That night, Daniel and I fall asleep with the windows open to let in that central-coast breeze.
While I sleep, I have a vivid dream. There are rolling green hills. Fog settling in. I hear the rush of water, again, like in my last dream. And then I see them—a herd of wild horses. Dappled gray and white. Brown with black manes. There are at least ten of them, and they are beautiful.
I’m drawn to them and as I get closer, the fog lifts. The sun illuminates them. I hold my hands out to touch them, but just as I get close enough their heads lift, their ears prick. A wind sweeps through the valley, and they start running.
I wake up with a start, my entire body scrambling for purchase. After a second, I realize I’m safe in bed with Daniel, his arm flung across my waist. The nightstand clock glows 3:14. I gingerly move Daniel’s arm off of me and go to the bathroom. After I flush the toilet, I look at myself in the mirror. I am so awake.
What the hell was that dream? It’s my second dream with ahorse in it. Both left me with a weird sense of disorientation and longing upon waking. I have to remind myself not to put too much stock in dreams.
I pull on some gray sweats then throw my coat on. Before I leave the hotel room, I grab my phone and room key.
It’s completely silent as I walk across the mist-shrouded grounds, no destination in mind. Then, the bright lights of the tennis court beckon me. The court is painted, delightfully, hot pink. I open the gate to enter, my footsteps echoing, then sit down at the baseline. After a few seconds, I can hear the sound of crickets and the mist thickens.
I think about the big family dinner ahead. How everyone will be there to grill Daniel, to initiate him into the family. After a decade of waiting for things to fall in place, everything feels sped-up—fast-forwarded to the future at supersonic speed.
But maybe that’s just how it is. That’s how it feels when everything is right. I can’t shake this slight panic, though. I remember how eager I was to find my fated by the time I turned forty and it feels like a billion miles away. The relationship suddenly feels like a runaway train.
A metallicclanginterrupts my thoughts and I startle when I turn to the gate. It’s Ellis.
My breath comes out in puffs in the cold night air. Of course he’s here.
“Hey,” I call out.
“Cassia?” he asks. “I thought that was you.” He has Pickle on a leash. “This guy had to pee,” he explains. Pickle yanks on his harness, yelping in excitement at seeing me, and Ellis unclips him.
Pickle makes a beeline for me, licking every exposed patch of skin—my face, my wrists, and peek of ankle. I give him pets around his scruff. “Hey, you weirdo.”
“What are you doing here?” Ellis asks, concern etched on his face. He’s wearing a light puffer jacket over pajama pants. Something about those pajama pants comforts me. How sexy could his night be in those pajama pants?
I have no claim to this relief and I bat it away. “I had a dream and couldn’t go back to sleep. And then I found this incredibly strange tennis court.”
Ellis looks around. “Yeah, this entire place is a trip. Perfect wedding spot for Max, though.”
“It’s like Disneyland for adults,” I say as Pickle decides to lie down next to me. I pet his soft fur, moving my hand slowly from his head to his tail. “A nice break from reality,” I say before I can stop myself.
Ellis joins me on the court, sitting down on the other side of Pickle. He looks straight ahead at the net when he asks, “Everything okay?” It comes out casually, but I can feel the effort behind it.
I look at him in profile. His mop of dark hair, his strong nose, his clean jawline. The bob of his Adam’s apple. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Great. I just—it’s our busiest season at work, especially with Gemma’s posts. It’s been a lot. But other than that, nothing to complain about.”
“Gotcha.” He’s quiet for a second, and still not looking at me. Then he puts a hand on Pickle, letting his hand rise and fall with Pickle’s little panty breaths. “You and Daniel seem good.”
The crickets are deafening and I let them fill in the space before I say, “Yeah. Things are good.”
“I’m glad.” And he sounds like he means it. “I’m sorry if I was kind of a jerk the last time we saw each other. I was just…processing in real time. But Daniel seems really happy. I like seeing him this way.”
A lump forms in my throat. “That’s…that’s really kind of you.”I think about their fondness for each other, that night at Joshua Tree when everyone at the firm teased them for their bromance.
This suddenly all feels really horrible. Because being with Daniel will always mean proximity to Ellis, too. And the part that is most confusing is whether or not I want Ellis to just…not be a part of my life.
Because here he is—finding me when I’m feeling lost. I remember what Daniel said about him—he’s a little psychic—and I wonder if there’s a warring between magics here. If his is pushing back against mine.
“I like all your coworkers,” I say, changing the subject slightly. “Rare to invite your entire company to your wedding.”
He laughs and the sound rings through the cold night air. “We are a big, dysfunctional family that can’t stop hanging out with each other.”
“As someone in the family business, I understand,” I say. “But it’s really nice to see. Everyone is great.”
“They are. And we’re all so happy for Max and Curtis. It’s been a torturous, dramatic courtship.” He proceeds to tell me about it—the family feuds, the long-distance years, the moment of infidelity.
