The Dream - Whitney Dineen Page 0,31
she lied to her own son. I’m hurt.”
“Well, I’m full,” I tell him. Then I take the phone with me back to bed and crawl under the covers. I turn on the speaker and place it on the pillow next to me before closing my eyes.
“How was your day?” Davis asks, changing the subject. It’s almost like he’s lying in bed next to me. A delicious heat flows through me.
“My day was good. Your cousin Emmie came in to see your grandmother, and I had a nice talk with her.”
“What else?” he wants to know.
“One of my patients pinched my butt before telling me he wanted to take me to the drive-in.”
“What did you say to that?”
“I told him that as soon as he was feeling up to it, I’d be happy to take him.”
“Lucky dog,” Davis says. His comment fills me with pure joy.
“How was your day?” I bravely ask.
“Busy. Jessica came into my shop and ordered a bunch of stuff for one of her clients. She’s an interior designer,” he needlessly informs me.
I’m suddenly blindsided by feelings of jealousy. I somehow manage to reply, “That’s nice.” Although I don’t mean it. “Is she an old friend of yours?”
This would be the perfect time for him to come clean and say, “Don’t you remember her from high school? You must know that we dated.” But he doesn’t. Either he really doesn’t remember me, or he wants to perpetuate that image for some reason.
What he says is, “We were in school together our whole lives.” His tone makes it seem like they were never anything special to each other.
“She seemed pleasant,” I offer in the same way I’d declare, “I love getting a bikini wax,” or “Snails on ice cream is my favorite.”
Neither one of us says anything right away but the quiet isn’t awkward. I like having Davis to myself like this. I wish I could just fall asleep listening to him breathe next to me. He finally offers, “I guess I’d better let you go. You must be beat.”
“I am a little tired,” I tell him. “Thanks for calling.”
“Sure thing. I’ll pick you up on Sunday at the same time.”
“Sounds great.” I wonder how I’m going to go the whole week without seeing him. “Good night then.”
“Goodnight,” he says but he doesn’t hang up. I don’t either.
A couple of minutes later, I ask, “Are you still there?”
“Yup,” he answers.
“Why didn’t you hang up?”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I guess I dozed off for a minute,” I lie.
“Are you in bed?”
“I am. But before you ask me what I’m wearing, you should know it’s nothing too exciting. Just some old yoga pants and a t-shirt.” I don’t know why I said that. Probably because the mood seems to have shifted after neither one of us hung up like we said we were going to. It was almost like we were mutually, but silently, proclaiming an interest in each other—one that goes beyond me working for his family. I hope that’s true and not me being fanciful.
“You didn’t ask me what I was wearing,” he says.
“Do you want to tell me?”
“Depends. Do you want to know?” This flirtatious banter makes me feel like I climbed into a jacuzzi tub. My whole body is as limp as a cooked noodle. I’m hypnotically relaxed.
“Davis,” I say with blatant interest. “What are you wearing?”
“I have on a Winnie the Pooh onesie full-on with bear ears and a tail.”
I burst out laughing at the image. “You do not.”
“Okay, I don’t,” he concedes. “I’m lying in bed wearing boxer shorts.”
My mouth immediately fills with an excess of saliva—drool might be a more accurate description. “Nothing else?” I have no idea why I’m torturing myself like this, but I have to know.
“Nothing else.” His voice is raw and gravelly.
“Well …” I finally manage, “Don’t catch a chill.” Who am I, his grandmother?
“I won’t,” he assures me. “I guess we should hang up now.”
“On the count of three. One … two … three …”
“Sleep tight,” he says before I hear the beep alerting me that he broke the connection.
I close my eyes feeling like I’m seventeen all over again, full of hope and anticipation of what the future might bring.
Chapter Seventeen
March 19, 2008
Dear Molly,
Mom and Sammy went behind my back and got me a date for senior prom. Can you believe the nerve? I told them the only way I’d ever go was if I was as lucky as you were in Pretty in Pink and had my dream date