Chapter 27

It's Just a Dream

THE LIVE BAND DIDN'Tfinish until 2 a.m. They left well before midnight. In the quiet of the elevator, on the ride up to their tenth-floor hotel suite, Noah broke the silence. "What happened tonight? You seem...off."

Immediately thinking, hello pot, meet kettle, she looked up sharply. The motion sent a sharp pain through her brain. Fiona winced, rubbing her forehead. "It's the headache."

He frowned down at her and looked like he was going to say something more, but they arrived at their floor, and the doors slid open.

After unlocking the door and ushering her inside, he promptly sent her straight to bed. "While you get ready, I'll bring you an ice pack and something for the pain."

They parted ways, him veering right into the kitchen while she continued on to the bedroom they shared. She heard a faint beep followed by an unfamiliar voice, different from Noah's deep baritone, but it was too low for her to make out what was being said. In the bathroom, she slipped into her nightgown and went through her bedtime routine, including rubbing on lavender aromatherapy lotion, hoping it would help her sleep and shake the headache.

When she came out, Noah was waiting with ibuprofen and a glass of water. She swallowed it down and climbed into bed. He covered her to her chin, bent, and kissed her gently on the lips. "It's early still. I'm going to return a call then watch TV and unwind for a bit."

"I heard the machine. Was it anything urgent?"

As he hesitated, his eyes flicked to the side, betraying his uncertainty about how much to reveal. When they came back to her, he explained, "It was the case coordinator at SVI. They were looking for a surgeon for a trip leaving for Central America next week."

"How long would you be gone?"

"A few weeks. But I'm going to decline. It's too soon."

Along with the throbbing in her head, her stomach twisted into knots. They'd been together practically around the clock for almost two months. Being apart for a few weeks sounded like an eternity.

But maybe time apart was what he needed. To see if he wanted to go back to how things were before she disrupted his life. It was a monumental shift from his normal, that was for sure.

It was the opposite of Esme's advice. She couldn't dig in and be persistent if he wasn't here. Did she even want to though? If he was just biding his time until he felt she was strong enough after her ordeal, it would only mean worse heartache when he inevitably walked away.

"It sounds like they need you," she said quietly. "You should go."

"Fiona. It hasn't even been a week."

"I'll be okay. I'm scheduled to work fifty hours next week—just like old times. And if I need anything, I can call Val or Esme...or my new shrink."

Yesterday, she'd had her first therapy session with the kink-friendly PTSD specialist Val recommended. She cried like a baby for the entire forty-five minutes. When she left with appointments for two sessions the following week, she felt fortunate she hadn't ordered a direct admission to the psych ward.

"I'm not going," he insisted. "I'd feel like I was abandoning you."

It was like a dagger to her heart, and exactly as she'd suspected. Honor was keeping him by her side. She closed her eyes, struggling hard not to cry. That would just reinforce his belief that she was emotionally fragile and still needed her protector. Guilt and pity were not a basis for a relationship.

"Whatever you decide," she whispered, rubbing her temples, her head now pounding.

"Rest. We'll talk about this more tomorrow, when you're not in pain."

She grabbed his wrist when he got up to leave. "We've both dedicated our careers to helping kids like the ones who need you in Central America. I want you to go. I'd be riddled with guilt if I was the reason they didn't get the care they needed."

"Baby..."

Not kitten.

"You should go." She tried to mask her shaky voice by rolling onto her side and fluffing her pillow, hoping he wouldn't notice."This headache is bad, Noah. I'm going to try to sleep it off."

Without agreeing, he bent and pressed his lips to the side of her head. "I'll be down the hall if you need anything."

She nodded but didn't answer, waiting to exhale and give way to silent tears until his footsteps moved out of the room and well down the hall.

THE SUNSHINE WAS WARMon his face, as was the gentle breeze off the water. The sound of a baby's laughter brought a smile to his lips, and he quickened his pace. He scanned the green grass lining the river walk. When he spotted the pretty blonde with a towheaded toddler in her arms, he raised a hand and waved.

Jogging now, he called to them, "Claire! Leah!"

"Look, baby. Daddy's here," she said, pointing to him and smiling.

When they were almost within reach, suddenly, clouds rolled in and everything turned gray. A familiar chemical scent hit his nostrils, instantly triggering a foggy memory. The breeze was gone, as was the river. People crowded the room where he now stood, their faces somber, some women openly weeping.

He looked around for his family.

Seeing a gathering at the end of a long line at the front of the room, he hurried that way. As he approached, the grim-faced people, all dressed in black, parted, revealing a rose casket surrounded by daisies, Claire's favorite flower.

Noah lurched to a halt.

"No," he whispered, anguish straining his voice. "This can't be happening again."

He forced himself forward. He had to know.

His beautiful wife, once vibrant in life, lay pale and still. In her arms, to be buried with her because he couldn't bring himself to separate her from her mother, was his two-year-old baby girl. Agony invaded his chest, nearly doubling him over. He couldn't bear to let them go again.

"Noah," a soft feminine voice called.

His gaze shifted to Claire's face. It couldn't be her; she was gone. But, as he looked closer, her blonde hair seemed to shift and change, transforming into a rich caramel hue. Impossibly, her eyes opened. When she looked up at him, they weren't the blue he expected, but a deep brown. The head resting beneath her chin turned, and a baby boy, a tiny version of himself, blinked up at him too.

Noah's breath caught in his throat as Fiona's full lips parted, and she whispered, "Why didn't you protect us?"

The room whirled around him. Guilt and grief crashed down like a towering wall of bricks. Buried in it, he couldn't breathe. Desperately, he burrowed through the debris with his bare hands, the dust and rubble smothering him.

A hand reached out to him through the chaos and touched his arm. In an instant, a burst of fresh air surrounded him, along with warmth and light.

"Noah," her soft voice called again, but with urgency. "It's just a dream."

With a jolt, he woke drenched in sweat. His chest heaved as he tried to shake off the sensation of suffocating and the remnants of the haunting dream. The image of Fiona with their child who didn't exist was a subconscious reminder of a past he could never forget.

Beside him, she reached up and stroked his cheek. "You can't keep on this way."

Suddenly, they were in each other's arms. His hands swept her body, reassuring through touch that she wasn't cold and lifeless, and lost to him. Her warmth seeped into his skin, her breath soft on his neck. Strands of hair caught in his beard, tickling his cheeks and throat, and the scent of her lavender shampoo filled his senses.

A primal urge to be as close to her as possible consumed him. He sank both hands into her glorious hair and claimed her mouth, both desperate and hungry. Fiona responded, her fingers curling into his shoulders, her nails digging in with a biting pain he welcomed as further proof she was flesh and blood, not a ghost to slip through his fingers.

He couldn't wait any longer and lifted her. She instinctively spread her thighs to straddle him. As her body sank onto him, her heat enveloping him, he thrust into her wetness. Like with every time he stretched and filled her, she couldn't contain her blissful moans.

His hands on her hips set the rhythm, which she readily fell into. As they moved as one, Noah felt a surge of emotion, a mix of lust and longing and tenderness, all wrapped up in the woman he held in his arms. Because of the franticness of their joining, they each spiraled quickly to their peak, Fiona finding it first, and him quick to follow.

Gasping for air and wrapped around one another, they didn't move for the longest time. Then, necessity forced him to.

Afterward, as they lay tangled together, their bodies spent and sated, he relaxed enough to doze.

In the twilight before sleep fully took hold, he heard Fiona's whispered words. "Rest easy, Noah, and know that I love you."

His eyes snapped open, instantly awake. Staring at the ceiling, he listened to her slow, even breathing. She was asleep, which posed the question. Were her words part of a dream? And, if so, did he dream it, or had she?