“Shh,” he soothes. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
And he doesn’t. William holds me in his strong arms and silently comforts me until my tears dry and my breathing evens out.
When I’m feeling more myself, and embarrassed more about crying in the afterglow than I am that we were having public sex again, he lifts me down off the counter and begins picking up the books I didn’t even know fell off.
“I wanted to ask you about some built-in shelves,” he says.
“Why do you want to ask me about built-in shelves?” I ask, confused because I know nothing about carpentry.
He pulls out a rough sketch of what I recognize as the shop space we are in. The one we just defiled. “I was thinking that shelves along this wall,” he points behind the counter, “would be the best for large jars because they wouldn’t be in direct light.”
“Jars of what?” I venture.
But I know. I already know.
“Herbs and teas. That’s what you said this place was going to be, right?”
My heart blooms like a flower basking in the sunlight of his care. “You believe me? You believe my visions are real?”
“You were right about the counter.” He knocks on it and grins. “And the table in my kitchen. And the guest room in my house. If this place is going to be an herb shop, I may as well get it right now instead of trying to fix it later.”
“Well, um, yeah. I can’t say what the shop owner would want, but it’s best to keep the herbs out of the sunlight.”
He pushes the commerce book I purchased toward me. “Maybe the shop owner will think like you do. Would you want shelves on the other wall for products? Do you think you would make soaps and lotions or just sell the herbs for them?”
He doesn’t say it’s my shop, but he obviously thinks it will be. “I don’t know what they will want.” I’m scared to dream it. To think about it too hard.
“Why don’t you tell me what it looked like in your vision?”
“I don’t remember. Is there a bathroom in here? I need to get cleaned up.”
“Running, huh?”
“I don’t know what you mean. I’m a mess and I have to get back to the house and cook my boss his dinner.”
William takes my hand and kisses my fingers. “You can run, baby. I like the chase.”