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Dream On(115)

Author:Angie Hockman

“It doesn’t matter. None of that matters. The point is: I choose you, Perry. I want to be with you. Will you give me another chance?”

His throat constricts as he swallows, and I hold my breath, every muscle tense.

“I’m afraid… not. I’m sorry, but I’m not sure my heart could take it.” His smile is as wobbly as his voice, and it’s like an arrow through my gut. He steeples his hands over his nose and mouth briefly before sucking in a shuddering breath.

“Cass, from the very first moment you walked into my shop, I was hooked. Done for. Thoroughly enamored. And that doesn’t happen to me often. I tend to guard my heart at the best of times, but there you were: long legs, hair pulled back revealing the most gorgeous smile, and that voice you used with The Colonel…”

I swipe my fist over my eyes. “Utterly ridiculous.”

“And endearing. You weren’t afraid to be yourself or show who you really are. And when I looked into your eyes, you enchanted me. Who is this woman and how did she end up here… in my shop? We talked, and I thought for a brief, shining moment that maybe you were just as interested in getting to know me as I was in getting to know you. Then you fainted, and whose name did you call? Devin’s. And my hopes shattered.”

I open my mouth to speak, but he continues. “You have to understand, there’s never been a single time in my life when someone has chosen me over my brother—not even our own father. Most of the time, I couldn’t care less. Devin’s his own person and so am I. We’re not in high school anymore, competing for the same small pool of prom dates. But for once, I thought I’d met someone who existed outside of his sphere—someone funny, kind, and completely disarming. But then you said his name, and I knew it was too late. And that was before your whole coma story came out and it seemed fate had destined you for my brother.”

Scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck, he sets his jaw. “But then we spent some time together. At first it wasn’t ideal, like when I crashed your not-really-a-date, date. And then there was that night you came by the shop and we talked about the hopes and dreams we have for our lives. Then the Fourth of July party happened and the painting you gave me and…” He hesitates, and our eyes lock. The unspoken connection between us.

“A tiny speck of hope came back, even while I pushed it down. You were with Devin. That was your choice, and I respected it. But then you painted that mural and you kissed me and I thought… this is it. You chose me. But then you said his name.”

“Perry, it was a mistake.”

He holds up his hand, silencing me. “Please, let me finish,” he says softly. “I know you didn’t mean to, but it’s true, you admitted it—you were thinking about him while you were kissing me. And I can’t help but think: Was your subconscious trying to tell you something? Was it fate at work again, steering you toward your soul mate and here I am, simply in the way?”

“No, fate has nothing to do with it. The fact I coma-remembered Devin was a coincidence. I—”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t live with the doubt. I’ve worked too hard to accept and appreciate who I am, independent of my father and brother, and I need to be with someone who leaves no room for doubt in my mind of our possible future together. I care about you Cass. I always will. But I can’t be with you. I know my heart couldn’t survive if you decided to choose him again. I can’t take that chance. I’m sorry.”

Then, without so much as a backward glance, the man I care about more than anyone in the world walks away from me forever.

* * *

I somehow manage to keep it together for the remainder of the festival, although I have no idea how. After taking several minutes to collect myself behind Perry’s tent, I eventually emerge and find Frank and Andréa, who inform me that Mercedes had to leave early due to a family emergency. I trail behind them as they float from booth to booth, dutifully smiling when they look my way, and pretend to be excited for Andréa when she finds the perfect birthday gift for her mother—a whimsical crocheted purse. I studiously avoid going anywhere near Perry’s Blooms & Baubles tent, and I don’t see Devin again either.

Once the two hours of forced fun are up and Frank and Andréa and the other Smith & Boone attorneys say their goodbyes, I drag myself to the food tent, where Brie is still helping Marcus. She takes one look at my face and scurries over to me.

“What’s wrong?”