Page 107 of Fated

“I’m always prepared, for anything.”

I nod. It’s true. Max’s childhood made him dislike surprises and taught him to be prepared for any inevitability so that surprises couldn’t knock him out.

I reach forward and pick a glossy strawberry from the top of the pile. I grasp the leafy top and then pull the fruit free. It’s sun-warmed, sweet and tart, and the flavor reminds me of the sweet, earthy mango at Sue’s, of the sun shining down on me as Aaron took my hand and pulled me to him and took my mouth. Cherry-bright and sweetly tart.

“I’ve been dreaming,” I say, licking the strawberry juice from my fingers.

“Of what? Goals? Plans?” Max spreads a bit of baguette through the soft, herby brie.

“No.” I smile. “I mean I’ve been dreaming. I’ve been having vivid dreams. As if ...” I wrinkle my forehead and stare out over the lake, the sun diving toward the water. “As if they’re real. And the people there are real.” I look over at Max and ask, “Have you ever had a dream like that?”

“I don’t remember my dreams.”

“Ever?”

He shakes his head and takes a long swallow of the wine, drinking from the bottle. “I used to. I’d have nightmares as a kid. Finally, I told myself, ‘You have to dream, but you don’t have to remember them.’ And after that I never remembered another one.”

I take the bottle of red wine from him and take a long swig. The cool red sweeps over my mouth, tasting of wild cherry and red currant. It’s uncomplicated and sweet. I hand Max the wine bottle and smile.

“Well, I have the opposite situation. I’m dreaming about an island every night, and it feels real. And there’s a man there.” I look over at Max and my cheeks burn under his gaze.

I take another bit of baguette and throw it into the water. The ducks, though, have left, and it sits on top of the water, until it finally sinks.

“And?” Max asks finally, after the bread has disappeared beneath the surface.

I shrug. “I’m falling for him.” I look over at Max, my skin prickling. “It sounds mad, I know. But I’m falling for a man in my dreams. I see him everywhere. In everything.”

I don’t want to look at Max. I’m almost scared to. But this is Max and I tell him everything. And he’s never judged me—not for anything. And I want his perspective.

“What do you think?” I ask, reaching for the bottle of wine.

I hold the cool neck of the bottle in my grip as Max considers my question. He isn’t laughing. He isn’t teasing. He’s taking it seriously.

Finally, he tilts his head, and my heart picks up speed because he’s come to a conclusion. “I think,” he says slowly, “that sometimes we dream what we wish we had in life. Or we dream what we’re afraid of in life. Dreaming something lets us live it without actually having to live it. If you can convince yourself you’ve fallen in love in a dream, then you won’t have to fall in love in real life. Perhaps you’re trying to protect yourself. Or perhaps you’re denying yourself what you really want.”

I consider his words. Let them settle over me. My mum said the watch would let me live my dreams, that I’d see what I wanted most. Max says we dream what we wish we had. Or what we’re afraid of.

Maybe they’re both right. What I’m most afraid of is also what I want the most.

“It feels real though,” I tell Max. “It feels ...” I touch my hand to my heart, settling my palm over the soft chiffon of my red dress. “I feel it, right here.”

He smiles then and his brown eyes grow dark. “Like the wind?” he asks with an ironic twist to his lips.

A surprised smile flashes across my mouth. He’s referring to when I asked how he knew he loved me and he said it was like the wind. He knew it was real even though he couldn’t see it.

“Yes,” I admit. “It feels just like the wind.”

“Hmm.” His eyes flicker over the water. The boats thunk against the dock, and across the lake a gull lets out a lone call, sailing on the wind toward land. “Which is it, do you think? Do you want love, or are you afraid of it?”

When Max looks at me, I feel as if his question is stripping me bare.

“Both,” I admit.

He nods.

“Are you upset?” I ask.

He shakes his head and looks over at me. “Not at all. If you can fall for a dream, you can fall for me.”

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