Page 15 of Be My Reason

“Lyn, are you okay?” she asks.“We got a little carried away last night with all the drinks.” She puts a bottle of water on the night stand. “I thought you could use this.”

Still coming out of my haze I’m not sure if I’m relieved that it was a dream or disappointed thatit was.

What?No. Of course I’m relieved it was a dream. I would never cheat on Michael, especially not with someone who thinks he is God’s gift and goes through girls as quickly as most people go through a pack of gum.

Then I discover the horrid taste in my mouth. It is bad. Like something actually crawled in there and died.I silently thank God that there really is nobody in bed with to me to breathe in the nasty smell that must be coming from me right now. Then there is the slight pounding at my temples to top it off. I swear off drinking. Yes, yes, I know I’m fooling myself but I do it anyway.

I pull the sheet up over my mouth and tellEmma, “Thanks for the water. I’ll be fine. Go have fun at your conference and I’ll see you later.”

“I ordered breakfast if you can stomach it.Some toast and cereal, I figured you couldn’t do much more than that.” She twirls around in her floaty skirt that may be a few inches too short of professional and says, “How do I look?”

One thing I know about Emma is that she never asks anyone, not even her best friend, if she looks okay.I always thought it was because she was so confident, or maybe because she simply didn’t care what other people thought. Now I wonder if it was because she just didn’t have anyone interesting enough to care about looking good for. I’m not sure how to deal with this new side of Emma. I wonder if I should call her out on it or merely go with it and see what happens. I decide on the latter and say, “Emma, you look gorgeous and he will want to eat you for lunch.”

Her eyes widen and she doubles over in laughter.

I blush and say, “I didn’t mean. Um . . . I didn’t say that—”

“I know what you meant. God, you are adorable sometimes.” She turns to leave my room and shouts back on her way out, “Text me if you need anything. Bye!”

I practically chug the bottle of water she left for me and then I lie back on the lavender-scented hotel pillow and contemplate the dream I just had. It makes sense. I did just see Nate yesterday after all these years. I was bound to have some kind of subconscious reaction to him. The thing is, I swear I could feel him. I could feel the heat coming off him. I could feel his hands on me. It was so real.

I need to go for a run.Yes, that will help clear my head. I get out of bed and pad over to the en-suite bathroom. Looking in the mirror, I look like I feel. Death warmed over. I put my dark hair in a messy bun, splash water on my face and wash off last night’s mascara that now makes me look like the walking dead. I have two more glasses of water, brush my teeth and then head out to the living room for a light breakfast.

Feeling a little better after some toast, I throw on my running clothes, grab my pack andgo downstairs. I head out the back door of the hotel where there is supposed to be a nice running trail. It looks to be a beautiful day with a bit of a morning chill that will make for a good run. I sit down on a patch of grass to stretch out before heading off. I’m not always that great at remembering to stretch before my runs, but I figure with the damage I did to my body last night, I’d better not push my luck today.

After a few minutes I get up and strap my pack around my waist.It is a pack that Michael insists I wear whenever I go for a run. He personally put it together for me. It consists of a bandage, antiseptic wipes, an emergency contact card, a small bottle of water and of course my phone which also has my music. I can almost hear him say, ‘Don’t turn it up too loud or you won’t hear your surroundings. You can never be too safe’. That’s my Michael, always the caretaker.

I push the pack around to my backside and pick upthe pace as I think back to the first care package Michael ever gave me. It was two days after I met him in the ER.

“Delivery for a Miss Vaughn?” a teenage boy said, walking through the front door of the shop. He was carrying a gift bag with a Mylar balloon attached to it. The balloon had a picture of a large Band-Aid across it.

“That’s me,” I said, all excited to get a delivery that looked like it didn’t have anything to do with the bakery. I thanked the kid, letting him pick out a cupcake to take with him and sat down to remove the contents of the bag.

“What is it?” Kaitlyn came over to see what I had laid out on the table before me.

It was a care package complete with sanitizing wipes, new sterilized bandages, anti-bacterial gel, latex gloves, creamfor reducing the appearance of scars, and instructions on how to use all of the contents. But what really impressed me were the Band-Aids he included. They had pictures of little cupcakes on them. And when I turned over the paper with the instructions, on the back side was Doctor Michael’s name and cell phone number with the handwritten words . . . ‘House call included with care package. Please call to set up a time.’

I thought it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done and I took the leap and called him that very afternoon.

I find my stride as I run through thelovely grounds of the hotel and adjoining park. I admire the beautiful oak trees that line the trail. They make it seem like I’m running down a tunnel with streaks of light peeking through the heavy branches. As I make my way through the trail that winds all the way around the back of the convention center, I start to wonder ifheis in there. Is he pushing another tall, beautiful blonde or redhead up against the wall? How many of them has he handed his business card to? Most likely with his cell phone number and maybe even a hotel room number printed on the back. I wonder what he does with them. Is he gentle like he was with me or is he rough and dominant? Does he even take the time to get to know them like he did with me? Maybe that is his MO, he makes you think that you are the only girl for him and then once he has what he wants, he leaves you broken and tattered.

Snap out of it, Lyn. I reach around to my pack and turn up the music, hoping it will drown out these ridiculous thoughts. I pass by a few vendors selling coffee and pastries and the smell has me thinking about Brooklyn’s and how I hope that Kaitlyn is managing okay. I must remember to call her as soon as I get back, after her morning rush.

I’m lost in my thoughts, mentally going through the inventory I need to order when I get back on Friday when I spot him. At first, Isimply see a guy stretching out on the grass up ahead. Good looking, yes, but that body in those tight running shorts with a t-shirt slung over his shoulder makes me envy the grass he is sitting on just a little. Okay, a lot.

My heart is already beating quickly with the pace I’m keeping but I swear it increases to MachTwo when my eyes meet his and realization dawns that this is the very man that was in my dreams a short hour ago.

Oh God, don’t trip, don’t trip. It takes all my strength to keep my eyes front and center on the pavement in front of me and to run right past him without so much as a wave or tip of the chin.

What is he doing here? It takesa boatload of willpower not to turn around and look to see if he is behind me. I know that he is. I can feel it.Crap. What do I do? Should I stop running and lay into him . . . do I keep going as if I didn’t see him . . . do I act like it doesn’t bother me that he is here? What if he runs here every morning? He did say that the hotel has a great running trail so maybe this is just his beat. This is purely coincidence, nothing at all to do with me being here.

Just as I’veconvinced myself to do nothing and pretend he isn’t running behind me, looking at my ass jiggling all over kingdom come, I see out of the corner of my eye that he is coming up to run beside me. I can also see out of the corner of my eye that he has a huge smile on his smug little face.

This running trail is a pretty wide trail, about the size of a golf cart path, bigger than a regular sidewalk but smaller than a one lane road.And keeping with Running Etiquette 101, I must stay to the right side of the trail to allow oncoming runners their own space. I can’t very well distance myself from him without breaking this rule and I’m nothing if not a rule follower.

I slow down and he slows down with me.I increase my pace in hopes that he will get the hint but there he is right alongside me, step for freaking step. I keep this up for about a mile, but at the pace I’ve set I am getting a serious side stitch and I can’t keep going without the possibility of another public vomit session. I slow down to a walk and then head over to a large grassy area. I walk around in circles for a minute and then I succumb to my exhaustion and sit down on the damp grass. All the while he is just staring at me with a big grin.

“What?” I practically scream at him and he holds his hands up in defense. “Are you stalking me?Were you just going to wait here all day? Don’t you have a conference to go to?”

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