Page 29 of Wildest Dreams

He nods but says nothing. Right on time, the oven signals it’s preheated. He puts in the pizza and turns his attention back to me.

“I understand,” he says. “I wasn’t trying to imply anything or get ahead of myself. I had this image of us in my kitchen, laughing, having a good time, and I wanted to share it with you.”

I nod. “It’s okay. I’m trying to be realistic and protect myself. I like you. I really do. But if I’m going to have you here and let you dip into my life, I have to see this as a temporary, fun, short-term thing. You don’t live here. You occupy this entirely different world so foreign to me I can’t possibly imagine myself in it. And that’s okay. Let’s enjoy each other now and not talk about the future. Once you leave, that’s it.”

“I understand,” he says. We embrace again. “Why don’t we open the wine?”

“That’s a great idea,” I say. “Glasses are above the stove.”

He reaches up and pulls down the two wine glasses I have. One is hot pink and has “21” on it. The other is painted with my name and carnation pink polka dots.

“They were gifts from Patsy when I was in college,” I say. “I can’t bring myself to get rid of them, even if they are a little juvenile.” Honestly, they have more personality than anything in my apartment.

“I love them,” he says. “I want 21.”

“It’s all yours.”

I retrieve the wine opener from a box under the sink and hand it to him. He grabs the white wine from the fridge and opens each bottle, pouring red for himself and white for me.

He holds up his glass to toast. “To us. To friendship. And to fitting in as many kisses as we can while I’m here.”

I’m grinning ear to ear. “I like that.” Our glasses clink and we each take a sip.

I settle on the couch while Pierre walks around my apartment, looking at the few photos I have on display. He stops at one of me in pigtails, wearing a lavender and white seersucker dress, standing in front of a giant rose bush.

“Oh, this is too cute,” he says, picking it up.

“Yeah, that was in front of my parents’ house one Easter before church.”

“Do they still have that house?”

“No, they sold it when they retired to Florida. It broke my heart to say goodbye to that place. It was the perfect home to spend a childhood. My dad and grandpa planted the roses around the porch when I was a baby. A guy I went to high school with actually lives there now, and the roses are still there. I can’t smell roses without thinking of playing in the yard as a little kid.”

He smiles and puts the picture back. I turn on my Bluetooth speaker and Taylor Swift’s “Wildest Dreams” is the first song to play.

“Taylor Swift, huh?”

“I love her.”

“What’s your favorite Taylor song?”

“Oh goodness. That’s hard.” I bite my bottom lip and glance up to the ceiling. “Probably the extended ‘All Too Well.’ Though this one is a bit apropos.”

“That’s a good one! I’m partial to ‘Exile.’”

“I love that song! I didn’t take you to be a Swiftie.”

“I have this theory that everyone loves Taylor Swift, even if it’s in secret. She’s a great songwriter. I met her once.”

“No way!”

“Yeah, it was at a movie premiere. She’d done a song for the soundtrack and I had a film coming out with the same studio that year, so I had to make an appearance. She was sweet. We have some mutual friends. I’ve heard nothing but good things about her.”

“Wow,” I say, shaking my head. “Different worlds.”

“Let’s not talk about that anymore.” He takes my wine glass from me, puts both mine and his on the coffee table, then leans in to kiss me.

Our lips are locked until the oven timer goes off.

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