19. Chapter 19
I close my eyes and wait for his lips to touch mine.
Just then, I hear the shutting of a bedroom door down the hall.
“Loooren,” I hear Laila’s voice, loud and intrusive, “Do you have any aspirins?”
The sweet spell we were both under is now broken. Aaron releases me from the warmth of his embrace and takes a step away from me.
When Laila realizes I’m not in my room, she goes into the bathroom, and we can both hear her going through the medicine cabinet.
Clad in a long-sleeved pajama top and sweats, Laila walks into the living room with a pill bottle in hand. When she sees Aaron standing next to me, she says, “Hey Aaron, back from your trip?”
“Yeah, I’m back,” says Aaron, running his fingers through his hair.
We watch as Laila opens one of the cupboards in the kitchen and pulls out a glass. After pouring herself some orange juice and putting the bottle back in the refrigerator, she leisurely walks back down the hall. We hear her say, “Good night, Aaron,” before she walks into the spare bedroom and shuts the door.
“Good night, Laila,” Aaron says under his breath, “I should go.”
“Yes, of course,” I say, numbly reaching for the door and opening it slightly.
“I’m glad you made it back from your trip safely.” I feel a twinge of pain in my heart thinking of the last man I loved who never came home. I brush the negative thought aside, but it’s quickly replaced by guilt. I almost lost the one thing I have left of Justin. His last kiss. Guilt courses through my body like an icy winter storm.
“Oh, before I go,” Aaron begins, “When I drove in, I noticed a man leaving your house. Are you dating him?”
“Um, no,” I say, completely distracted, “That’s my new assistant, Sam.”
“Assistant? At the studio, you mean?”
“Yes, I had a couple of dozen finished pieces to deliver to a wedding reception in the morning. I needed to wrap and box them up, so he and Laila came to help.
“I see,” is all he says, but the look of relief that washes over his face speaks volumes.
He walks over to the door and says good night.
“Good night, Aaron.”
I watch him walk across the lawn before I go back inside and shut the door.
I turn around and find my little sister standing at the end of the hallway with her arms crossed in front of her and one eyebrow raised.
“What the hell was that?” she asks, pointing at the door.
“How long have you been standing there?” I ask. “Were you eavesdropping?”
“No,” she says halfheartedly. ”But be glad I came in when I did. I could’ve stayed quiet and had a front-row seat to a steamy make-out session between you and the hottie from next door.”
I blush.
“I swear, the only thing missing was the popcorn,” she adds. “The guy is smitten.”
“Are you talking about Aaron or Sam?” I ask, shooting her a glaring look of disapproval.
“Touché, my sister,” she says, her eyes wide with amusement, “Touché.”
“Would it be so bad if I let him kiss me?” I ask, wanting her honest opinion.
“Not at all, but will you regret it in the morning?”
I shrug my shoulders without responding because I honestly don’t know.
“Aaron is a good man,” Laila says, “He deserves to find someone who will be completely devoted to him and his daughter.”
“I know,” I say, not having much to add in my defense.
“Loren, you haven’t been out on a date in four years. Now, all of a sudden, you’re going to kiss a man you hardly know?”
“It’s late. I’m going to bed.” I say defensively.
“Yes, go to bed. You can thank me in the morning.” With that, my sister gives me a hug and heads down the hallway into the bedroom.
When I finally go to bed, I pray that I can fall asleep.
“Loren! Loren, please wake up!”
When I open my eyes, Laila is shaking me, her eyes wide with fear and concern. I feel cold and wet. I look at her, confused and completely beside myself, my heart pounding.
“You were having a nightmare,” she says, “Are you okay?”
I’m crying. I can’t stop the tears, but I don’t know why. I start hyperventilating, and Laila hugs me for a long time.
“You’re soaked in sweat, Loren,” she says, “Let’s get you out of those clothes.”
I feel cold, and my heart is racing. After Laila puts my hair up in a tight bun on top of my head, she turns the shower on for me. I slip out of my pajamas and climb into the warm water. I cry for the next ten minutes, remembering my dream but wanting so badly to forget it.
When I walk back into the bedroom wearing clean clothes and a warm robe, my little sister is putting clean sheets on the bed. I help her with the pillowcases, and then I sit next to her. Her eyes are full of genuine concern and empathy.
“Are you okay?” she asks when I start crying again.
“I haven’t had a nightmare like that in years,” I say, wiping the tears away.
“What was it?” she asks, rubbing my back like Mom used to do when we were little girls and we had a bad dream. “Tell me.” Her voice is calm and soothing.
“Charles was standing at the door,” I say between bouts of crying, “He was crying, telling me that Justin was dead. But when I looked behind him, I could see Justin standing next to his car. He was looking at me. He looked fine. He was alive. I ran up to him and hugged him with all my might. I was so happy to see him. But then he opened the car door and told me to get in. He said, ’Let’s go,’ but I didn’t want to. Laila, I didn’t want to go.”
“It’s okay, Sis,” she says soothingly, “You’re okay. It was just a bad dream. It’s over now.”
“When I refused to go with him, he took me by the hand and started pulling me into the car. He kept saying, ’Please, Loren, come with me. Don’t let me go. Please don’t leave me. Don’t ever leave me.’ I kept pulling away from him until he let go. He looked heartbroken. He left me standing there and got into the car. I begged him not to go, but he didn’t listen. He drove away, and I ran after him screaming, begging him not to go and then begging him to come back until I could no longer see the car. Then I heard the car swerve, metal screeching, and glass shattering. It was so real. It was so real.” I start crying again.
Laila sits with me for a long time, rubbing my back and handing me one tissue after another. She patiently waits until I stop crying. We lay on the bed together, and soon, I can hear her soft, deep breathing.
“Justin!” I hear myself scream in the dark. My sister is up, holding me by the shoulders. “Loren, wake up, Sweetie.”
“I’m awake, I’m awake,” I say, feeling sweat forming under my shirt.
“Another bad dream?” Laila asks.
“Yes, just a slightly different version of the same nightmare.”
“Do you need to change?”
“No,” I say, “I’m okay.”
When my alarm goes off a couple of hours later, I hit the snooze button and turn over, finding the bed empty.
When I see Laila walking in a couple of minutes later, holding a cup of hot tea, my heart fills with gratitude.
“Here, drink this. It’ll settle your nerves.” She sits next to me and hands me the cup.
I breathe in the aroma of chamomile and take a sip.
“I’m so glad you were here to help me,” I tell my sister in earnest.
“Me too,” she says, smiling.
“What do you think the dreams mean?” I ask her.
“Sweetie, those were not dreams,” she says, “They were frightening nightmares. You were terrified.”
“But what do you think they mean?” I insist.
“They don’t mean anything. As scary as they were, they were just dreams,” she assures me.
“No, I don’t think so,” I say as I reach for my rings and grip them tightly.
I spend the next few minutes thinking and drinking my tea. Then I get out of bed and start pacing the floor. When I don’t say anything, Laila gets up, walks into the bathroom, and shuts the door.
I’ve made the decision not to see Aaron Baldwin again.
When Laila turns the shower on, I pick up the phone and call Mom. I know she’s an early riser, so I’m not waking her up. She picks up on the first ring.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Loren, you’re calling early. Is everything okay?”
“Things couldn’t be better, Mom. Are you and Dad still planning a trip to Greece?”
“Yes, we’re planning to go in a couple of months.”
“Am I still invited to come with you?”
“Yes, of course you are, but what about the studio?”
“I hired an assistant. His name is Sam, and he’s been doing a fabulous job so far. I feel confident that I can leave the studio in his hands in two months.”
“Loren, did something happen?”
“What makes you think something happened, Mom?”
“It’s seven o’clock in the morning.”
“I just decided I wanted to cross some things of the list my therapist gave me.”
“Okay, Sweetheart, I’ll take your word for it.”
When I hang up the phone, I look at the bathroom door, still shut. I know that Laila will be going home later and will definitely tell Mom all about my bad dreams.
When she comes out of the bathroom wearing a bathrobe and a towel wrapped around her head, I put my arm around her waist and lead her to the bed.
“What?” She asks.
“We have to talk,” I say. “About last night.”