Only In Dreams (Stubborn Love Series) (5 page)

The idea of oversized, comfortable seats for a massively expensive upgrade fee had always seemed like a ridiculous concept to me. However, anyone who has been on one of those exhausting overseas flights would agree, an extra comfy seat can feel like a necessity after the fourth hour in the air.

By chance, Henry had the seat next to me. I didn’t notice him at first, honestly. I had spent so much time traveling I barely noticed anything those days. He was the one who struck up some small talk with me. He was terrible at it.

“Frequent flyer?” I laugh as I remember the words. Had he not been so handsome I might have even asked to change seats. We talked the entire flight home, and boy was I glad I didn’t move. The last time I could recall having such an intense connection with someone was when I met Emmie.

Henry ran an investment firm that had been his father’s. Most of the men I had dated weren’t very forthcoming with details about their lives. In fact, they didn’t really seem to care much about my life either. They liked to party, and they liked the idea of having a Paris runway model on their arm.

On that flight I found out Henry’s dad died when he was in his fifties from a massive heart attack and, as a result, he did his best to eat healthy and exercise regularly. His grandmother on his father’s side came from old money, and she hated his mother, who was nothing more than a gold digger in her eyes. His mother was madly in love with his father, and after he died, she quit eating and talking—she simply gave up on living.

I remember seeing tears in his eyes when he told me about his mom, but he never did cry. There was a sorrow behind them that made me ache for this stranger. She found out she had cancer, but refused any kind of treatment. He had been begging her to do something, but it was like she was ready to die. He was actually headed home after consulting a specialist in Europe when we met.

I’m glad we met when we did. I was still able to meet her, which I know meant a lot to Henry. She was a delicate woman, soft spoken, with a small stature. Her nearly white blonde hair always draped around over one shoulder, and her skin was pale and soft. It was a joy watching her with Henry. I could see he made her happy. I even tried to convince her once, for Henry, to get treatment.

She told me one day, I would love so deeply that the loneliness of being apart from that man would hurt so that nothing could fill the void. I didn’t tell her I had already experienced emptiness like that, a hole left by my first love, Christian. I just hoped lightning could strike twice.

And she was right. I found that thing I needed, the thing she was certain no longer existed for her in this world. Henry was who I needed to put Christian behind me.

I had shared things with Henry on that flight that I had never shared with anyone. I told him about my mother and how I was always competing for attention with the men she was dating. The only people in my life who had known about the drama between that woman and myself were Christian and Emmie. But here I was, within hours of meeting Henry, and I was spilling my entire life history with all of its dysfunction and misery. He never made me feel broken; he just listened.

He listened to everything I had to say. He wanted to hear about how I loved clothes—clothes that make you feel beautiful and sexy, while managing to let you feel comfortable. It was on that flight that I admitted I wanted to be a fashion designer, not a model. I wanted to make clothes that made people feel good. His response had been so simple. He asked me why I wasn’t doing that then, and I had no answer.

The night that plane landed he invited me to dinner, and I couldn’t imagine answering anything other than yes. I didn’t want our time together to end. We ended up talking at the restaurant until the waiters told us they were closing up. He wanted to know about Emmie and Colin, who at the time had recently gotten engaged. Six months later he was my date to the big event.

“Please return your seat to the upright position,” I hear the voice request to the left of me. With a huff, the portly and grumpy man next to me complies.

“Almost there,” I tell myself.

Henry had even made me feel comfortable enough to talk about Christian. I was a little worried that Christian was going to make a scene at Colin and Emmie’s wedding, but much to my surprise, he avoided me like the plague. I shouldn’t be shocked, considering how we left things.

Christian is the past, though; it’s been over four years since I walked out of our New York apartment. He didn’t come after me, he didn’t call me, and it was painfully clear I had cared for him much deeper than he ever cared for me. For a while Emmie would update me on where he was or what he was doing, but eventually that stopped. I didn’t want to know anymore.

“Can you believe this woman?” the man next to me grumbled in my direction. I flashed a half-smile and then looked back out the window. I’m not really sure what kind of crazy the man is, but I really want nothing to do with him.

I watch as the earth comes rocketing towards us, the plane rumbling as the landing gear descends. I’ve flown more than most people I’ve met, and still the landing unsettles me. Something doesn’t seem natural to me about falling from the air so quickly and colliding with the earth at those speeds.

Closing my eyes, I clench my fists, holding my breath and preparing myself for the touch down. Once contact is made, this somehow gives crazy man next to me the okay to try and start a conversation.

“Scared of flying or something?” he asks with a snort.

I shrug my shoulders, hoping he will take this response for how it is meant—a signal to shut up and leave me alone.

“It doesn’t bother me at all,” he informs me, clearly not getting the message.

He continues rambling about numerous things of which I care nothing about, including the fact that he has three cats who are probably making a mess of his apartment right now, because they can’t stand being away from him. Suddenly I feel very sad for these cats I have never met.

At last we are locked into the gate, and I begin counting down the moments until I will be out of this capsule with cat man and on my way to see Emmie and my honorary niece, Olivia, whom I affectionately refer to as my little Olive.

I wait patiently for the man next to me to gather his bags and stand up. As he does, a waterfall of crumbs and uneaten bits of food tumbles to the floor. He doesn’t seem to notice. Raising a hand to my mouth, I do my best not to vomit as the smell of onions fills the air.

“It was nice talking to you. Maybe I’ll see you around,” he says as he turns and makes his way down the aisle. It never ceases to amaze me how someone who doesn’t seem to bother with the most basic things in life, like bathing, would think I would have any interest in carrying on any kind of conversation. Yet, these characters always manage to seek me out.

I stand, brushing myself off and grabbing my purse, taking my time—at the annoyance of the passengers behind me—to ensure the creepy, smelly, cat guy gets some distance ahead of me. I sigh, relief washing over me that soon I’ll be back with Emmie.

WHEN I CLIMB into the taxi I never expect to get a history lesson from the driver. Apparently he is an expert of Bastrop and is thrilled to impart his knowledge during the thirty-minute ride there. With just over seven thousand residents, the little town apparently succeeds in having that small town feel, while remaining part of what’s considered Austin’s metropolitan area.

At times, I find myself wondering if the Bastrop tourism office might pay this guy for his dedicated praise of the town. He proceeds to inform me at one point that they even have a Wal-Mart. To which, of course, I answer, “Thank goodness, I can’t live without my Wal-Mart.” I think my sarcastic tone might have escaped the poor fellow.

Quite honestly, though, after all the fast-paced, pushy New York cabbies, it is kind of nice to have a guy that really enjoys his job, as well as the area where he lives. He even makes me promise to try the Roadhouse, a restaurant off State Highway 21 during my stay.

Emmie and Colin had decided, when they were expecting Olivia, they didn’t want to raise kids in the city. She wanted the small town Midwest feel she had grown up in as well as a strong art community so they could open a gallery. After extensive research, and a lot of visits to various towns, they settled on Bastrop.

It is hard to believe they have lived here for a little over a year now, and this is my first time visiting. They made such frequent trips back to New York in the beginning, as Colin was liquidating a lot of his properties, there never seemed a need for me to head south. Then came my apprenticeship in Paris, and before I knew it, I was back and living in a penthouse with Henry while Emmie had her family in Texas. Sometimes it feels like the entire world lay between us, and I miss her being just across the living room.

As we pull down the main strip I can hardly believe what I am seeing. It is like I’m on the set of a movie. I’ve seen places like this on television, but I suppose I never processed that they actually existed. Could it be? Places like Mayberry were out there? The street is quiet, with a handful of cars parked on either side.

“This is downtown?” I ask in disbelief.

“Sure is.”

We roll past one small building painted in a muted teal color, and across the stone building I read, ‘Chamber of Commerce.’ Just past that building the cab pulls into a parking spot. Opening the door, I step out and look around. On the far side of the street I see numerous galleries, antiques shops, a quaint bakery, a florist, even an old-fashioned looking drug store.

Turning and walking around to meet the cab driver, currently removing my bags from the trunk, I hand him the fare with a generous tip, thanking him for the information-packed ride. Throwing my travel bag over my shoulder, I roll the oversized suitcase behind me. When I come around the other side of the cab and see the small, beautifully carved sign that reads Bennett Family Art Gallery a smile emerges, covering my face from ear to ear. I am here. This is it. I am about to see Emmie, and she will bring the calm back into my life I have been missing.

To the left of the gallery is a picket fence leading to a courtyard, along with a wooden sign, similar to the one for Em’s gallery. It reads, Bennett Woodworking. I should have guessed Colin couldn’t slow down enough to just be a dad and run the gallery after being a property investor in New York. I am a little surprised, however, Em hadn’t told me about his latest venture.

I hear the driver pull away, and I pull my bags behind me, fumbling for the front door, finally grasping it with my partially free hand. I yank the door open, a service bell above me chimes, and that’s when it happens. I hear something I never expected to.

“Hey Christian,” a man shouts from across the street. Instinctively, I turn my head and look. He’s already looking at me as the man approaches him. He looks different than the last time I saw him, but it’s Christian. His shoulders seem broader; his hair is longer, the dark strands falling into his eyes. He has a few days worth of beard growth on his jaw line.

He begins talking to the man who had called out his name, constantly looking over at me as he does. I feel a pain in my chest and a fluttering in my stomach. I panic; I don’t know what to do. The taxi is gone—I can’t run—there’s nowhere to go.

“Paige?” I hear Emmie’s voice as she emerges from the back room.

I turn and look at my friend. Her hair is twisted up into a bun, and she’s wearing glasses, which I’ve never seen her in. Sweet Olivia is on her hip, no longer bald, no longer my Olive head. Tugging on the luggage, I push my way into the door. I don’t look back at him.

“Colin, Paige is here!” Emmie shouts. Colin rushes out from a hidden corridor and across the room, scooping me up into that big brother-like embrace I’d forgotten about. He has always looked out for me, even when I was a kid, and suddenly that same feeling comes back. My bags fall to the floor as I wrap my arms right back around him, squeezing as if he were about to slip away. It’s hard not to see Christian in him, but I do my best not to think about his brother. His brother who was right outside on the street, the last place he should be.

Colin sets me down, grabbing my bags as if they were empty. He carries them off out of sight, as I open my arms, wrapping them around my sweet Emmie and Olivia. “She’s so big!” I exclaim.

“Momma,” Olivia squeals in delight from the excitement in the room.

“Oh my God!” I gasp. “She sounds even cuter in person than over Skype.”

Emmie smiles and holds Olivia with one arm while wrapping her other around me. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” I reply, looking around the room, recognizing several works by my friend. “Oh, Em, this place is incredible. Your description doesn’t do it justice.”

Emmie nods, glancing at all she has accomplished over the past year. “We like it. We’re up to thirty consignment artists, and the list seems to be growing all the time. The online orders for my work keep Colin pretty busy with shipping.”

“Well, that and the woodworking, but why didn’t you tell me?” I inquire.