Chapter 7 LifeDream
Life or Dream
Curled up on the window seat in my bedroom, I watched as the world passed me by in more ways than one.
“What am I doing?” I murmured to no one. Resting my cheek on my bent knees, I curled my freshly pink-painted toes into the soft cushion beneath me.
Even as a kid, I never did well with too much time to think. And overthink. True to course, my brain latched onto the few minutes I had free before meeting Kian and Isaiah at the beach.
Sage Ridge wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a brief detour, a rest stop, a couple of weeks at most to catch up with my aunt and catch my breath before striking out on my own as far away from Gary as possible.
To rebuild the life I had before him.
But now I’d been here long enough to make friends and get a job. My roots were creeping along the earth at my feet, searching for a place to rest.
If I wasn’t careful, I’d lose myself in someone else’s dream.
People talk about following their dreams all the time, but few make their way past the fears and obstacles life throws out and grab hold of it.
I was one of the lucky few.
I loved my chocolate shop, Cocoa Loco. More so because I had to fight for it on my own. While friends and family alike encouraged me to pursue my chocolate-making hobby, when I decided to turn it into a business there were more than a few raised eyebrows.
But I did it.
I had it.
Until Gary ripped it away from me the way he did everything else.
The urgency to put space between us that lit my step in the beginning, that yearning to start over somewhere fresh and new where Gary couldn’t reach me, had calmed.
Sage Ridge offered me a safe place to begin healing. And I was healing.
When I first arrived, my only goal had been peace, something that seemed wholly unattainable. The bar was admittedly low, but peace seems awfully high when you don’t have it.
It was no longer enough, but I wasn’t ready for all that entailed. Especially if it included moving on.
My sweet tooth rivaled my aunt’s, and being a chocolatier was my passion. But Sage Ridge was far too small to support two sweet shops, and Anita wasn’t retiring anytime soon.
And yet, I was content working at Susie Q’s.
Perhaps I was too old now for dreams.
Perhaps peace and community were the best I could hope for at this stage of my life. Or maybe I would have to choose between a life filled with family and friends or chasing down my dream?
I’d lost so much when I married Gary, including my friends. And though he complained incessantly about Cocoa Loco, it was the one thing I refused to give up.
Now, I had a life with friends who felt a whole lot more like family than his ever did. Nothing or nobody could make me walk away from them.
But if I stayed, would it mean losing a huge part of myself?
How much of me intertwined with my dream?
And what would I be willing to lose in order to fulfil it?
I had no answers, only questions looping around and around.
Dragging my computer onto my lap, I pulled up the same website I’d used so many years before when I first started looking for a place to open Cocoa Loco.
I scrolled through the offerings until something caught my attention. Sitting forward, my focus sharpening, I read.
Two and a half hours from here in a town twice the size of tiny Sage Ridge, it sounded perfect. I could message the sellers? Request the financials?
Family and friends? Or dream? Round and round and round.
The notification on my cell phone tossed me a reprieve. I put my laptop down and crossed to my dresser to find a message from Kian.
Since we’d gone to the beach a week ago, he’d texted me regularly. At first, I stuck to answering his texts but initiated none.
After the first few days, assured I was not pushing myself on him, I began to text him as well.
Little things.
The daily minutiae.
Things that made me laugh; things I thought would tickle Isaiah.
I texted to ask when they were coming to Susie Q’s and if they wanted to order off the menu or wanted me to surprise them.
Kian always opted for the surprise.
When I created chocolate Lego blocks for Isaiah, I texted Kian to pass by Mary Lou’s to pick them up. When Isaiah blew through the doors to Susie Q’s and delivered a rib-crushing hug, I wanted to build him an entire chocolate universe.
I missed the hours I used to put in designing, molding, and creating.
So, Kian’s name displayed on my cell phone screen did not surprise me.
But his message did.
Kian: Change of Plans. Isaiah is spending the day with Aaron and Nadine. I need to go check out a few possible work projects.
Disappointment rocked me back on my heels. With my thumbs poised over the keyboard, I readied to let him off the hook. Before I could respond, his next message popped up.
Kian: Want to come with me?
It took all of 0.3 seconds for me to respond.
Bridge: YES!
Kian: I thought you might like that. Wear boots and jeans. I don’t want you getting hurt.
Bridge: Yes, Sir.
Kian: Good girl.
Bridge: …
Kian: …
I stared at the screen with wide eyes, watching his bouncing dots, until my unfiltered brain grabbed hold of my thumbs and tapped out a response.
Bridge: I’ll let that pass but if you unlock any more of my kinks, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.
Kian: Don’t tell me these things.
Bridge: Don’t call me a good girl.
Dots danced beside his name.
I held my breath.
Kian: I’m going to regret asking but, are you? Are you a good girl?
I grinned wickedly, feeling more than safe to flirt with the hotter than hot man who was fast becoming a good friend, a man who was out of bounds and therefore not a threat.
A man whose inherent kindness set my soul at ease.
Did that make him even more of a threat?
I mentally tripped over the word but quickly regained my footing and dismissed it.
Giggling to myself, I tapped out my answer.
Bridge: No.
Bridge: I like to give the orders, not follow them.
Kian: Yup. 100% regret. My departure has been delayed by the necessity of a cold shower. See you in 30.
I lay back on my bed and threw one arm over my head.
A familiar stirring unfolded low in my womb. Though the target was off, the return of desire was not unwelcome.
I looked out the window as I trailed my fingers over the smooth expanse of my stomach exposed between the floaty hem of my summer blouse and the waistband of my shorts.
Goosebumps erupted on my skin. A sweetly, contented sigh escaped my mouth.
I couldn’t remember the last time my body responded to a man with warmth or joy.
Gary never once complained about our sex life until we got married. I couldn’t remember when it started, but slowly, insidiously, he picked me apart until sex became an unwelcome chore.
I looked further into the past.
There was a time when sex had been a pleasure and a joy. An adventure.
A time when it was ripe with laughter, heat, passion, and excitement.
There were tenets I developed after Gary that I swore I’d live by.
First, I would not care about what other people thought of me. I suspected I would be working on that one for a while.
Second, I would preserve the bits and pieces that made me who I am and feed my soul no matter the cost. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the idea of giving up my dream was unsettling.
And last, if I ever fell in love again, it would be with a man who frees me to be my dirtiest, filthiest self, walks on the outside of the sidewalk, and kisses me on the forehead. I wondered, incessantly, if Kian could have been that man if his life wasn’t so complicated.
I slanted a glance back at my laptop.
The truth was, the chocolatier that was for sale ticked all my boxes, and I’d be a fool to pass it up. Sitting back down on the window seat, I typed out a request.
“There. Let fate decide.” I snapped the lid shut just as Anita knocked on the ceiling below with her broom.
I quickly shed my shorts, yanked on a pair of jeans, and skipped down the stairs.
She wagged her eyebrows as I pulled open the door to the kitchen and jerked her chin toward the curb where Kian idled in his truck.
I ran out, opened the door, and swung up into the passenger seat. “Hey!”
After one look at him, his hair wet from his recent shower, I burst out laughing and slapped my palm down on his thick thigh. “You really did take a shower?”
He grinned. “Bridget, have mercy please. I’m a celibate man in the prime of his life and you’re a beautiful, albeit off limits, woman.” His smile fell away but his eyes remained soft. “Who is quickly becoming my dearest friend.”
I shrugged, my thoughts mixing like oil and water. “You started it.”
He dipped his head. “I did.”
“You reap what you sow, buddy,” I teased as I reluctantly withdrew my hand.
He shook his head, his deep chuckle warming me.
“So, where are you taking me?”
He quirked a brow. “Do you have a time limit? There are two properties. One is a bit more out of the way. I can drop you off before I head out to that one—”
I cut him off with a slice of my hand through the space between us. “Nope. I’m yours for the day.”
“Well, alrighty then,” he muttered. Palming the steering wheel, he turned us out onto the main road taking us out of Sage Ridge.
“How far is it?”
He wagged his head. “30 minutes?”
“That’s not far,” I commented.
“No,” he paused, “but we’ll be there a while. I need to do a thorough walk-through, check the attic and the basement, then drive around the area to check out the environment.”
“No problem.” I shrugged happily, humming along to the radio, feeling like a kid set free into the wild for summer vacation.
We talked about his family back home in Mapleville. He spoke of his brothers and their crazy antics and how much he loved his sisters. His words quickly revealed the near reverence with which he held his father, and the fierce love that burned inside him for his mother.
I told him about my parents, what it was like growing up as an only child, and how much my sweet, saucy aunt meant to me.
Once we got to the house, I tripped along after him like a puppy as he pointed out the various features and how he saw it coming together.
He stood at the entrance to the family room with his hands on his hips. “That fireplace will be the center gathering place of the whole home.”
Continuing into the dining room, he pointed up at the chandelier. “The vaulted ceiling in here can handle a much larger light fixture. Something gritty, though. Not fancy. This is not a fancy house,” he petered off.
Finally, in the dormer inside an upstairs bedroom, he nodded. “See this nook? Perfect for a reading corner.”
I saw a different side to him as he worked.
One that filled me with happiness.
Here, there was no sign of the beaten-down, guilt-ridden, self-isolating man I’d practically dragged out of Susie Q’s kicking and screaming and forced to be my friend.
This man walked with confidence. Focussed intently on the task at hand, he allotted no energy to worrying about what anyone else was thinking or feeling or doing. He had a job to do, knew how to do it well, and was thoroughly invested.
He was free from worry.
Free from regret, remorse, and repentance if only temporarily.
This was the man I wanted to see more of no matter where he was.
He’d made a mistake.
Granted, it was a big one.
But it wasn’t malicious.
And he’d made no excuse for his actions.
Instead, he leaned in.
Hard.
Turning his life upside down to mitigate the damage of his wrong.
He deserved forgiveness.
Primarily his own.
But I feared he’d never get to the point where he might accept it.