Page 21 of Dream Girl

I don’t want to regret somewhere down the road that I choose the route of complete isolation from her and torture myself by not holding what is most precious to me. I want to be able to look back ten years from now that I am a changed and stronger man than the coward all those years ago.

I won’t let my fear of hurting her stop me from touching her. I won’t be that man that regrets my own strength; this is the power that has hurt her in the past, and I want to utilize it to protect her from myself.

Being aware of my strength isn’t news to me, and I have always been cautious of my power when I’m with her, but this will serve as a reminder that Amelia is still here for me despite my messing up on my journey to bettering myself.

I can change. I want to change for her. I won’t be the same Miloslav from four years ago. I want to be Amelia’s Milo.

I’m the only one who can take the first step.

“I dreamed of you last night.”

Amelia’s head shoots up, eyes curious and wide while her arms hold under her chin to look at me. “Oh goodness, you fancy me that much that I appear in your dreams?”

“Quiet.” I glare down at her, rubbing the back of her messy hair.

Amelia has the wildest hair I have ever seen. She fights with her hairbrush every morning because her hair never wants to be tamed, and I swear she had broken multiple wide tooth combs.

“Continue, Sleeping Beauty.” She grins, innocent and her face becomes more youthful.

“You were eaten by a goat.”

I guess she wasn’t expecting that, but a wash of laughter vibrates from her smaller body. The tension on my spine leaves and I welcome the peacefulness of our Christmas morning.

Surprisingly, she hasn’t jumped out of bed to claim her presents yet. Her love for Christmas is debatable compared to other holidays because she loves them equally and I keep wondering where she gets enough space in her heart to love so many things.

Nevertheless, she loves a broken man with jagged edges.

“I stand by the fact that a Chupacabra will avenge me.”

Ah, yes. Her ridiculous response doesn’t deter me at all. I have grown used to her bizarre thoughts, and I have accumulated an unhealthy amount of pop culture references that I can be considered young in her eyes despite the difference between our ages.

“Is that so?”

“Of course, thou shalt not lose faith in mythological beings.”

The conviction on her face is too comical as I let out a small chuckle. Amelia is an adorable woman, too innocent and gullible that I want to lock her in this apartment to prevent outside influence mess with her head.

I have seen the best in people get corrupted by temptation and pressure, and given the right tactics, Amelia can be a victim of it too.

I will never let that happen.

“Santa is not real. It’s the figment of a childish ploy.”

She puffs out her pink cheeks. “Hush, Milo. You can’t offend Santa; he’s not going to come to our house with presents.”

Improbable and inaccurate, I set out to correct her with sternness. “It’s past midnight, and I brought those gifts.”

It is evident than I am losing it because I’m challenged by a mystical man who stuffs himself into chimneys and rides on a sled with flying reindeers.

“Must you suck the fun out of me, you goat-sucker,” she murmurs; her lips turn into a pout, and she huffs out the piece of hair in her face.

“If it means that I save you from embarrassing me, then yes.”

Amelia opens her little mouth and snaps her teeth at me, but those baby canines are too small to be threatening. It doesn’t help that she has no threatening traits in her, and her imitation of my stoic expression tends to look comical on her.

Her pretty face isn’t meant to be used as a canvas for a grumpy, brooding older man.

“My god, you are grouchy today. Do you want a hug, porcupine?”

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