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The dream Derek was warm, and she snuggled into his chest. Man, he even smelled like the real Derek. Could she usually smell in a dream? She couldn’t remember.
Derek laid her down in her bed. The next thing she knew he was putting her covers over her. She grabbed his arm. “Don’t go, Emperor,” she said, her mouth not working right. The words barely made it out.
He sighed and smoothed her hair from her face. Then he gently placed his lips on her forehead. It felt like sunshine and warmth. She pulled him to her.
He climbed under the covers and she snuggled into his chest. This was the best dream, ever. She still felt tired, for some strange reason, in her dream and fell back asleep with Derek in her arms.
She hoped she wouldn’t be too disappointed when she woke up.
Her dream seemed to last a longer time than normal. In fact, a few times in the night she had the strangest sensation that it wasn’t a dream at all, but that Derek was actually in bed with her. Which was ridiculous.
But when the morning light filled the room and she sleepily felt the spot beside her, Derek wasn’t there, and her heart broke. A small part of her had hoped it had been real.
Pain stabbed at her chest and she blinked back tears. She missed him so much. It had been such a great dream. Feeling Derek’s arms around her. His soft caress. His lips on her forehead. She wanted that again. Her body ached for him.
Why was she still in New York? She was jobless, and growing more and more penniless by the day. Rent in NYC was insane, even for her tiny dump of a place. She should go back to L.A.
The thought of being near Derek sent another wave of tears down her cheeks. Why couldn’t she just leave? Accept defeat and run back to her father’s house with her tail between her legs.
A smell drifted into her room and she inhaled. Pancakes? She grabbed her pillow and buried her head. Which neighbor was making pancakes? That was so cruel.
A noise came from her kitchen and she froze, her blood turning to ice. Someone was in her apartment? For a split second she wondered if her dream last night had been real. She shook her head and chastised herself. Derek wasn’t there. And no one was in her apartment. That was stupid.
She crawled out of bed, her head dizzy. She was famished, and the smell of pancakes was making her mouth water. She needed to eat. It had been long enough. Time to stop wallowing and being stupid.
She opened her bedroom door and panic enveloped her. The smell wasn’t coming from a neighbor’s house. It was too strong. And she heard the sound of dishes clinking together in her kitchen. She peeked around the corner and saw Derek at the stove with a spatula in his hand.
She shrieked and he whipped around, obviously startled. “What are you doing here?” Her heart hammered in her chest. “How did you get in?”
Derek put his hand up. “Whoa, you let me in. Last night. You don’t remember?”
“No.” She shook her head for emphasis. But then she remembered her dream. Someone knocking. Her opening the door for Derek. “Oh,” she said, lowering her gaze. “Maybe I do.”
“Sit. You look like you’re going to fall over. When’s the last time you’ve eaten?” He turned back to the stove and scooped up a pancake from the frying pan.
“I don’t know,” she admitted as she walked the three steps to her kitchen chair.
“Here,” he said, putting a plate with a stack of three pancakes in front of her. He’d cleaned off her kitchen table. Her gaze snapped to the sink. He’d done the dishes, too.
A lump swelled in her throat and she could barely speak. “Why are you here?”
He set a bottle of strawberry syrup in front of her. “Eat.”
Tears blurred her vision. Had he brought the syrup from home? She couldn’t believe it. How could he be so tuned in to what she needed? She quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks. What a stupid thing to cry about. She poured the syrup and cut into the pancakes. They tasted amazing.
Derek worked at the stove while she ate. He put another hot pancake on her plate after she’d finished her stack. He froze, his gaze staring down at her ring. The one she still wore.
She placed her hand in her lap, embarrassed she still had it on. “Did my father send you?”
He slowly turned back to the stove. “He called me because he was concerned about you.”
“Aren’t you going to eat any of these?”
“I already ate.” He pointed to her plate. “Eat. I know you haven’t been.”
“I’m almost full.”
“Then eat until you’re all the way full.” He removed the frying pan from the burner and turned it off.
