Page 40 of Dream with Me

Really? Can they keep their stomach from growling?

Troy chuckles, and I shoot him a dirty look with no real venom behind it. I notice he glances down at his watch and frowns.

“Did you miss dinner?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think it’d be a big deal. I have a sitter watching the kids for the next couple of hours and figured I could skip dinner for one night.” I pat my belly. “Won’t hurt me. Just didn’t think it would embarrass me at the library.”

Troy’s frown becomes even more pronounced. “You can’t skip meals, Shan, especially when you’re working your brain like this. And don’t put yourself down, even jokingly.” We’re almost to the circulation desk when he stops suddenly and turns to me. “How much more studying do you have? I made eggplant parmesan yesterday, and there’s a ton left over. If you want to come over, you can have a bite to eat, then you could come back here to finish. Or you could take some food home, or study at my house. I don’t care, and I won’t bother you.”

He’s rambling, biting at his lower lip. Is he nervous?

Troy makes the absolute best eggplant parmesan, but it’s probably not a good idea, no matter how much I want to go with him. Just then, my stomach lets out a second roar. This one is even louder than the first.

Troy smirks, and I can’t help but laugh a little.

”Are you sure? That’s a lot to ask of you. I could go to the diner and study. Clearly, I can’t stay here without getting something in my belly, though.”

Troy smiles and nods. “I’m sure. Some of it will go to waste if I don’t have somebody else to help finish it. I’ve not quite mastered cooking for one yet. Why don’t you pack up your stuff while I check these books out, and I’ll meet you at the front door so we can walk out?”

* * *

Less than fifteenminutes later I’m following Troy into his small rental, which is just outside of downtown Elladine. He flicks on the lights.

“You can put your bag in the other room and start studying if you want. I’ll heat the food.”

When I get to the combination living/dining room, two things stand out immediately. First, he has a new table. It’s not huge by any means—the space wouldn’t allow it—yet with the benches along each side and a chair at each end, it could seat six people. I stare at it, wondering if it was his intention to buy a table that could fit our whole family.

Or your family and another woman.

Where the heck didthatcome from? Yet I stare at the table, trying to force the visual of Troy, my kids, and a woman who isn’t me sitting together out of my mind.

The second thing I notice is the new cabinet-type thing I don’t remember seeing before. Because I’m nosy and curious, I pull on the handles to see what he has inside. That was a mistake because I didn’t anticipate it would open into a queen-size Murphy bed. The springs are quite reactive, and they escape my hands, hitting the floor with a loud thud.

“Crap,” I mutter to myself. I scramble to hurry and put it back together.

“It’s okay. Leave it.”

I’m embarrassed he caught me snooping, but it is what it is. I clear my throat.

“Sorry... Do you need any help in the kitchen?”

Troy shakes his head from side to side. “I was about to bring everything out when I heard the commotion.” There’s humor in Troy’s voice, and I can tell he’s holding back a smirk. “You could come and see what you want to drink, though.”

I follow him into the kitchen and notice he has a few beers, water, and my favorite wine. He must see me eyeing it because he says, “You can have wine if you want, Shan. Wine glasses are in the cupboard next to the stove.”

Troy picks up our plates and heads into the other room. After pulling the wine out of the fridge, I open the cupboard where the wine glasses are and try to reach them, but I can’t.

“I’ll get them.” I didn’t even hear him come back into the kitchen, but I definitely feel him when he’s behind me. He places one hand on my waist—a spot he’s touched thousands of times during our marriage—and reaches above me, pulling down the glasses.

I can’t focus on anything except the tingling of my skin under where his hand rests. I love how it feels, though I probably shouldn’t. He lingers for a moment after placing the glasses on the counter, then pulls his hand away too quickly.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “My fault...”

I ignore his apology, like I didn’t notice the feel of his hand on me after all this time or crave for him to put it back. I grab the glasses to rinse them. Troy opens the wine. It reminds me of our drink dates at home. On wine nights, I always got our mugs down while Troy opened the bottle.

When did we stop meeting for drinks? Maybe it was when I was pregnant with Chase, but surely it can’t be that long. Right?

As I ponder the question, I’m caught off guard by the engraving on the glasses. They read‘Susannah & David, October 11th.’That was only two weeks ago. Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “Did you go to a wedding?”

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