Only In Dreams (Stubborn Love Series) (29 page)

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Authors: Wendy Owens

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“You know you shouldn’t be working this hard,” he comments.

“We open in a matter of days, so if I don’t work this hard, we’re not going to be ready.”

“That’s what I’m here for. You need to lean on me a little more,” he insists.

“That’s sweet, but you already built all of the furniture in this place by hand, and somehow managed to even find time to carve the clothing figures as well. I think you’ve done enough.”

“We’re a team, Mrs. Bennett,” Christian says, and from his words I can sense his smile.

“Is that right? Well then, Mr. Bennett, I’ve been here all day stocking, where have you been?” I tease.

Christian lifts his hands, and I worry he may not realize I am just kidding. He walks around to the front of me, and lowering to one knee, he places a hand on my perfectly round belly and says, “I’ve been working on a surprise for the three of you.”

“What?” I gasp, surprised by the news.

“Yup, and I think you’re going to love it.” Standing, he extends a hand in my direction. I rise to my feet, arching my back to support the cumbersome weight of our unborn twins. When I’m finally upright I stare at him for a moment, his eyes so full of happiness that my heart aches. It’s hard to explain, but when you were raised to feel like you deserve nothing in life, to have two men love you the way I have is quite overwhelming.

“All right lumberjack, where we headed?” Lumberjack is the name I’ve endearingly labeled my darling husband with. When we decided to open the clothing store in Bastrop, Christian declared he would not shave until opening day. I never realized just how sexy a full, bushy beard could be. I’ve come to love the way it tickles when he kisses my stomach, and now I don’t want him to part with it.

“You’ll see.” He knows I hate surprises, which is why he insists on springing them on me constantly. I follow him out the front door, and it clangs shut behind me. Waddling down the wooden steps, I stare curiously at Christian when he stops only a few feet from the front of the shop. I look around us, but see nothing.

“Okay, I give up, what’s the surprise?”

“Look up,” he replies with a smile.

I turned toward the store, looking up over the display window and gasp as I take in the most beautiful piece of art I’ve ever seem carved onto a hunk of redwood. There, in big scrolling letters are the words Henry and Ella’s, painted over with a soft blue and pink. Below that, in small script are the words Children’s Boutique, painted in white. The background of the sign is the natural wood, and all along the edges are intricate engravings of leaves and vines.

“Christian!” I exclaim.

“Okay, hear me out. We knew we were going with my mother’s name, Eleanor, for baby girl, but it seemed like we were having a hard time settling on a boy’s name since Colin and Emmie named baby Thomas after Dad. I’ve been thinking a lot about it, and I wouldn’t have you if it weren’t for him. Hell, we wouldn’t even have this shop; he found this building for you. It seems like it’s only right we name our son after Henry.”

My heart feels as though it might burst. I stand, staring at the sign, unable to speak.

“Okay, now I’m getting nervous, did I overstep? You hate it, don’t you?”

I shake my head no, leaning forward and wrapping my arms around my husband’s neck. “I think it’s absolutely perfect.”

“How’d she take it?” Colin shouts from the open gallery door across the street.

“She took it great!” I yell back, laughing.

Emmie emerges with Tommy in her arms and Olivia running out ahead of her. I watch as they cross, joining Christian and I in the street. This is it, here, all around me. This is what Henry meant. I was his family, and he wanted me to have the same thing after he was gone. He would always be a part of our lives.

Christian’s lips touch mine, and my heart aches as he confirms this is real. I sigh as I think about my life, and how sometimes things don’t always happen how we want them to or how we dream of them, but there is happiness out there for us if we’re willing to let it in. Love like this, heart aching happiness—it’s not only in dreams.

FIRST, THANK YOU to my readers. Without you, what I do would have no purpose. I also want to thank Sarah Hansen, the cover of
Only In Dreams
is better than anything I could have ever imagined.

One of the biggest thanks goes out to my editor, Madison Seidler. Your honest and tough feedback helped me turn this book into something I’m very proud of. Thanks as well to Chelsea for polishing up the final product.

A shout out to JT Formatting. This was our first book together, and you took a crazy situation on directly, delivering a beautiful book for my readers.

Sometimes being an indie author can make you feel like you’re on an island. Thanks to ladies like Samantha Young, Ella James, Amy Miles, and the countless others who take the time to lend advice or sometimes just an ear. Your provide power when I am running low.

To my husband, thank you doesn’t seem like enough. You work hard building your own business, but somehow always manage to find time to help me. Your support keeps me going, and I always know if I have a 2am meltdown, you will be there to hold me together. You’re a pretty darn good kisser too, so thanks for that.

For my three beautiful children, thank you for tolerating my schedule when deadlines are looming. Thank you for the unconditional love. And thank you for the endless inspiration you provide me with.

WENDY OWENS WAS raised in the small college town of Oxford, Ohio. After attending Miami University, Wendy went on to a career in the visual arts. After several years of creating and selling her own artwork, she gave her first love, writing, a try.

Wendy now happily spends her days writing—her loving dachshund, Piper, curled up at her feet. When she’s not writing, she can be found spending time with her tech geek husband and their three amazing kids, exploring the city she loves to call home: Cincinnati, OH.

YA PARANORMAL

The Guardians Series

CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE

Only In Dreams

For more info on Wendy’s novels visit:

http://wendy-owens.com
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