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Chad sighs and I feel bad because I know he has too much to handle at once. My being here certainly isn’t easing any of that for him.
“I will still need to work from home tomorrow,” he says. “Some of the staff in DC need help with a project so I will be on a video call most of the dayassumingthat the storm doesn’t interfere with the Wi-Fi signal. Sometimes it can be spotty in a storm.”
“You think that the storm is going to last into tomorrow too?” I ask. I had been assuming that by morning it would be over.
“Oh definitely. It’s not supposed to ease up until late Sunday night,” he says. “Sorry, but I think you might be stuck here with us all weekend.”
Obviously, there are much worse places to be than put up in this fancy house with my handsome boss and his lovely daughter. I had just hoped that I would be able to get back and see the shape of the cottage before starting back at work.
“As soon as the storm lets up, I can take you into downtown and get you what you need,” he offers when he sees the disappointment on my face. “I’m betting that most of the stuff in your cottage is ruined.”
“Thanks,” I say, feeling grateful but also disheartened. “But I can’t afford to buy new stuff. I’ll make do with what I have.”
“Well, not that you don’t make my shirt lookmuchbetter on you than it ever has on me,” he says in a playful tone. “But I do think you might need some other things to wear to work on Monday. Don’t worry about the cost, I’ll take care of it.”
I am momentarily speechless.
Chad looks like he suddenly realized the innuendo of his remark. He clears his throat, which sounds more like he is choking, and tries again.
“I just meant that you lookcomfortable, and that since we both know I have the financial means to help you, then I don’t mind doing it.”
“Thank you,” I say, still dwelling more on his comment in my mind than on his offer to buy me clothes. But he is my boss, and I don’t want to owe him anything. “I think I’ll be okay though. I have a bit of money saved up.”
I grab a quick glass of water and then head back out to go to bed, realizing that this awkward moment is only going to getmoreawkward the longer that we are in the same room together.
“Seraphine,” Chad says just as I am leaving. “We both know you don’t have a lot of money. I’m the one who signs your paychecks, remember? And I know that you are the kind of woman that is handy enough andstubbornenough to want to do everything yourself without accepting help. But I am telling you right now that when you are able to get back into your cottage, it’s going to be a hot mess. You’regoingto need help. And if you won’t take money from me, then at least let me help you try and do some of the needed repairs.”
“But I thought you didn’t want to help with that,” I say, remembering his very quick refusal when I asked him the first time we met as neighbors.
“I didn’t. But I’ve changed my mind. I’m pretty handy myself,” he cracks a small smile, and it makes me feel as if I am melting. I hope I don’tlooklike I am melting.
“Okay, thank you,” I say, wondering what made him have a change of heart. “I appreciate that.”
Chad nods and I leave the doorway and go back to the guest room to try and get some sleep.
There are at least a million thoughts racing through my head, but fatigue wins out over all of them. Between the not sleeping, the stress, and the emotional angst that I feel around Chad, I am completely wiped out. And as much as I do miss my little cottage, I have to admit that the luxurious bed and high thread count sheets here are divine. I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.
One might think that I would be too tired even to dream, but my subconscious has other plans apparently. Because not only do I dream—I dream about Chad.
It’s one of those dreams that feels so real that you truly believe you’re awake. There’s nothing elaborate in my dream, nothing fantastical or super steamy even. In fact, it is pretty boring as far as subconscious, lucid imagination goes.
I dream that I wake up from this bed and it is morning. I walk out into the kitchen where Chad wraps an arm around me and kisses me, and Lilly is practicing twirls and spins in the corner of the room. I walk over to the coffee pot and open a cabinet above it as if I instinctively know where the coffee is kept and begin to make a pot of coffee while I listen to Chad talk about “our” plans for the day.
There’s a small part of me that feels as if I am almost looking at myself from the outside in, but I shake that off and listen as Lilly laughs and talks about an upcoming recital. Chad tells her that we will be there “with bells on” and I don’t even stop to wonder why he has included me in his plans.
Then, after I pour us both coffee in travel mugs, we head to work together. But before we reach the office, I wake up.
When I wake up, it actuallyismorning. And I know that it was all just a dream because when I go out into the kitchen (this time with pants on), Chad doesn’t make any movement toward me at all, and Lilly is sitting in a chair with her crutches propped up against the table as she eats breakfast. The storm is still raging outside and there is one more day in the weekend before I head back to work and back to my cottage to assess the damage done. I don’t know what my dream was supposed to mean, and I know that it wasn’t at all mimicking reality in any way. But I find myself wishing that it was.
“Did you sleep well?” Chad asks as he hands me a cup of coffee.
“Yes,” I say. It’s not entirely a lie. I did get a few hours of deep sleep, minus the dream. “Did you?”
“Yeah,” he answers. But I can tell by the dark circles under his eyes and the way that he is chugging his coffee and reaching for a second cup before I’ve even started my first, that he isn’t being entirely honest either.
Chapter Eight
Chad
