Page 9 of If Only In Our Dreams

The moment he spotted me he relaxed a little, taking a few strides my way, his black combat boots thudding with every step. Right now, there wasn’t a thing about him that wasn’t on guard. He wore his clothing like it was armor, carefully picked so you couldn’t see the chinks.

The sleepy-soft cuddly man from the plane was notably missing.

If it hadn’t been the strangest, most surreal, most rewarding moment of my life I would’ve thought I had made it up.

Fortunately for both of us, I was a doctor and a father, which meant I’d grown pretty adept at reading body language over the years.

I saw right through that prickly exterior.

Robin was hiding, and I couldn’t blame him.

He was in uncharted waters.

I gestured for him to take a seat beside mine. While he’d been splashing his face, I’d settled at the gate across the hallway. We were in the middle of the airport so we’d have some walking to do to get to the pickup zone, but I figured we had time. Plus, it was a small airport.

Coincidentally, our rides were coming at the same time, which meant if this went well we could chat while we walked.

And if it didn’t…well, I’d already planned for that too.

I’d pretend I dropped something at our original gate and politely say my goodbyes to give him a head start so he’d never have to see me again.

I’d already apologized—which had been the original plan.

So I wasn’t sure what I wanted from this.

Only that…it had been a long time since I was simply excited to talk to someone else. And despite my best efforts, the butterflies were still rioting in my belly.

Robin sank into the seat that I’d indicated. He crossed his ankle, left over his right knee, closing himself off—a clear sign that while he was willing to chat he still hadn’t decided whether he could trust me or not.

I didn’t blame him.

So I pulled up my phone, cheeks hot, and offered it to him.

He accepted it, black polish flashing, his brow furrowed as he stared down at it, probably trying to figure out why the fuck I’d handed it to him.

“I took the liberty of gathering some proof,” I told him, ears burning as he scrolled through the photo album on my phone, expression pensive. “So that you would know that I am who I say I am.”

Robin scrolled past photos of me with my publisher. Photos of me signing at book conventions. Screenshots of a few contracts that had both my written name and my pen name upon them. I’d blacked out the confidential bits while I’d been waiting, and hoped that this was enough to set him at ease.

“Huh,” he said, handing me back my phone. His legs remained crossed. He scrubbed his ring finger over his eyebrow, humming thoughtfully, expression far away for a moment. “Youput this together?” He blinked, staring at me, eyes searching mine. “Just now?”

I nodded.

“Why?” Robin looked confused. “I mean, I believe you—”Oh, thank God.“But why go through all this trouble?” His cheeks flushed. “You like…a super fan or something? Not to be an asshole, but like…dude. That’s alotof work to put in for a stranger.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“You like my books,” I settled on, burning from the inside out. “It’s not often I…” God, I wasn’t sure how to say any of this. I felt like an idiot. I probably looked like one too. This wasn’t like me. I always knew exactly what to say.

I felt wrong-footed, tripping over myself to get him to like me.

He was so damn pretty it was distracting.

“You…” I tried again, annoyed when my hands began to shake a little. They hadn’t done that for years.

“Okay,” Robin said, ending my suffering. His legs uncrossed. The pensive expression on his face bled away, replaced instead by a sunny but wicked grin. “I’ll stop torturing you.”

I laughed—waytoo loud. My shoulders relaxed. I hadn’t realized I’d gotten that tense—fuck.

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