Page 74 of Ghosted
“Really?” I had asked. “You’re jealous of a celebrity when I have about a zero percent chance of ever seeing him in person?” I teased, poking him in the ribs when he started grumbling about it.
He looked at me and said, “Rae, I’mdead.You being with me should be impossible on pretty much every level, but here we are. I don’t put anything past you. I fully believe that if you wanted him and put your mind to it, you could figure it out. If you want it to happen, it happens.” I melted at that and resolved to stop undressing Keanu with my eyes—or at least be less obvious about it.
Now, he’s watching me finish eating the Vietnamese takeout I had delivered. I polish off my Bahn Mi (sans jalapeños) while we chat about the store and whether or not we’ll be able to make it once the rent increases.
“You know, you could move in here and rent out your apartment for extra income,” Dean says casually, gesturing around him.
I almost choke on my sandwich and sputter, “What?”
“You could live here,” he says more seriously, apparently warming to the idea. “Think about it. The rent would add a lot of extra income a month.”
“You’re missing the obvious,” I state flatly. Oh, to be so casual with money that you can’t fathom why someone won’t just move into your gigantic house.
“Which is?”
“Dean. I love that you are so giving, but I could not afford a mortgage on this house. There’s no fucking way. Didn’t I mention I don’t pay rent? Plus, I don’t have much expendable income right now.”
“It’s paid for,” he says, the tips of his ears going pink. When my mouth drops open, he elaborates, “I used the trust my grandpa left me, along with my savings. I didn’t want to pay a mortgage, so I got a decent deal by paying cash.” He shifts a little in his seat.
I open and close my mouth like a fish. I finally say, “So what, you’d just expect your parents to gift it to me since it’s technically theirs now?”
“Or they could ‘rent it’ to you and just charge the property tax and utilities. And even then, I’ll ask that the cash comes out of the money I left to them,” he says.
“Dean, I can’t. It’s too much.” I shake my head adamantly.
“Come on,” he cajoles. “I never got the chance to spoil you while I was alive. Let me do it now that I’m dead.”
“This is beyond spoiling,” I say, dropping my head in my hands.
“Just think about it, okay?” he asks.
I sigh, and I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this, but… “Okay. I’ll think about it.”
The grin that splits his face is positively giddy, and I feel myself smile in response. After I finish my dinner, he stands and holds out his hand to me. “Come with me? There’s something I’ve been wanting to do with you for a while,” he says with a tender look I can’t resist.
I take his hand and he guides me upstairs to his room. He pushes open the door and clicks on the lights, which are set to a dim glow. “Ah. Does the thing you want to do happen to involve getting naked?” I ask, looking pointedly south.
His laugh is bold and sweet, and I want to be wrapped in it for the rest of my life. It’s the most carefree I’ve heard him sound since he showed up in my living room, divested of his earthly body. “No. Well, that can happen later,” he clarifies. He suddenly looks embarrassed when he mumbles, “I wanted to ask you to dance.”
“To dance?” I ask, looking down at my sweats and oversized long-sleeve shirt.
“Yeah. But, we don’t have to,” he rushes out.
Before he can shut off the lights, I reach out a hand and grab his again. “Okay, let’s dance,” I say, not wanting him to feel embarrassed. I’d walk over hot coals for him if he asked nicely enough, so dancing is an easy yes. “I’m not much of a dancer, though,” I warn.
He squeezes my hand before letting go so he can hunt forthe right album. “It’s a good thing I can’t break a toe in this form then,” he teases, setting a record on his record player. He fiddles with it until “I, Carrion”by Hozier bathes the room in ethereal sound.
Dean reaches out to me and draws me close, placing my hand on his chest and the other around his neck. He covers my hand on his chest with his own, wrapping his other securely around my waist. I lean my head so my cheek presses over his heart and close my eyes as we sway. The music entwines around us, carrying my feet with it.
It’s not perfect. I stumble once or twice, Dean disappearing his feet just in time to avoid getting a toe smushed. But we laugh it off and continue swaying, turning in a gentle circle.
He holds me against him like something precious, and I feel a tear slip down my cheek. I’m not even sure why I’m crying. Maybe it’s the beauty of the song. Maybe it’s the tenderness of the moment. Or maybe it’s because whenever we have moments like this, it feels like I’m stealing a piece of him for myself. Like we’re existing in borrowed time, and I know one day it will catch up to us.
Dean notices my tears and presses me extra close. “I know listening to Hozier borders on a religious experience, but I get the sense that you’re not crying over Andrew,” he murmurs in my hair.
“I’m just pre-missing you,” I say into his chest.
He sighs, sending a wave of goosebumps from the crown of my head down my spine. “Yeah. Me too.” We continue to sway, holding on to each other like this can last, but knowing it’s more like holding on to sand cupped between our palms.
