“If you say so.” He let go of his shirt, his hand coming back to rest on her waist.
She began breathing faster as he stared into her eyes, as if he was reading into her soul.
If she didn’t know better, she might guess that a new spell had been cast, one that prevented her from looking away from him. It was impossible, even as he looked down at her lips.
The air between them felt heavy, and her heart felt as if it might beat out of her chest.
Beastie yipped as she came into the room, and the spell was broken.
Roan pulled away so quickly, she would have felt slighted, had she not also been afraid to stay close.
She couldn’t kiss Roan.
But she missed his arms around her.
“I see you’re working on my grandmother’s dress,” he said after a moment. “Does it fit you yet?”
“Not nearly as well as it did the other night,” Abigail said with a slight laugh. If only that part of the dream had stayed real.
Roan picked up the dress and held it out, assessing it. “Perhaps it would look better if you made it blue.”
“Do you have any idea how much that much dye would cost?” she asked. “Besides, I like the pink, and I love the way it looks. I just need to make it fit me.”
“I did tell you my grandmother was a hefty woman,” he said, his lips turning up in a smirk.
“You did,” she admitted. “But I’m making progress on it. I need to try it on again soon to see if these seams I’m sewing are working, or if I have to take them out and try again.”
“Do you need help?” he asked, then turned red. “I mean, over your other dress, if that would be helpful, or not.” He closed his eyes and heaved a deep breath. “I don’t know how dressmaking works. I’m going to go.”
He pressed the dress into her arms and hastily turned, but his feet were caught up in the extra skirt of the dress and he tripped. He fell, catching himself with one forearm before he squashed Beastie, who had come up behind him.
Beastie yelped, Roan hollered, and Abigail started laughing at the spectacle of it all. “I’m sorry,” she said as Roan glared up at her from the floor.
She set the dress down and reached out a hand to pull him up, but instead of letting her pull him up, Roan pulled her down next to him.
Abigail’s heart lurched as she fell, but Roan cushioned her fall, letting her land on his chest before immediately shoving her over to lie next to him, his arm under her head like a pillow.
They lay on the floor together, looking up at the ceiling, and Abigail couldn’t stop giggling.
“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment, “I don’t know why I’m laughing. I can’t stop.”
“You think it’s that funny that I nearly killed myself and Beastie?” Roan asked, looking over at her.
Their faces were so close, Abigail stopped breathing for a moment.
She’d never noticed how dark brown his eyes were.
“You didn’t almost die,” she managed to squeak out before Beastie pushed her head in between the two of them, licking Roan’s cheek.
“Ew, Beastie,” he said in disgust, pulling his arm out from under Abigail’s head and sitting up to push Beastie out of their faces.
Abigail also sat up, rearranging her skirts to make sure her legs were covered, and looked at Roan as Beastie plopped herself onto his lap.
“What am I going to do with you?” he asked Beastie, who simply grunted as she rearranged herself to get even more comfortable. “You’d think you would realize you’re bigger than me now. You’re not supposed to fit in my lap anymore.”
Roan rolled his eyes and leaned down to press his cheek to the top of Beastie’s honey-colored head, then began stroking her back. “It’s a good thing you’re a good dog,” he told her. Her tail thumped against the floor, and she lifted her head to attempt to lick his cheek.
This moment was everything Abigail had ever dreamed of but was never sure existed.
