Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
It takes too long but then drags me under.
. . . piercing blue eyes . . .
. . . never have I ever . . .
. . . playing for keeps . . .
“Poppy?”
The feel of something grabbing me sends me scrambling toward the headboard and gasping for air. Sweating and with a thundering heart, I’m caught in the purgatory of sleep and reality as I stare into the eyes of my dreams.
“It’s okay,” Laird says. “You’re okay. You were dreaming.”
I blink a few times, tearing my gaze away from him to the sheets tangled under me. “Dreaming?” When I look back at him, I start breathing again.
Resettling closer to me, he cups my cheeks. “You called my name.”
“I did?”
“Yes. Bad dream?”
“I don’t remember it being bad.” The security of his hands gives me permission to close my eyes. “I remember feeling content.” Looking into his eyes again, I add, “Happy.”
“Well, if you’re going to be calling my name, I’m glad it’s in a happy context.” He slides his hands back to push the hair out of my face.
I release a long breath as I glance at the ocean, my throat dry, and my breathing still jagged. When I look at him, I say, “It felt real.”
“That’s how dreams work, baby.” His smile is so sincere that I melt a little.
I can’t let it go, with the visions still lingering on the edge of my mind and getting fuzzier as the seconds pass by. “What about memories?”
His back stiffens as his lips part, his hands back to his sides. Words are on the cusp of his tongue, but then he closes his mouth again. Shifting on the bed, he turns away from me but then looks back. “I would imagine they work much the same way. Were you dreaming or remembering?”
My heart reconciles a regular routine, and I lick my lips. “There used to be only one difference from what I could tell.” I move to sit next to him, my feet on firm ground again.
“What was that?” he asks as if our lives depend on the answer.
“You were in one and not the other.”
Hope rises like the sun in his eyes. “And now?”
“They’re becoming one and the same.”
27
Poppy
“What now?” The water’s colder than I’d like. It’s not tempting me to dive in, but it’s warm enough to dangle my feet in the pool.
“I go to a lab and get swabbed.” Laird sits forward on the lounger, watching me like a hawk. I’m not sure if he thinks I’m going to fly away or fall into the water. Whatever happens, he looks ready to save me, which is very endearing.
I lift my sunglasses to the top of my head and glance over my shoulder. “I meant with the child.”
“What do you mean?” His hands are clasped together, and he drags his tongue across his bottom lip several times. I’m not gifted the blue of his eyes since they’re hidden behind sunglasses, but I always have the sky.
“Are you going to connect with the mother? Do you know if the child is a boy or girl? A name? Age?”
“I think the age would be just under two.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I know when we had sex.” His eyes dart to mine, his expression holding annoyance in his pinched brow. He looks away from me toward the ocean. “I don’t know if we should talk—”
“Yeah, I’m thinking it’s best if we don’t.” We’re moving fast, so fast that we’re spiraling out of control. Or is that only my head spinning? I push off the coping and get to my feet. “This feels too big to invade such a personal matter before you’ve reckoned with it.”
His gaze returns, or I assume it has since he’s still wearing shades so black that the light can’t give me a peek. “There’s no reckoning, Poppy.”
“Bad word choice. Handle? Does that fit better?” Instead of focusing on me, I want him to have the freedom to figure out the next steps for him. I wasn’t expecting a fight?
It’s weird how you get used to something and start seeing things from a different perspective. How attractive this man is will never change, but I’d almost forgotten how big he is until he stands, and his shadow stretches to consume me. “I’m going to need you to fill me in here because I’m confused.” He finally tears his glasses from his face and asks, “Are you upset that I might have a child out there, or are you upset that I had sex with someone after you?”
“You mean before me.” If looks could kill, he’d be dead. If looks could incriminate, he’d be guilty. “Right?”
“Right. Before.”
The sun beats down on my shoulders, and the tension between us is thick. Feeling heated, I say, “I’m going inside.” I’m not sure if water can cool my temper, but it will help my thirst.