Page 126 of If Only In Our Dreams

“You’re so nice to me.” Robin’s voice was quiet, muffled. I was quiet for a moment as I finished getting his other foot free. Pressing my thumbs into his now-socked insole, I gently pushed till he groaned.

“Of course I’m nice to you,” I countered, the unspokenI love yousitting heavy in the air. It was hard not to say it. It’d been hard not to say it for weeks.

Which was kind of cosmically hilarious in a way.

I’d never loved anyone but my family and Trixie.

And yet here I was, so freshly into a new relationship, and I was ready to make all the declarations I’d never wanted to before.

I could distinctly remember a conversation I’d had with my dad when I was a kid. It was about the same age all the boys in my grade were discovering that girls weren’t so awful after all. And I’d been…confused. Because I didn’t feel anything like they felt, and I hadn’t wanted to pretend.

“You don’t need to be anything other than what you are,” my dad had said, laying a big warm hand on my shoulder and giving it a tight squeeze.

“But…” I’d trailed off, because even I had known that being different sometimes meant receiving attention that I didn’t want.

“Benjamin,” he’d cut me off, crouching to his knees, and talking to me like I was an adult. Like I was smart and this was important. Like he expected me to listen. His eyes had met mine, the same color as my own, his dark hair curling around his ears. “There’s always gonna be people that’ll make you feel like you gotta change so that you can fit in.” His hand squeezed again, so impossibly large and gentle. “And you’re gonna have to make a choice. Whether you’ll be the kind of man who is who he is—or the kind of man who is whotheywant him to be.”

I’d nodded seriously, and he cracked a smile, slow and sweet. “You’re smart,” he said gently. “Only one path leads to happiness. You’ll figure out which to pick.”

He’d released me then and waited for me to follow—and off we’d gone, finishing our work at the farm for that day. And the whole time, his words had rattled around inside my head. They’d felt like a splinter, stuck deep inside me as I ate dinner with all my brothers, quiet as a mouse.

Mama had asked me what was wrong, and Dad simply told her I was “thinking.”

He’d always been in my corner.

He’d always known what to say.

It wasn’t until I’d woken up the next morning, after a fitful night, that I decided that I knew what kind of man I was gonna be.

I’d made my choice at nine years old, and I’d stuck to it ever since.

I’d never pretended to be something I wasn’t.

Never minced words when I could’ve said the truth.

Never lied about my feelings, or lack thereof.

So holding back…holding back wasdifficult. It was a weight I wasn’t used to. A weight I’d never been equipped to carry. And yet…somehow, I managed. Because Robin deserved my patience. And I knew with just a little more time, just a little more loving, I could show him that the kind of man I’d decided all those years ago that I would be, was worth staying for.

ThatIwas worth it.

That he could run to me, rather than away.

And my arms would be open, always.

Just for him.

I don’t know why I expected Ben to start acting weird the second we were in L.A. Maybe it was the part of me that was still used to being disappointed. It didn’t take more than an hour for those fears to be put to rest, however, as Ben made a place for himself in my life as easily as I’d made a place for myself in his.

He was always there.

Always helping.

Taking care of me, chatting with Nancy, standing stoic and quiet in the back of the room while he let me do my work. He didn’t get in the way, and his lips were always twisted into a proud little smile. Like looking at me shine made him happy.

It’d been a long time since I enjoyed being watched, and I found myself melting into it now, as I stood on the temporary stage that the crew had constructed, running through the musical numbers that had been selected for me.

This was just the dress rehearsal. It was the only time we’d be running through everything before I returned for the partyon Christmas Eve. I already had an idea of how my home would be decorated—Nancy had a binder full of pictures that she and the event coordinator had decided on. There’d be a caterer with ridiculously tiny plates full of ridiculously expensive food. An open bar. A giant black and white Christmas tree that was tall enough to tap the ceiling.

---