Page 16 of In All My Dreams

“You meanyourroom. Come on. I’ll help.”

He follows me into the guest room. There’s a different sort of tension between us as he closes the door behind him. I stand in the middle of the room, not knowing what to touch or how I can help. The room looks mostly put together, minus the shitty bed-making I did this morning. My eyes are drawn to the dresser sitting under the window. On it are books, a stethoscope, and men’s cologne. On the other side sits my purse and various items I threw up there last night.

This room looks like a room shared by a couple.

I expect him to start packing his things up, but instead, Ian walks in the room and sits at the end of the bed. He starts drumming his fingers against the small book he’s holding, looking down at it like it’s a bomb waiting to be detonated. Closing the distance between us, I sit next to him, our thighs almost touching.

“What’s that?” I ask him. It’s not a book I’ve seen before in the library.

He starts to hand it to me, then pulls the book away from my outstretched fingers just as quickly. “Okay, don’t get mad,” he pleads, avoiding eye contact with me as I stare at him. “I found it in your mom’s desk while I was working at it earlier today.”

“Okay . . . ?”

He shifts his body so he’s facing me, his knee brushing against my thigh. This time his eyes meet mine, and I can see the stress he’s hiding behind them. “It’s your mom’s diary.”

“What?” I snatch the small blue book out of his hand and flip to the first page. My heart constricts with emotion when I see herhandwriting on the first page, and the second, and the rest as I flip through it. Each entry starts with “Dear Georgia.”

I look down at the diary. Part of me wants Ian to leave so I can read every single word my mom thought was important enough to write down. Another part of me wants to throw it into the lake and wipe my hands of it forever. Who knows what kind of things she’s written in this?

“Did you read it?” I look up at him.

“I only read it long enough to realize that it belonged to your mom.”

“I need to ask you something, and I need you to tell me the truth,” I say after a minute of silence passes between us.

Ian straightens up, crossing his arms over his chest as he nods for me to continue.

“Why didn’t you want to tell Auden about Irene?” My voice comes out in a whisper. Finally speaking her name out loud with him feels like some sort of taboo subject after all the years we spent trying to keep her buried.

He lets out a breath, and his eyes widen in surprise. “Why would I want to, Georgia? I wouldn’t share that type of pain with a five-year-old, let alone with your daughter,” he hisses through his teeth, anger ringing clear in his voice as his eyes narrow at me. “Why the hell would you ask me that?”

I jump to my feet, tossing the diary onto the bed. “Because she asked me about her today, and she said you didn’t want to tell her. You can’t just keep ignoring that she existed, Ian,” I snap.

He reluctantly gets to his feet and walks toward the door to leave, his shoulders straining against his sweater. Much like he did when we would argue as teenagers. Ian doesn’t like confronting his feelings and opts to walk away before he says anything he’ll regret. Whereas I’m hot-blooded and let my emotions get the best of me when I’m upset like this.

“Wait.” I take a step to stop him, placing my hand on his arm as his back is turned to me. “Please. That wasn’t fair, and I’m sorry. Auden asking about her brought up all sorts of feelings for me. I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have thrown that at you.”

I feel his muscles tense under my touch before he reaches up and puts his hand over mine. Our fingers naturally intertwine as he turns to face me. His body inches toward mine slowly as our hands clasp each other tightly. That gravitational pull must affect him, too.

I’m dangerously close to letting go of what my brain keeps screaming at me.

Don’t let your heart take over, Georgia.

I lean in toward him, my body choosing not to listen to my heart or my brain this time, then he pulls away.

“Come on. Let’s go get a drink before we do anything you might regret in the morning.” He flashes a smile filled with regret down at me as his hand leaves mine.

I’m left standing in the middle of the room like an idiot as he stalks toward the door. I follow him on autopilot. I feel as though a glass of ice-cold water has been tossed in my face, sobering up the love-struck hormones of my youth.

I wouldn’t have regretted him.

Two bottles of wine later and I’m feeling incredibly relaxed. The edges of the world are muted to a nice haze as I stare at Ian. We’re sitting on the small yellow loveseat in the library; our bodies have a mind of their own as our limbs find ways totouch one another. He moves one way, my legs casually move with him.

This is dangerous territory for both of us, but if this is the last week I have with him, why shouldn’t I enjoy it? Will I regret letting him back in? I’ve never regretted being with him. Even after he ripped my heart out, I still couldn’t bring myself to regret him.

He gave me the greatest gift of my life: Auden. Even if he’ll never know that she’s his gift, too.

“Tell me something, G. Is there anyone special back home? I know you said Auden’s father isn’t in the picture, but I can’t help but wonder if there’s anyone else.” Ian’s eyes are slightly glassy, his cheeks flushed red by the alcohol. His lips part as he takes another drink of his wine, and I can’t force myself to look away as his throat bobs when he swallows. “You’re drooling a little bit,” he says into his glass as he smirks over at me.

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