Chasing the Dream: Dream Series, Book 3 (35 page)

In a panic, I threw on clothes, and stuffed my last remaining things in my suitcase and ran downstairs. Finding Chase and his mom in the living room, clearly having startled them from a deep conversation, I rushed with my apology. “I’m so sorry to interrupt and I’m sorry I overslept. We need to call the airport and try and get on a later flight today! I’m so sorry I caused us to miss our—”

“Tomorrow,” Chase said coolly, still in Brit Mode. “We’re going back to New York tomorrow.”

“What? But…we’re supposed to be back today. I have things I
need
to do today,” I said glaring at him. “And you’re supposed to be on set tomorrow. Omigod. Valerie is going to kill me. I’m so going to lose my job. This summer couldn’t get any worse.”

I was vaguely aware that I didn’t have enough air in my lungs, and the pounding of my heart filling my head. The room started to tilt. I was confused when I saw two of Chase in front of me…

I opened my eyes, disoriented, to a wet cloth on my forehead, and saw a ceiling. I glanced around me to see Chase at my side, with that wet cloth. I was lying on the sofa. I tried to sit up. Chase pushed me back down.

“You okay, honey?” Shannon asked. And standing next to her was Brock. Oh god. Did I really pass out again? And did the whole family see?

“I’m fine,” I squeaked. My voice sounded weak and thready. “Please, I just need to sit up.” I looked at Chase. Concern was all over his face, but he helped me sit up anyway.

“We were just about to call Doctor Perry,” he said, straightening my shirt nervously.

“No, I’m fine, really. I think I just need breakfast,” I said.

“Yes, breakfast is important. But it’s more like time for lunch. What can I get you?”

“I’ll just find some—” I started while trying to get up off of the sofa. Chase again restrained me.

“Mum, can you please bring a few things for her. Maybe a banana for her blood sugar and a piece of toast. Orange juice, too.” Shannon smiled at me, and was off toward the kitchen.

“Chase,” I protested. He glared at me. I reasoned it was better to not piss him off further by using his stage name, so I changed course. “Charlie, I’m perfectly capable of—”

“I know. But you’re going to sit and we’re going to have a chat. I’ve done a lot of thinking. And I mean
a lot.
” He glanced at the kitchen. “I talked with my mum this morning, as well.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and fell back against the sofa. How fucking humiliating. I silently prayed that the ground would open up like those sink holes that had been on the news. The ones that swallow cars—whole. Or, that I was still sleeping and that all of this…and I mean
ALL
of this was a horrible nightmare. And now Charlie’s Southern drawl was replaced with this British accent that I normally loved, but now…

“There are other choices than abortions,” he continued.

I winced at the word. That word sounded worse with a British accent than it did with an American one. I didn’t want to have one. I just felt so…trapped. I couldn’t see any other choice. Have the baby and be a resentful mother my whole life, or end it now. Tears filled my eyes, again, and there was no stopping them.

I looked cautiously at a blurry Charlie. He handed me a framed photo.

I wiped the tears from my eyes and took it. With considerable effort, I focused on the image. I saw a young couple. A couple that looked insanely like Charlie, her striking blue eyes, and his jawline and thick blonde hair.

“Those are my biological parents. Carrie and Dillon. Dillinger, formally.” I looked at Charlie, confused. “I’m adopted. Shannon and Charlie are my adoptive parents.”

Adopted?
Chase Smythe, Charles/Charlie Dillinger Smith was adopted? I had been a fan of Chase’s…Charlie’s…for ten years. How did I not know this?

“She was fifteen, he was eighteen. Her dad nearly shot his balls off with a shotgun when he found out. Got off two rounds, actually, as the story goes. Needless to say, marriage and keeping the baby were out of the question.” I noticed that his British accent was starting to drop off. Replacing it was the Southern drawl I’d grown accustomed to over the past few days. “Shannon and Charlie had been trying to have a baby for years. They came close a few times, but Shannon…she just wasn’t able to carry a baby. After four miscarriages, they gave up. Actually, Shannon had one of those surgeries so it was impossible for her to get pregnant again. She couldn’t handle losing another baby. Dillion’s family knew someone who knew someone who knew someone who knew Charlie and Shannon. Long story short, Carrie and Dillon’s ‘accident’ became Shannon and Charlie’s greatest joy. Me.” I watched Charlie as his eyes welled and then spilled with tears, and his voice cracked. “Granted, things haven’t been perfect, but damn, I’ve had a great life. All because Carrie and Dillion didn’t ‘take care of it.’ Do you know what I’m saying?”

I wanted to speak, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t even think. He was right, of course. I knew people who couldn’t have babies and would give anything to have one. And I knew I was selfish with the whole not wanting to be pregnant. To have people look at the ‘young lady who got knocked up.’

“I’ll stand beside you, no matter what you choose, but give this some serious thought. I’ll help you find an adoption agency. I’ll go to appointments with you. These will be my ‘five hundred miles and five hundred more.’ You could make a couple so, so very happy.” Charlie sniffled, his tears flowing freely, as were mine. Charlie took my hands in his and gently rubbed his thumb over the knuckles.

“You…You don’t hate me?” I squeaked.

“Holy shit! No! I know you didn’t do this on purpose. My mom helped me realize that, and I know it was hard for you to tell me. And I feel like an ass for pushing you, but we can weather this, Phoebe. We can make lemonade out of lemons. You’ll consider adoption?”

“You s..s..still want to be with me?” My tears were racing down my cheeks and I knew my nose was a runny mess.

“I do,” Charlie whispered, and stared right into my eyes. I could see it all there, written as plain as day all over his face. My heart burst with joy, even though my head was still grappling with all the decisions to be made and the incredibly rough road that lay ahead of me.

He didn’t hate me. He still cared. He still wanted to be with me.

“We’ll go back tomorrow. I’m sure you want to talk to your mom. We can talk to her—together, if you want.” His eyes implored my face seeking agreement.

Again, words failed me. I just nodded. His face burst into the biggest smile I’d ever seen. He used the back of his sleeve and wiped his face, then offered me his other sleeve. I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of us using his sleeves for our tears and runny noses, but if that wasn’t love, I didn’t know what was. The gesture almost had me crying harder. Instead, we chose to laugh.

Shannon came in with a tray piled with toast, a banana, a bowl of berries, and orange juice. “Things okay here?” Charlie looked at me cautiously. Tears again threatening, I just smiled quietly and nodded. Shannon beamed and left me and Charlie with my ‘breakfast.’

I sent my mom a quick text letting her know that I wouldn’t be coming back to New York today, but I’d be home on Friday, and I’d call her then. I had to admit, I was a little grateful for the extra day to avoid talking to my mom. I only hoped I would have a clearer mind by then.

As I ate, Charlie told me more about his adoption. It was an open adoption and he visited with his birth parents regularly. Today, Carrie and Dillon were actually married, for eleven years now, and had three kids, all under the age of ten, which meant that Charlie was a big brother. It was certainly a new way to look at him. Carrie was now a teacher, teaching second grade, and Dillon owned a car repair shop. Guess that’s where Charlie got his knack for fixing cars.

I was amazed that Charlie took everything about his adoption so well. He didn’t seem at all bitter about being put up for adoption. He said that at first, he was pissed. He’d learned that ‘Aunt Carrie’ and ‘Uncle Dillon’ were actually his biological parents when he was thirteen, and refused to visit them for two years. But when he was fifteen, and realized that Carrie was only fifteen when she’d gotten pregnant, it hit home, and slowly he started to forgive Carrie and Dillon.

“C’mon. Let’s get some fresh air,” he whispered, as I finished. He stood, and pulled me to my feet. I went without resistance. We stood face-to-face, the energy bouncing between us like an open current in an electrical line. Charlie took my face in his hands and leaned in, and kissed me softly.

“Let me love you, Phoebe,” he whispered. “I love you so much. I’m sorry I was an ass last night.”

I could hardly believe the past twenty-four hours. And if I was still sleeping and this was a dream, I didn’t want to wake up. He knew my secrets. And I knew his. He was still here. Chasing me. I understood what it meant to be overcome with emotion.

“I love you, too, Charlie,” I replied. And I meant it. Not just the passion or tenderness of the moment, but on that level where you understood someone just as much as they understood you.

Upon hearing me use the name
Charlie,
his eyes hooded and a wicked smile tilted his lips. He leaned down to brush those glorious, full, soft lips against mine. He moaned slightly when my tongue darted out to lick at his lips. Our lips parted and our tongues coupled and danced, a new hunger between us. An understanding. One I felt from head to toe.

He grabbed my hand and we raced out of the front door, not even stopping to slip on shoes. Barefoot, we ran out to the fields. We walked among the sunflowers that were just starting to take off. Charlie filled me in on the type of varieties his mother grew: Mammoth, which were sold to a local snack company for sunflower seeds; and for cutting and selling she grew Sunbeams and Teddy Bears. He was saying that the fields would soon be tall enough to hide us completely. I could only imagine how much fun that would be.

I talked about the things I wanted to do with my career in the broadcasting world and the traveling I wanted to do. Charlie talked about what he’d like to do with his career, like directing and producing. We talked about family, even his biological family, and his very funny brother and two sisters, one prissy and the other a ‘jock.’ I talked about my brothers and where they were and what they were up to.

When Charlie asked about the baby’s father, I told him. I told him everything. How naïve I was. How I thought he really cared for me. But he was really just using me as a plaything. For what reason I had no idea. But apparently in bed I wasn’t enough because he had been cheating on me the
entire time
we were together.

Charlie stopped walking and turned to me. “What say what?”

“I swear! Once I dumped him, people came out of the woodworks and told me that Danny had never been faithful and they were happy he got caught. I was so pissed that people who knew me, hung out with me, didn’t tell me what a fucking asshat he was! I felt so stupid.”

“Not you, Sweets. For starters, you are
incredible
in bed. Just sayin’. But, I do owe him,” Charlie said. “If he hadn’t broken you heart, you wouldn’t have come to New York, and we wouldn’t have met. It’s kinda like Darius Rucker’s song,
This.
Do you know who Darius Rucker is?

“I
love
him! My dad loved him as Hootie from Hootie and the Blowfish, but I
love
Darius Rucker!”

Conversation was never easier with Charlie before now. Everything was more natural feeling this time around. Like there were no walls.

W
e made it back to the lake around two, after having ambled through the fields just talking, and holding hands, and stopping frequently to kiss. It was a beautiful afternoon even if clouds had rolled in, and it was my last chunk of freedom before the proverbial shit hit the fan after I told my mother about the baby. But I was already feeling a little better about it, the whole adoption thing. I didn’t love the idea of being pregnant and getting the looks from everyone who didn’t matter, but to make another couple super happy—that seemed to make it better.

We washed our feet in the lake and sat chatting about any and everything. I opened up about my parents and their new divorce. He had a good laugh over the story of my walking in on my mom getting ‘serviced’ by Jack on his desk in his office.

“There is something about making love in a place where you could get caught, though,” Charlie said leaning into me and claiming my lips.

“We’ve already done it in public, though. Right here,” I replied, trying to catch my breath.

“Oh here? The other night?” he asked, then tutted me. “That doesn’t count. It was the middle of the night. No chance of being caught then.” He licked and nipped at my lower lip until I gave him the access he sought. Winning that battle, Charlie pushed me back onto the pier.

“You can’t be serious,” I questioned, pushing him back with every bit of strength I had.

He answered with kisses to my chin, then jaw and leading down to the sensitive skin at my neck and shoulder, while peeling my shirt up and exposing my pink bra.