Page 10 of Deceitful Dreams

A laugh barks out of my throat, and I shake my head. “Believe me. I wasn’t anyone’s crush in high school. I was a little chubby, had braces, and a really bad haircut.”

Her nose wrinkles. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“I’m sure my mom has photos of it, much to my dismay and continued efforts to burn the evidence.”

“And she’ll gladly show them off?” She laughs.

I groan, flicking drops from my fingertips at her. “She would be delighted if I brought a girl home. Probably show you all my baby photos.”

Sophie’s eyebrows dip. “Brought a girl home? You haven’t introduced my mom to them?”

My heart skips a beat, and I still when I realize what I let slip. Clearing my throat, I move to push away from the step. But her fingers slide into my hair, combing it away from my face. It feels good, and I don’t want to pull away from her touch, so I stay.

“Uhh. No. They don’t know I’m married. Like I said, your mother and I kind of got married under the influence of alcohol,” I say.

She frowns. “I think if I got married, I would want a big wedding. Like a show of flowers and a dress and a big party.” Her fingers pause and her frown deepens. “Though I guess I wouldn’t have anyone to walk me down the aisle.”

God, this girl. This beautiful, broken girl just wants to be loved, and I want to be the one to love her. The only person standing in the way is her mother. Mary seemed like a good time at first, but I can see the calculating, manipulative actions behind her eyes. The day after we got married, I called my family’s lawyer to ensure all my assets were locked up tight. I knew he was even looking into the annulment of the marriage altogether. At first, I just made the dumbass mistake of partying with the wrong people, but now I wonder if she was meant to lead me to Sophie.

The night Mary mentioned that her twenty-two-year-old daughter was driving across the country alone had fueled a rage inside me that I didn’t understand at the time. I couldn’t fathom letting my daughter drive alone like that, not after the multitude of criminal documentaries I’ve watched and the way women are targeted. I don’t even think my mother would let me drive alone simply because she would love to go on a road trip with me. That was the first time I looked at my supposed wife in disgust. How could someone be so cold, so careless to their own flesh and blood?

“You could always do an intimate ceremony,” I tell Sophie, thinking about how I would want to marry her. “A pretty flower arch in the sand, just a few chairs in front of it looking out at the ocean. You and your groom can walk down the aisle together, the start of your journey as a joined couple.”

Sophie’s eyes brighten. “I really like that idea.”

I smile. “Then that’s what you should do.”

She bites down on her plump bottom lip, her fingers pausing where they’re still combing back my hair. “What would you do if you could redo your wedding?”

My fingers dig into her hips, and I swallow. “I think I like the beach.”

A shaky breath escapes her throat, and her eyes drift to my mouth. I know what she’s thinking, it’s the same thing I want to do. When she starts to lean down, I push away from her.

“We can’t,” I mutter, hoping she can see how desperately I want it on my face.

Sophie blinks, as if not realizing I had pulled away from her so fast. Then her pouty mouth turns down. “I’m not crazy. I know you can feel this between us.”

“I’m married to your mom,” I state. A reminder of why nothing can happen between us.

She shakes her head. “But you want me.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want, Sophie.”

Her nostrils flare. “It matters to me.”

I exhale a sigh of frustration. “Then yes, I want you. But there’s nothing we can do about it, okay? This, whatever this is between us, can never happen.” At least not at this moment, but perhaps when I achieve what I want.

There’s no missing the smile that flirts on her lips, but she doesn’t say anything else. Instead, she pushes off the step and swims to the other side to get out of the pool without another glance in my direction. It leaves me in a weird limbo of confused feelings. I half-expected her to beg me. I’m not sure if I’m thankful or disappointed she didn’t.

Chapter Seven

Sophie

After we shower separately, much to my disappointment, we settle onto the bed with some pizza and browse through the TV channels. He puts more distance between us than usual. I half-expect him to go to the front desk and ask for a separate room. We had a good time in the pool before I ruined it by trying to kiss him. I want him for myself, and I know he wants me too. It doesn’t even seem like he cares about my mom too much, so I’m not sure why she matters.

“Sophie…” Wyatt says as he gets up, setting the box from our dinner onto the TV stand.

I straighten my shoulders, bracing for whatever bullshit he’s going to spew. He runs his hands through his tousled dark hair, the shirt he’s wearing flexing around his toned biceps. It pulls it up at the waist of his sweats, showing off a strip of skin.

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