Page 48 of If Only In Our Dreams

They both nodded.

Which…thank God.

I couldn’t handle any more egg-induced freakouts.

“How would you girls like to go shopping?” I asked them. They wavered, looking at each other for a moment before turning their attention back to me. Simultaneously they both shook their heads. “Okay, so no shopping.”

I did my best to let them pick what we did on our special days together. I worked enough that we didn’t get a lot of time together throughout the week, and because of that, these days were sacred.

I was, admittedly, a little disappointed.

But I pushed that feeling aside, turning back to Robin to tell him we’d go another time when Jane interrupted me, her little voice quiet. “Can Robin come get cocoa with us?” she asked, voice timid and higher than her sisters. “We always get cocoa after training.”

That was true.

He may not have trained with us today, but the fact the girls wanted him to come was frankly adorable. I glanced at Rosie, who also nodded. “He got hurt so he needs extra marshmallows.”

Any time one of them tripped during training that’s what I’d tell them. And the echo of my own words made my heart lurch.My sweet little angels.

“Of course,” I agreed, rising back to my full height and catching Robin’s gaze. “How would you like some cocoa, hmm?” I asked, reaching out to gently push a stray lock of his pale blond hair away from his forehead. “You look cold.”

And then, because I couldn’t help myself, my other hand slid down the lapel of his jacket, tugging on it pointedly as I glanced down at his very hard, very cold nipples. I released him just as fast, but the heat in his eyes haunted me. “Next time, wear the hoodie I lent you.”

It took him a second to get his head back on straight, which was…gratifying.

Robin licked his lips and nodded. “Yeah. I mean. Totally. Cocoa is good. Way good. Super good. Totally the best. Yep.”

“Okay.” I gave his ear a little tug before releasing him. “Time to clean up. And then we’ll go.”

Five minutes later, my bag was packed, the egg was cleared, and every one of our little entourage had piled into my van. Robin had done a double-take when he saw it, muttered something like, “Mom van? Holy shit, you cannot make this shit up,” and then climbed into the passenger seat.

I obviously had not been thinking because it didn’t even occur to me what CD was in the CD player as I flipped the ignition and Robin’s latest album began to blast.

Immediately, the girls perked up in their car seats, screaming along with every word as we pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the coffee shop across town. They had Belgian chocolate, which was my favorite. It tasted richer, and in my opinion, was far superior to Trent’s powder collection, or Paxton’s homemade variety.

We got our cocoa snobbery from our parents, though admittedly Mom and Dad had never been as bad as any of us kids were about it.

Robin’s eyes were wide as his music continued to play. He glanced at me, cracked an amused grin, then stared at the little girls in the rearview mirror. I turned down the music enough that he could speak because I could see the words ready to burst.

“You guys like this?” he asked, obviously excited.

The girls eyed him dubiously, then each other, obviously annoyed he’d interrupted their jam session.

“This is their favorite singer,” I told him, more than a little amused. After the first time they’d met it’d been abundantly clear to me that the twins did not recognize him. Which was fair, seeing as I don’t think they’d ever seen any of his music videos—there was way too much nudity for that—or his photos on his albums.

“Oh?” Robin’s voice squeaked. “Um. Wow. That’s…” He looked flabbergasted, which was fair. I don’t think he’d expected this. “That’s actually super cool.”

“It is,” I agreed, and then turned up the music again so the girls could unknowingly boost my little bird’s ego.

Belleville felt like a safe haven, and because of that, it had to be the weirdest place in the world. I could hardly believe my luck most days as I wandered down Main Street, totally unaccompanied, and the only comments and extra attention I got were Miles- or Ben-related.

No one seemed interested in who I was, and I was perfectly fine with that.

Sure, when I was younger I craved fame and the attention that came with it. But I was old enough now to realize that having everyone and their aunt know your name was a cage more than it was a cushion.

I’d been emotionally immature before. A kid in a candy store full of bad decisions covered in pretty wrappers. I hadn’t been ready to be serious about anything but running away. I’d had a lot of growing to do.

I wouldn’t have changed the way I’d done things. Because it was moving to L.A., and all the experiences that came with that, that had shaped me into who I was now.

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