"I had a sexy dream about you last night," I whisper, mock-scandalized, and Callum leans up a bit.
"Oh?" he raises an eyebrow, "What was it about?"
"Well," I start, smiling as I remember, tracing my fingers through his chest hair.
It wasn't one of those dreams that disappear as soon as you wake up, or fade like smoke—the harder you try to remember it, the faster it disappears. This one lingers in my brain, like it's permanent. Like it's a prophecy. "We were on a beach. Somewhere tropical. I was reading and sunbathing and you... You were coming out of the ocean, all gorgeous andJames Bond-like."
He grins at me, leaning back and looking a little smug. "And you came over to me, and we just started kissing, and I was considering jumping you right then and there. It was just... perfect," I sigh, meeting his eyes. "I was so sad to wake up. I had to—"
I cut myself off, my cheeks flushing, and I felt ridiculous. I literally just came all over this man's face, but it's embarrassing to admit that I masturbated to him this morning. I bury my face in his chest, and he chuckles, pulling me close and peppering my head with kisses.
"Baby," he coaxes me, and I shake my head, but I'm grinning against his chest. "I'm just glad I'm not alone with the wet dreams."
My head snaps up, a little surprised. "Really?"
"Since the first time we met, pretty much."
We share a smile at his admission, and I glance down at his tented jeans. "Can I?"
He smiles tenderly but shakes his head. "This was about you, sweet girl. I'm good."
I nod my head, a little disappointed, but also a little pleased at him wanting to care for me. "But... soon?"
"Whenever you want," he promises me, and I smile, thinkingabout me getting my hands on him next.
A yawn comes over me, and I'm hit with a wave of exhaustion, probably a combo of the wig try-on, the adrenaline rush from the confrontation with Elise, and the mindblowing orgasm he gave me. Callum grins, cupping my cheek. "You look tired, baby. Let's take a nap."
"Now that's an idea," I nod, standing up to use the bathroom. When I come back out, Callum has stripped off his jeans and is lifting the covers for us. Pulling on an old college t-shirt and a fresh pair of underwear, I crawl under the covers and into Callum's waiting arms. He kisses my head as I cuddle into his side, my leg thrown over his, my head on his chest, and I hear his strong, steady heartbeat. His large hand rubs up and down my back, soothing me to sleep.
"I hope we can make my dream come true," I murmur after a couple of minutes, feeling the sleep dragging me under.
"Maybe on our honeymoon," he mumbles, half-asleep and not even aware of what he said. It takes me a few moments before I even realize it, the way he says it is so natural, like it's a statement of fact.
My eyes snap open, and I lift my head to look at him. Callum's eyes are closed, his breathing deep and even as he sleeps.
Honeymoon, our honeymoon.
The images flash across my eyes—alive and healthy and cancer-free, a small wedding with our friends and family in attendance, me in a silky white dress, Callum looking handsome in a white dress shirt and pants, us being pronounced husband and wife. A casual backyard reception, slow dancing with Callum.
The future, not near, but not so distant.
I lay my head back down on his chest.
"Yeah," I sigh, smiling widely. "Our honeymoon."
Chapter Thirty-One
Paul
October
"I'm so proud of her."
My mom's voice catches my attention as I walk down the hallway. It's coming from the home office, so I slow down and peek in. My mom's sitting in the chair, and my dad is hovering next to her, both smiling at something on her laptop. My mom's eyes shimmer with tears, and my dad leans down to kiss the top of her head, his hand rubbing her shoulder in that quiet way he always used to comfort her.
My curiosity is burning inside of me, especially wondering—and knowing already—whosheis.
Sophie. It has to be about Sophie.
