Only In Dreams (Stubborn Love Series) (24 page)

“If you did, then you would know I’m exactly where I want to be,” I reply softly.

Christian doesn’t answer; he looks at me, his eyes watery. “Paige—” his voice cracks.

“I’m done talking about this. And I’m done with you.”

“How can you be so cold? Are you trying to get back at me for hurting you all those years ago?”

“If you think I’m that petty, why would you even want to be with me?”

“I don’t think—” he starts, quickly wiping away a single tear that escaped down his cheek. I force myself to think about all the pain and hurt he has caused me, all the things that would make me angry, so that I don’t cry as well. I can’t let him see me cry.

“You’re the type of person who will always break promises, and I’m not about to allow my heart to be broken again. That’s why I need someone like Henry. He’ll never hurt me.”

He sighs. “So you want to be with him because he’s safe, not because you love him?”

I cross my arms, guarding myself, and then answer confidently, “Nothing is safe about giving yourself to another person forever. The fact that you can even stand there and say that shows how little you know about real love.”

“Enlighten me then.” He no longer sounds hurt. Instead, his frustration shows through.

“When I imagine life without Henry, it’s like imagining a world without oxygen.” I hear voices outside in the hallway; this needs to end immediately, before someone catches a glimpse of Christian and gets the wrong idea. “You need to leave. Now!”

My tone surprises him. He looks me in my eyes and says, “I guess it’s true. A guy like me only gets the girl in his dreams.”

When he walks out the door I turn and collapse into a chair, clutching the tattoo on my wrist. I just might take the chance. Weezer’s “Only In Dreams,” begins to play in my head as if on repeat. I grab the towel on the back of the chair next to me and press it to my face, comforting myself. It’s over, don’t cry for him, it’s finally over. He has to hate you after that.

THE GUESTS ARE seated, the music is playing, my dress is gathered and draped in all the right ways, and most importantly, Christian is nowhere to be found. Scooping up my bouquet of flowers, I make my way through the door where Emmie is beckoning me.

“You ready?” she asks me.

I nod and smile as she takes my arm and leads me over to Colin, who is waiting near the entrance of the sanctuary. Suddenly, I am struck with a terrible case of deja vu, my dream still haunting me from months ago.

I look into Colin’s eyes, then wish I hadn’t. I can tell he’s not happy, but I don’t expect him to be. I’m sure if he had his choice, I would be marrying his brother. But it’s not his choice, it’s mine, and I am confident this is exactly where I should be.

Colin feigns a smile. I know he won’t say anything to upset me, not this close to me walking down the aisle. Giving Emmie a hug, I reach out and take Colin’s arm, and we both watch as Emmie steps through the doors.

Colin looks down at me. “You look beautiful,” he says softly.

“Thank you,” I mutter.

“Paige,” he hesitates. I peer up at him.

“What is it?”

“Are you sure about this?”

I smile, press up on my tiptoes, and kissing Colin’s cheek, I say, “More than anything.” He doesn’t know about Henry, and he can’t know. I know he won’t be able to keep it a secret from Christian.

He doesn’t say anything else, only nods, and as the doors open the rest of the way, revealing us to the crowd that is waiting, we begin walking down the aisle, the guests rising to their feet.

I’m only a few steps down the ivory runner when I see Henry. He is standing at the end waiting for me. The moment his eyes connect with mine, I see an expression on his face that tells me I’m his perfect match and he’s mine.

Our eyes never shift from one another, I don’t see our guests, or notice the faces of my friends. It’s Henry and I, here in this moment, together. When we reach the end of the path and Colin hands me off to my soon-to-be-husband, I realize how intense my smile is. My face is hurting.

I watch his eyes shimmer, revealing the emotion flooding over him. It’s touching how moving this is for him, and I feel a flutter in my chest. My arm links with his as we turn and face the minister, who first greets the guests, then moves right into the ceremony. He speaks of timeless love and an unbroken circle. I try my best to concentrate on his words, but all I can think about is that I’m about to be Mrs. Henry Wallace.

Though I’m lost in the moment, the memory of that dream from months ago nags my thoughts. I swallow hard as the minister approaches the portion of the ceremony where he asks if anyone has any objections. Closing my eyes, I hold my breath and I wait. Each ticking second feels like an eternity.

And then it happens—the announcement is made, and it is official, Henry and I are husband and wife. I open my eyes wide, greeted by his smile. He leans in, first kissing me slowly, and softly, then suddenly without warning he grips my back, and dips me down low, pressing his lips firmly against mine. The crowd erupts with laughter and applause.

As he shifts me upright, I laugh, trying to make sure my appearance is not as disheveled as I feel. I’m pleasantly surprised by the sudden burst of energy and strength. “I love you.” He mouths the words over the noise of the crowd. I smile, gripping his hand with mine and pull it up to my mouth, planting a kiss on his fingertips.

Here we go, I think as we make our way down the aisle, so much uncertainty awaiting us.

WHEN WE ORIGINALLY planned our honeymoon we’d dreamt of taking weeks off to travel around the world together. It was supposed to be a time for us to celebrate our marriage, focus on one another, and enjoy the newfound intimacy and security of being a married couple. The cancer changed our plans. Plane tickets were exchanged, and we shortened our trip to a quick five days up to Henry’s family home in the Hamptons.

The doctors want to get him in for chemotherapy treatments as soon as possible, which means by next Friday we need to be back in New York, prepared to fight the battle of our lives. Even though Henry continually apologizes for the inconvenience, I actually am enjoying the last minute change in venue. Long walks on the beach, the sound of the ocean through our open windows at night, the cool breeze as it rolls in off the icy water. For him, these surroundings have always been a normal part of his life, but I rarely saw places like their summer home.

I open my eyes, deciding I had lain around in bed, pretending to be asleep, long enough. Much to my surprise, Henry is leaning over me, watching. “Good morning beautiful,” he sighs.

“What are you doing?” I ask, shoving him gently, a little startled.

“I’m waiting patiently so I can greet my wife with a kiss on our first morning as a married couple,” he tells me before delivering a devilish grin.

“Why Mr. Wallace, are you trying to put the moves on me?”

“Most certainly, Mrs. Wallace, is it working?”

“I don’t know, keep trying, and we’ll see.” I smile.

Henry laughs softly, leans in close, and grazes my lips with his. The previous night’s lovemaking flashes through my mind. Though Henry now tires much easier, his skills in the bedroom have not diminished with his illness. I couldn’t have imagined a more perfect wedding night, other than a groom who isn’t suffering from a brain tumor.

A brain tumor. My husband has a brain tumor. Even though I’d thought about it all the way to the house last night, I refuse to share my anxieties with Henry. There seems to be a lot of things I don’t speak to Henry about these days. I keep telling myself that when he’s well, I will be able to share more with him. However, right now, the last thing he needs is more stress.

Yet, no matter how many times I tell myself the secrecy is for his benefit, I am plagued by guilt. Like what happened between Christian and me. Telling him about what went on in Texas, or even that Christian tried to break up the wedding, will only serve to upset him, which is the last thing I want to do right now.

“Hello? Earth to Paige?” I hear Henry’s voice break through my thoughts.

“Huh?”

“What’s going on with you?”

I look at him, puzzled. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I delivered you a pretty damn good kiss, if I do say so myself. I’ve been nibbling at your neck in such a way I doubt I could even resist myself, and you’re just staring off into space. What are you thinking about in there?”

“I’m sorry,” I begin. “I guess I’m still waking up. Here, try some more, let’s see if you can get my attention.” I shove his head back against the line of my throat.

He convulses slightly with laughter. I feel his hot breath against my neck, sending a chill through my body. “Oh yeah, how’s this?” he asks, and then with wet, full lips begins pressing against my skin, tickling at my flesh and sending shivers down my spine. I arch my back in delight.

“Henry,” I whisper softly, pushing into the motion with which his body is now moving. I can feel the anticipation increasing between my legs.

Suddenly there’s a booming knock. Pulling away, I clutch the sheets to cover my bare breasts. “Is that someone at the door?”

Henry thinks about the question for a moment, and then bowing his head, moans, “Damn it, the chef.”

“What? Who?”

“I hired a chef to come prepare an incredible brunch for us,” he explains.

“Can you tell them to go away?” I ask, frustrated.

“I think that would be rude, don’t you?”

“As rude as not keeping your new wife sexually satisfied on her honeymoon?”

“Oh—now you’re just playing dirty. You stay here. I’ll let her in so she can get started, and I’ll be back in bed before you know it.” Henry explains.

I furrow my brow, confused by what he is suggesting. “You want to have sex while that poor girl is in there cooking for us?”

“Great plan, right?” He smirks. “By the time we get done, we’ll both be famished.

“Are you crazy?” I gasp. “Go let her in. We’ll wait and eat like civilized people, and then it’s back to bed.”

He grins at me. “You’re such a cock tease.”

“Is that right?” I laugh, sitting up and slipping on my robe.

Henry jumps into a pair of sweats, then over his shoulder confirms, “Yes, yes it is.”

“Mrs. Wallace, I’m going to ravage,” he promises and then is out of the room, off to answer the door. I feel a tingle spread through my lower half. He has probably called me Mrs. Wallace a couple dozen times since we exchanged our vows, and I can’t hear it enough. It literally makes my toes curl and my knees weak when he says it.

HENRY AND I have been having such a fantastic time on our honeymoon, I find myself forgetting just how sick he is. He’s no longer the man I left in New York when I headed to Texas. Often, the slightest thing, like an icy breeze picking up off the water, can cause his chest and bones to ache. Though he tries his best not to complain, I can see the pain on his face.

It feels like we just got here yesterday, but it’s already time to return to the city. I can see how much Henry loves it here, and I’d give anything to figure out a way to stay. To shut out New York, the doctors, and hospital visits, and stay here, in this moment together. The real world brings with it reminders of my mistake with Christian and of Henry’s sickness. At least here I’m able to pretend that life is perfect.