Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Thankfully, moments like the one I’d experienced in the bridal shop today were rare. Overall, I’d done a good job of burying thoughts of Dorian. However, when those moments did arise, I sometimes found myself tempted to search for him online, something I’d forbidden myself to do to protect my mental health. Like all the other times, I let the urge pass tonight, not giving in, and once again ensuring that I stayed focused on my future, not the past.
CHAPTER 19
* * *
A few days later, I woke up in a sweat, my body buzzing from head to toe. This wasn’t the first sex dream I’d had involving Dorian. But it was the first one in a year—probably triggered by the incident at the bridal shop.
We’d been back at the mansion pool, and Dorian had done a body shot off of me. But unlike real life, this version had morphed into something altogether different. His head had been between my legs after he’d poured tequila over my clit, licking it off. My brain was incredibly cruel for creating these dream sequences when I’d been working so hard to block him from my mind. These vivid sexual dreams felt like setbacks, even if they shouldn’t have meant anything. Why couldn’t I have had these dreams about Casey, or literally anyone else in the world but Dorian Vanderbilt? Maybe because the more you try to bury things that remain unresolved, the more your subconscious works to bring them out. And there was nothing I’d tried to bury deeper than Dorian.
“Are you okay?” Casey asked.
Shit. “I’m okay,” I answered as I caught my breath.
“You were breathing heavily in your sleep. You should maybe get checked for sleep apnea.”
Trust me, that’s not the problem. “Was I?”
“Yeah. Moving around a lot, too. Your legs were wiggling.”
No surprise there. “I think I was just having a bad dream.” About my ex-boyfriend’s head between my legs.
“I’m sorry you had a nightmare.”
“Me, too. Thank you.” I sighed as I rolled over. “Maybe I should try…taping my mouth or something.”
Casey wrapped his arms around me from behind. As he held me, I felt both guilt and relief. Somewhere in my subconscious I was still lusting for Dorian Vanderbilt, but in reality, I had Casey, someone unlike Dorian whom I could trust and who truly loved me. Someone I was pretty sure would never leave me or our daughter.
And someone who most definitely deserved better than a woman who had more emotional baggage than he knew about.
***
Later that afternoon, I was feeling restless, so I called Lucy to see if she and her son, who was around Rosie’s age, were up for a playdate. Luckily, she, too, was feeling a bit bored today and encouraged us to come by.
Playdates were as much about mental sanity for the moms as they were socialization for the kids. I loved my daughter, but some days it felt impossible to come up with enough ways to entertain her while she wasn’t in preschool. When the weather outside was crappy, like it was today, that made it even harder.
A little while later, as Rosie and Sebastian played in the living room, Lucy and I sat with the coffees I’d picked up on the way here. The sun had finally come out and filtered through the window, casting a glow on Lucy’s blonde hair. It was amazing what a little patch of sunshine, good coffee, and pleasant company could do for one’s mood.
Then Lucy had to go and ruin it.
“Can we talk about what happened when we were dress shopping?” she asked.
My heart beat faster. I’d thought I’d dodged a bullet, but Lucy was more perceptive than I’d given her credit for.
“What do you mean?” I made one last attempt at playing dumb.
“I don’t know. Your mood took a pretty big turn. I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe you were having doubts about going through with the wedding…”
Ugh. “That wasn’t what the mood switch was about.”
Silence descended upon the room as she waited for me to elaborate.
“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she said.
But now I knew I couldn’t let it go. Burying it was clearly not working. I hadn’t spoken about Dorian to anyone, not even a therapist, which I probably should’ve done a long time ago. Lucy was my best friend. I’d lost touch with Janelle after moving from California, which I’d always regretted. I’d seen from social media that she was married now with a baby on the way. Thank goodness I’d found Lucy. She and I hadn’t known each other more than a few years, but it sometimes felt like we had. If I couldn’t talk to her, who could I talk to?
I sighed. “When you made a comment about the color of one of the dresses, it threw me into a bit of PTSD.”