Page 22 of Restored Dreams

“American, I guess. I like the progress we’ve made, but we have so much more to learn.”

“Yes, we do,” she teases. “What about fatherhood? Was that on your list?”

I close my eyes, not really wanting to discuss Chopper with her. Fatherhood wasn’t ever officially on or off a list. It certainly wasn’t something I thought would happen in the manner in which it did. I can’t explain to her how I don’t regret him. I regret that night. The one when my son was conceived. Stupid, weak, drunken decision.

“I always knew I’d be a father, but I hadn’t given it much thought. I knew I’d want kids, but…” My voice drifts. But not in the way I did. I twist at the neck to look at her, expecting to lose her in the memory, but she isn’t judging me. She’s smiling weakly, looking down at me with something in her eyes. Another form of longing. She doesn’t have any children.

“He’s a great kid.” I can’t deny him even when he is a pain in the ass. This conversation makes me nervous, so I switch the tide. “What about you? What was on your bucket list?”

She waves dismissively. “Oh, my list is fulfilled. The bakery was the only thing on it.”

I raise a brow in question. That’s it? She mentioned love, marriage and babies, but I think better of digging deeper into why she doesn’t have those things. I also hate to notice I’m not on her list. Then again, why would I be a number in her life plan? I scratched myself off it.

The more I think about this, the more I don’t like the cop-out I’m giving myself.

Fucking win her back, my heart knocks on my inner chest. I notice the rain is a soft drizzle behind her. The sky lightens, and the sun breaks for a moment. I sit upright, startling her when I reach for my shorts. I stand quickly and hold out a hand for her.

“Trust me,” I say. Her blue eyes peer up at me, and a small grin curls her lips. Her hand slips into mine, and I tug her up, then lead her outside.

“What are you doing?” She giggles as our bare feet hit the damp wooden planks. A light rain kisses our skin as the sun seems to hover over only our section of the beach. A sun-shower of sorts.

“I’m dancing in the rain with you.” I wrap an arm around her lower back and link my other hand with hers. Holding our joined fingers pressed between our chests, I sway at the hips, encouraging her to follow me.

“Dancing in the rain.” Her voice lowers as she parrots me, but her face fills with sunshine. A wide smile graces her face as she tips her head back, letting the feathery drops caress her cheeks. Then her head lowers, and her eyes widen as she repeats on a whisper, “Dancing in the rain.”

Check one of the things she thought she’d do with another man. Sorry, Brad. He didn’t deserve her, and I’m glad it never happened with him. I want to be her first at something.

In my head, I make my first bucket list. She’s the only item on it.

16

Dining in

[Brut]

After three rounds of dancing, the sky darkens and opens up again. Lily squeals as we take the few steps back into the house. She’s drenched, and my wet T-shirt serves as a second skin. Damn, I like her in my clothes.

“I think I need a shower,” Lily says, and my lips curl.

“I’ll join you.”

Our time spent under warmer water is another game of discovery. We don’t have sex again, but we touch, caress, and massage, and when I can’t take it anymore, we simultaneously give each other hand jobs. Other than the handiwork I give myself, I haven’t had one like this since Lily gave them to me when she was nineteen. Just thinking of her eager fingers back then—hastily unbuckling my belt and slipping her fingers into my pants—makes me shake my head. Why did I ever hold her off?

I didn’t want to ruin her.

Not only was she younger than me, but I always felt as if I would not get where I wanted. I worked hard, but I didn’t want to make any commitments until I figured things out. The shop. School. I wanted more from life, but life asked more of me. When I made one futile mistake, I threw myself off course, and I always look back on that night as a sign—Lily was not meant to be mine.

However, she’s with me now.

Patting dry, she says, “I’ll meet you downstairs.” We showered in my room, which is nearly identical to hers, but her clothes remain in her bedroom. When she walks away, I have the strangest sense of loss. You’re being ridiculous, man. It will only ten minutes. Fifteen tops.

Downstairs, I flip on the television while I wait for her on the couch. The Dodgers are playing, and I’m a huge fan. Wonder if Lily would like to attend a game with me? That’s making plans, I remind myself, and we aren’t allowed to go there, but watching the game makes me think of Tommy Carrigan’s new wife, Edie. I met her at a small dinner to celebrate Hank and Midge’s wedding. She told me her son plays in the minor leagues in the Midwest, and he’s hoping to be called up someday. Lily already knows Midge from various occasions, including the cupcakes served at the dinner. Midge told Lily about this place. Does she also know Edie? Are they all friends? Would we all hang out together when Lily and I return? All questions lead to thoughts of the future, and suddenly, a self-imposed time limit on our sexcation makes me a little nauseous. I don’t really want us to end.

My ankle rests over a knee, and my foot shakes with anticipation. What’s taking so long? I wonder until I hear her behind me in the kitchen. I twist on the couch and watch her. My breath hitches for the millionth time at her beauty. She’s so natural. A smattering of freckles covers her cheeks from her fresh suntan. Her semi-wet hair kinks and curls. Her eyes shift up from whatever she’s doing, and she catches me observing her. I’m disappointed she hasn’t walked over to join me on the couch.

“I’ve missed you.” My voice is quiet, but the words carry to her, and I notice her blue eyes sparkle with my comment.

“It’s only been twelve minutes,” she teases, evidently misunderstanding me.