Page 57 of Wine & Dine

22

Santa’s list

[Garrett]

I wake to a tender snore above my head and a kink in my neck. I roll to discover I’m still positioned on Dolores’s lap, and I glance up at her. Her head lies at an awkward angle against the back of my couch. One hand must have been on my hip, but when I shifted, it slipped to my front, which bulges as I was having the most lucid dream about her. Us. Together.

She was laughing as she ran between grapevines in bloom, and I was chasing her. Her skirt billowed out behind her, and her laughter called back to me. She wanted me to follow her. I eventually caught up to her, wrapping an arm around her from behind, and we tumbled to the ground. Under the broad blue sky and bright sunshine, we made love, and warmth from both the day and her body surrounded me. The heat is one reason I woke. I’m burning up.

I sit up gingerly and startle Dolores who gave one hearty, deep snort before lunging her head forward.

“Goodness,” she mutters in a groggy voice. “Did I wake you?” Her fingers swipe at the corner of her mouth.

“No.” I reach out to cup the back of her neck and just stare at her. We have this uncanny way of looking at one another for longer than should be comfortable. Her looking back at me is like she can see deep beneath the surface of me.

Can you see inside my hollow chest?

I didn’t mean to hurt her yesterday. I was a total dick. I didn’t mean to be short with her earlier about the pots and pans. When I have one of these headaches, it hurts like hell, and I’m sensitive to noise. I also don’t like bright light. I’m still a little foggy. With a nudge at my hip from Wally, I break the hold I have on Dolores.

“He needs to go out again,” she says. “I can take him.”

I turn toward the windows to discover it’s already dark. I don’t want her walking on the beach this late at night.

“I’ll just take him down to the grass by the lot and be right back,” I say, rolling off the couch and walking to the front door. I turn to look back at her, her sleepy gaze watching me as she crosses her arms on the back of the couch and rests her chin on her hands. An achy panic fills my chest, and I rub at the place near my heart. “You’ll stay, right?”

“I thought you’d want me to go home.”

“I don’t. I’d like you to stay.”

Dolores’s brows furrow while she gives me a dreamy grin. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The pounding in my chest increases. “I’ll meet you in bed in ten.”

“Sex deprivation,” she teases as her grin increases.

“I’ll sleep better if you’re next to me,” I admit, not wanting to seem like a sex-starved teenager who only wants one thing from her. I want so much more from her, and the realization hit me hard today.

I missed her.

Have I kissed her yet tonight? I need to kiss her. I need to apologize.

Since I took Dolores to the vineyard, my investment vision has become clearer in my head, and I spent the greater part of the day working on details. I have a plan, and for me, that means I want immediate gratification. I told myself it was the reason for my headache, but in reality, it’s all the overthinking I’ve been doing since leaving Dolores yesterday evening. I need to tell her what happened in Atlanta. What Denton suggested. I think that’s what brought on much of today’s headache. My thoughts weighed heavy on me all morning, and I’d worked myself up. I should have told her this weekend. I should have kissed her last night. I should have asked her to stay with me. She consumes me, and my chest aches with this need I feel for her.

After Wally does his business, I return to the condo and climb into my bed. It’s a bit surreal to see Dolores under my sheets, waiting for me. I mean, we’ve slept here before together, but this time, it feels different. I crawl in next to her but remain on my back, staring up at the ceiling.

“I need to apologize,” I say and turn my head to face her. She’s sitting up in bed, and an image of us in this position in the future filters through my head like the dream of chasing her through a vineyard. A silly dream.

“For what?” She gives no hint to her feelings, but she was hurt yesterday with my behavior in the forest. I didn’t give her an explanation, and then I just left her at Denton’s door last night.

“Yesterday, I…I don’t know why I acted the way I did. I don’t know why I sent you home.”

Dolores stares over at me. “It’s okay,” she whispers much like she did into my chest while we stood in the forest. Why hadn’t I told her then how I felt or at least tried to describe this feeling inside me? Her brows pinch. It’s not okay how I acted, and I have an idea. A way to make it up to her.

“I have something to ask you.” I broach the subject, chewing on my lip as Dolores stiffens beside me. I softly chuckle. That came out a tad dramatic. Then again, asking Dolores to attend the WomenFirst Christmas gala is big for me. This year the event is especially important, and making her my date is an unprecedented move on my part. “I have this thing to attend, and I was wondering if you would go with me.”

Her forehead furrows as if she’s trying to find an angle. “What kind of thing?”

“It’s a Christmas thing.” I don’t know why I’m minimizing the gala. The organization raises money for women and children of domestic abuse. It’s a good cause and one dear to me as my father left our mother with four small children and a broken heart under a few crushed ribs.