Chapter 27
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
WILD DREAMS
Ella
“Excuse me… can you tell how much I love you? — S
T he entrance to Rainbow Refuge has grand double doors leading into a charming two-story building painted in vibrant, rainbow-like colors, with white clouds adorning each corner. Flower boxes overflowing with yellow lilies hang beneath the windows, adding a touch of life to the facade. A colorful mural on one wall shows children dancing on clouds and reaching for the stars. It is cheerful and sweet, seemingly mirroring the shelter’s mission.
As I stand in front of the wooden doors, I can already feel the warmth emanating from within and hear the cheerful laughter of the kids inside. Looking down at the boxes in my hands, I smile, knowing that our visit today will not only brighten the children’s day but mine as well. There’s nothing quite like the joy of doing something good for those in need, and from the brief summary of the shelter’s mission online, it is clear that these kids deserve all the happiness and magic they can get.
Growing up in privilege can sometimes obscure the realities of the world. The truth is, there are more people struggling than those who are lucky, and that reality deeply saddens me.
Although I started helping those less fortunate out of guilt, I have come to view it as a true mission in my life. With so much joy and magic in my own life, why not share it with others? That’s why we’re here today—no cameras, no paparazzi, just us.
Beside me, Shaw stands tall and silent as ever, holding the balloons we picked up for the kids on our way here. It was his idea. For someone who considers himself grumpy and a recluse, he certainly has a big heart.
Eager to spend time with the kids, I start to climb the short stairs to the shelter’s entrance but stumble, missing a step. “Watch your step,” Shaw says quickly, grabbing my arm to steady me before I can trip. I find my balance and hug the cupcake boxes closer to my chest. “My hero,” I say with a sheepish smile.
He shakes his head with an amused smile and then opens the shelter door with his free hand, gesturing for me to enter first.
The first thing I notice upon entering is how sweet the air feels. The room is painted in the same bright, cheerful colors as the exterior, adorned with vibrant murals. Toys are scattered across the floor, and tables are piled with a variety of books.
As soon as we enter, we are met with a chorus of sweet, excited voices and eager, curious little faces. The small children quickly gather around us as we move further inside the room, their eyes wide with curiosity and anticipation. Some shyly peek from behind their caretakers, while others boldly approach with broad smiles.
“Balloons!” A little boy with red hair, dressed as a firefighter, shrieks with delight when he sees Shaw enter with colorful balloons in his hands.
“Oh, isn’t this wonderful, kids!” An older lady with a kind face and a blonde bob approaches us, her smile matching the children’s enthusiasm. “These kind folks have come to visit.” She extends her hand to me, which I gladly shake. “This is so generous of you both,” she whispers, beaming at both Shaw and me.
My heart swells with joy as they greet us so warmly.
“Thank you for opening your doors to us,” I reply truthfully. She looks at me for a moment longer than necessary, as if trying to place where she might have seen me before.
I lower my head slightly, then kneel to be at the kids’ level, my smile bright and welcoming. “Hi, everyone! You’re all so sweet!” I glance around, taking in the faces of kids of all ages.
They all look so innocent and so endearing.
“We brought some special treats for you today,” I announce, my voice filled with the same excitement as the kids’.
I watch as Shaw nods at the woman who appears to be in charge of the shelter before placing the boxes of cupcakes on a nearby table, the sweet aroma immediately filling the room.
When he returns to my side, I turn to the kids, who are looking at the box filled with cupcakes with wide eyes. “Want to hear a secret?”
They all nod their little heads eagerly.
With a wide smile, I say, “There,” gesturing to the cupcakes with a flourish, “are happy cupcakes. They’re sprinkled with magic dust that will make you smile and feel all warm inside as soon as you take that first bite.”
“Really?” The little firefighter looks doubtful, as if he isn’t sure he can trust me. My heart aches for him, realizing that something bad must have happened for such a young kid to be skeptical about magical cupcakes and good intentions.
“Oh, definitely.” I whisper softly, handing him a cupcake adorned with edible glitter stars. “These were made with love, so they have the power to make you smile if you just believe. Do you believe you can be happy, firefighter?”
Giggles and excited murmurs fill the air as the children eagerly gather around me, their eyes sparkling with wonder. The little boy takes the first bite of the cupcake, and I hold my breath, waiting for his reaction. Moments later, his face breaks into a broad, toothy grin, and he gives me a thumbs-up, his cheeks smeared with chocolate and pink frosting.
Smiling back, I begin handing out the cupcakes and cake pops, giving each child two or more treats with care. Some hesitate just a moment before taking a tentative bite, their faces lighting up with pure joy as they savor the sugary goodness.
“See? Magic!” I exclaim animatedly, my eyes wide and my smile beaming as I look at them.
Meanwhile, my bodyguard quietly distributes balloons and a few other things we picked up on our way here. Coloring books, crayons, and small toys bring excited squeals and heartfelt “thank yous” from the children.
Their joyful faces are exactly why I choose to do this.
A cute little girl with black pigtails and a shy demeanor approaches us, holding her cupcake with both hands. “Are they really magical cupcakes?” she whispers, sounding doubtful.
I wink playfully and respond with a bright smile, “Absolutely. As soon as you take a bite, you’ll start feeling the magic, baby girl, and you’ll be extra happy.”
The girl nods eagerly, taking a big bite of her cupcake and giggling as she chews happily. The other children follow her lead, their faces glowing with joy and their eyes sparkling with excitement.
I then feel a gentle tug on my jean skirt and look down to find a little boy, around six or seven years old, standing there. “Hey sweetie. Would you like another cupcake?” I ask, offering him the last one from the box.
The boy reaches out his tiny hand, and I place the cupcake in it. He quickly stuffs it into his mouth, reminding me of myself when I was younger. “Miss Carly loves you,” the little boy mumbles with his mouth full.
Frowning, I ask, “What do you mean?”
“You’re on her phone,” the boy explains. “She loves seeing you on the phone and all the pretty pictures you take.”
It dawns on me that a little kid has recognized me. Worried that he might blow my cover, I crouch down to his level. “What’s your name, honey?”
“Noah,” he replies, tilting his head and looking at me suspiciously. “Why?”
“Noah is an epic name for a boy,” I say with a wink. “My favorite book hero is named Noah.”
“Is he a superhero?” Noah asks, his eyes bright with curiosity.
“To his girl, he certainly is,” I reply, not mentioning that my Noah is a super-hot fictional dude.
“Cool,” he says, giving me a thumbs-up.
I quickly change the topic, not wanting the little boy to out me to the grownups here. It works, and I don’t have to ask him to keep my identity a secret. I hand Noah two more cupcakes and a rocket toy, and he leaves with a squeal of delight and a beaming smile.
“I think that kid hustled you,” Shaw says with a chuckle, holding a single balloon after handing the rest to the kids.
I look over to where Noah is, covered in chocolate and happily playing with his rocket after devouring six cupcakes.
Standing up straight, I turn to face Shaw. His brown eyes sparkle with amusement as he looks down at me.
Settle down, heart. He’s here now.
I take the remaining pink balloon from Shaw and tease, “He looks like trouble—the good kind of trouble.” I whisper, noticing how much Noah reminds me of Shaw, not just in appearance but in his smart demeanor and mischievous smile.
Shaw smiles down at me, and my heart skips a beat. He then glances over my shoulder. “I think we missed one.” He picks up a stuffed bear from the pile of toys on top of the table and hands it to me.
Frowning, I turn to where the kids are gathered, playing and coloring. My attention is drawn to a little girl with blonde hair and bright eyes, who seems both shy and curious.
She looks so sad and alone.
Leaving Shaw’s side, I walk towards the girl with the balloon, stuffed bear, and cupcake in hand.
“Hi there, sweetie,” I say softly, smiling warmly at her. She responds with a shy smile, revealing a hint of dimples on her cheeks. Those dimples remind me so much of the silent man at my back.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
She looks at me for a minute before finally replying, “Cleo.”
“Here you go, Cleo.” I hand her the stuffed bear and balloon, which she takes hesitantly. “Would you like a magical cupcake?”
She shakes her head.
“Don’t you like cupcakes?” I ask.
She nods.
“Then why won’t you take it?” I ask, puzzled.
“I don’t believe in magic,” she whispers sadly, making my heart ache.
It’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. I understand that these children might not have experienced much joy and could find it hard to believe in magic, but with a little love and understanding, perhaps one day they might.
“One day you will, sweetheart,” I promise. “One day you’ll wake up surrounded by only love and magic.” I say, sounding sad myself but masking it with enthusiasm.
Cleo tugs at the string of the balloon, seeming deep in thought.
“Do you believe?” she asks softly.
I nod. “I do.”
“Why?”
“Because life is more fun when you believe anything is possible,” I explain. I offer her the cupcake again. “And want to know more?”
She nods.
“Just the fact that your heart is beating is reason enough to believe in magic. Your very existence on this planet is pure magic, and so are you.”
She considers my words, hesitating for a moment before taking the cupcake from my hands.
“Thank you,” she smiles so prettily.
“You’re very welcome, Cleo.”
She quietly leaves my side and settles at a table near the window, placing the stuffed bear on the seat next to her. I watch her for a moment and silently wish that this girl will have only happy days from now on.
I turn slightly towards Shaw, who is still watching Cleo with a furrowed brow, and let my expression soften.
“Shaw,” I begin gently, my voice carrying a hint of longing, “do you ever see yourself with kids?”
He takes his eyes off Cleo and looks at me. He pauses, furrowing his brow as he considers the question. After a moment, his gaze returns to Cleo. “No,” he says quietly, his tone serious.
Crack.
I feel a pang of disappointment and sadness, though I try to hide it with a smile. He doesn’t want kids, while I do.
Since I was a little girl, I have dreamed of one day having the kind of love and bond I share with my parents. I have dreamed of a family of my own.
I know we haven’t defined what we are or where we’re headed, but I had hoped we were moving in the same direction.
Not sure how to respond to his revelation, I nod softly and turn back to the children, continuing to hand out cupcakes and treats as if my heart isn’t aching. I let the kids' happiness help me push aside the momentary disappointment.
Throughout the rest of our time at the shelter, I remain my usual cheerful self, engaging with the kids, laughing at their silly antics, and joining in their games. Inside, though, my thoughts are conflicted, and my heart feels heavy as I grapple with the realization of our differing wants and dreams for the future.
When it’s time to go, the children gather around us for one last hug, their small arms wrapping around Shaw and me in a heartwarming embrace. As we say our goodbyes, promises of returning soon linger in the air, leaving behind a room filled with the magic of kindness and love.
As we leave the children’s shelter, our hands empty after leaving all the goodies for the kids, my heart still feels heavy with the knowledge that Shaw doesn’t want kids. However, I shove that feeling aside and decide not to let it spoil my mood or the day with him.
He still mourns his mother, and perhaps his reluctance to have kids is connected to that. As Shaw and I round his truck, he opens the passenger door for me and asks, “You hungry, cupcake?”
“Starving!” I exclaim, reaching for his hand to climb into his truck. “I’m in the mood for—” My words are cut short when I spot something that makes me squeal with joy. No way.
“A bookmobile, Shaw! A bookmobile.” I gasp, releasing his hand and hopping back down.
Across the street, parked by the curb, is a pink Volkswagen bookmobile. The cute van is decked out with vibrant, oversized book covers, whimsical illustrations of stories leaping off the pages, pink flowers, and twinkling white fairy lights.
Stepping away with Shaw, I move closer to the van and laugh when I see the license plate. The glittery plate is customized to read “BOOKME,” and the side windows are lined with shelves holding neatly arranged books, their spines shimmering in the glow of the fairy lights.
“Shaw…” I whisper, captivated by the beauty before me.
“Yes, princess?” he responds from behind, his voice laced with a hint of humor.
The sun is setting, and the sky is moments away from turning to night, giving way to the moon and stars. I tear my gaze from the bookmobile and glance over my shoulder to find Shaw standing close behind me, his eyes full of that tenderness that makes butterflies dance in my stomach. I realize that not even the pretty pink mobile of my dreams can rival the beauty of the man of my dreams.
Shaw looks both handsome and strong. He has spent the entire day helping me prepare for our visit to the shelter, assisted with the kids, and now he is here with me. He must be tired and hungry, yet he hasn’t complained once, simply standing by my side.
“Is this town for real?” I ask breathlessly.
His expression softens. “Yeah, darlin’, it is.”
“It’s perfect,” I beam at him.
“I’m sure you’ve been to more beautiful places.”
I shake my head firmly. “Nothing compares to this place. This feeling in my heart.” I lock eyes with him. “You.”
“Ella…” he whispers, his eyes soft.
I shrug and turn my attention back to the pink van. “You don’t have to say you feel the same. I already know.”
I reach out and lightly touch the spines of the books with my fingertips.
Just when I think he won’t say anything more, as is often his way, he surprises me.
“How do you know?” Shaw’s voice is husky.
I shrug again. “You look at me the way my father looks at my mom,” I whisper, taking a leap of faith and hoping my bluntness won’t drive him away.
“And how does your father look at your mom?”
“Like she’s the stars, the moon, and every galaxy to him.”
He stays quiet; the only sound is that of distant cars and the wind rustling.
I take a deep breath and focus on the books in front of me. Books, like cupcakes, are always a good idea—the solution to everything, in my humble opinion.
I spot a few books I’ve already read and some that are on my “To Be Read” list. Then my eyes land on a black and green book that my Aunt Kadra has read about a dozen times since it was released: Venomous Bonds by A.A. Turner.
Nobody knows the true identity of the author except their family and my Aunt Kadra. When I was younger, I overheard her talking to someone on the phone about this same book. She told the person on the other line that she couldn’t be prouder of them, and ever since I was a kid, I remember my Aunt buying more than one copy of every book the author has published.
The author is someone close to my aunt, but she will never reveal his or her identity. I think I might know who it is.
My attention shifts to a book next to it, with an illustrated cover featuring a grumpy businessman and a curvy girl with long blue hair dressed as a scientist, who looks up at him with a shy smile and flushed cheeks.
I let out a surprised shriek. How did I forget this book was coming out this month? I’d set an alarm and everything, but with everything that has happened, it must have slipped my mind.
I pick up the book and hug it close to my heart. Not only is it written by one of my and Aunt Mila’s favorite authors, but it’s also by the girl who haunted my cousin Azariel’s library. The Blueprint by Poe James.
It is an enemies-to-lovers romantic comedy between a multimillionaire and a quirky scientist.
My excitement is palpable as I clutch the book to my chest, my eyes no doubt sparkling with joy. “I’ve been dying to read this, Shaw,” I exclaim, turning to him as I bounce on my feet. “It’s finally out! Oh, my God.” I breathe out. I’d completely forgotten about it.
Shaw’s lips tuck up in a smile as he looks down at me. “That’s wonderful, darlin’,” he replies, genuinely pleased to see me happy.
It’s clear that Shaw is not a man who reads romance or smut, yet he’s never once made me feel bad about my taste in literature. Even now, despite not knowing the author or what the hell I’m talking about, he still smiles at me. Once, he seemed almost lifeless, and now look at him.
“Can you take a picture of me holding the book?” I ask eagerly, already positioning myself next to the dreamy bookmobile. My cheeks are flushed with excitement, and my hair is blowing in the wind.
“Yeah,” he chuckles, pulling out his phone and framing me within the lens. Happy as can be, I strike a pose, the book in one hand and my other hand gently resting on the car’s handle. The fairy lights cast a soft glow around me, adding to the magical atmosphere of the moment.
“Smile wide, moonshine,” he teases.
Laughing, I do.
After snapping the perfect shot, he tucks his phone back into his pocket and joins me by the bookmobile. I have always wanted to find one of these bookmobiles but never had luck. I have read online that readers can either buy the books or trade one of their own for one in the car. But I don’t see the owner anywhere, which seems odd—who would leave it unattended, risking theft of it and the books?
“It’s a charity.”
“What?” I ask, my thoughts interrupted by Shaw.
He nods toward the van. “Penny Cooper owns it and the bookstore in town. She sells books in her bookstore, but this bookmobile is for readers who can’t always afford to buy books from her store.”
“Isn’t she losing business by doing that?” I frown, confused by it all.
He shrugs. “I suppose she’s gaining something else.”
“What’s that?”
“The satisfaction of getting books into the hands of people who can’t afford them. It might surprise you how many kids lack the privilege of reading. Besides, I don’t think she’s doing all that bad—her store gets a lot of traffic. Just last Wednesday, a New York bestselling author hosted a meet-and-greet there.”
“That’s…,” I breathe out. “That’s so kind of her…”
Feeling inspired by the kind and charitable heart of Penny Cooper, I grab a piece of paper wedged between the books and a yellow highlighter that happens to be there and write a note for the owner. I tuck it between the rows of books, hoping she will find it when she returns.
With a heart full, I turn away from the bookmobile and look up at Shaw. “How about some super galactic burgers?”
He laughs, then frowns, pouting at the books. “Don’t you want to take one?”
I shake my head. “No. I’ll just get a copy from the store.” I smile.
Penny’s mission is to put books into the hands of readers who can’t afford to buy them, and I hope she succeeds. Everyone deserves the chance to explore magical worlds and romantic tales. Not everyone has the means to do what Penny is doing—it’s truly admirable, and I’m so glad I stumbled upon her bookmobile. I really hope she finds my note.
“Let’s get you fed,” Shaw says, placing his hand on my lower back and guiding me toward the truck.
As he helps me into the truck and holds the door open, I look up at him. “Hey, Shaw.”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for the best day ever.”
“There’s no need to thank me,” he replies, suddenly looking shy. I love Shaw’s wild, untamed side, but his shy side makes my knees weak and my heart flutter.
“I do need to,” I say, settling back. “You’ve given me some of the best days and memories I’ll treasure forever.” I gaze at him, my voice soft.
Silence falls between us before he furrows his brow and whispers, “I’m afraid.”
My heart stops at how vulnerable he sounds. “What are you afraid of?”
He swallows, his eyes locked with mine, troubled. “I’m afraid of bringing a kid into this world and having them inherit some of my mom’s issues.”
Crack.
My heart aches with the weight of his words. How could he think that? A child of his would be nothing short of perfect. What happened to his mom was tragic, but it’s something that can be managed with the right help. Mental health issues are serious and have claimed many lives, but I truly believe that with medical support and a strong support system, someone can lead a pretty damn good life.
Shaw’s mother didn’t have that.
Clearing my throat, I reach out and touch his cheek. “I don’t believe that,” I whisper, drawing his attention. Shaw presses his face into my palm, and I continue, “You would be so lucky, because I know in my heart that life will bless you with someone as amazing as you are, and that baby would be the luckiest kid on the planet to have you as their dad.”
Something in his gaze shifts—the sadness that had been there moments before melts away, revealing something new—love. I see it in the warmth of his eyes just before he pulls me closer, his grip firm as he captures my lips in a kiss. It’s a kiss that steals the air from my lungs, as if he needs me to breathe just as much as I need him. As we kiss, the evening wind rustles the flowers that adorn the bookmobile in our direction, creating a scene straight out of a romance novel. Here I am, being devoured by my own grumpy yet undeniably sweet hero. Life couldn’t get any better than this.
But I am wrong. It could.