what I want.

“Baby, something’s wrong. Come on, you can tell me,” he pushes, stretching out an arm and placing his hand on top of mine. His fingers are masculine yet slender. I always enjoy tracing them with my tiny, pale fingertips. With his other hand he reaches up and tucks a stray wiry auburn strand of hair behind my ear, and lifts my chin with his fingertips, forcing me to look at him. “I love you. Now tell me.”

For a brief second I think about telling him, but men have a jealous habit and don’t exactly understand. I don’t know what the dream meant, but it probably doesn’t mean anything. Christian and I have been over for quite some time. There are no lingering feelings, in fact, I rarely even think of him now.

“I think I’m just feeling overwhelmed. There are so many distractions here, and it feels like I’ll never be able to get it all done in time,” I say, shifting the focus away from the dream I don’t want to talk about.

“Well, what can I do? Do you need more help with the wedding? Maybe I can take some days off,” Henry offers. And there it is, that guy who can’t stand for me to be unhappy. I’m the center of his world, and he is never afraid to let me know it. I wish I were as brave.

“I know you’re busy with work. You’re taking three weeks off for our honeymoon. You don’t have any more time to give, but I do appreciate it,” I reply, gripping his hand firmly in my own.

“What about a girlfriend? Can you enlist one of them to help you?” Henry suggests.

I burst out laughing, and he peers back at me, puzzled. “I wouldn’t exactly call any of my friends in New York helpful. Emmie is the only one I can count on, but with her and Colin living in Texas now, that’s not going to happen.”

I watch Henry’s face twist, and then suddenly it lights up. “It’s settled then.”

Shaking my head, I ask, “What’s settled?”

“Today we spend the day together, tomorrow, you’re on a plane to Texas.”

“What? I have too much to do, I can’t.”

“Exactly. You have too much to do. Emmie will be the perfect solution. I’ll ship you everything you need for the fashion show, you work on that while Emmie helps with the wedding planning. It’s only ten weeks, Paige. We’ll talk every night; I’ll fly down for visits when I can. In ten weeks you’ll be home, the show will be amazing, another week after that we’ll be married, and I’ll be caught up on my work, which means I can leave the firm for three whole weeks in paradise.”

I tilt my head and think about the suggestion for a moment. “Well, when you put it like that.”