I nearly laughed. Uncle Al clearly didn’t know Dex at all. “He just got out of a long-term relationship. He’s not thinking about that shit.”
“And are you?”
I stared at the wisps of steam coming off the mug of tea. Christ, I didn’t know what I was thinking half the time. I wasn’t about to tell him about my white picket fence idea, the conversation we had about doing something after EIT, about houses in Seaside, Boston, or wherever I said. I wasn’t going to tell him about the maternal instinct that started kicking about when I saw him being a fur baby daddy to Fat Rabbit.
“I…”I started. “I’m just playing it by ear.”
He shook his head slightly. “You’re in love, Perry. You’re head over heels. You’re playing it by heart, not ear. Like you always do.”
“Well what the hell do you want me to say? If I say I think about a future with him, you’ll get mad, and if I say I don’t, you’ll call me a liar.”
His eyes softened and reached out for my hand across the table. “Bella, please. I’m not mad. I just want to pull you out of it for just a moment, just so you can look at it from a different angle. There are so many things in life that make us happy in the short term. These cookies, for example,” he said, picking up the tray. “But in the long term, they can hurt you.”
“Maybe I’m tired of everyone always worrying about me getting hurt,” I said snidely, crossing my arms.
“Maybe we’re worried because you are always getting hurt,” he said, “and a person can only get hurt so many times before it really starts to ruin them.”
“Alberto, are you coming to bed?” Marda asked, appearing at the doorway in a silk night robe, a sleep mask smeared on her face.
“Just a minute, darling,” he said, flashing her his smile.
“No more cookies,” she said, wagging her finger at him. “You have to watch your heart.”
When she left, he looked at me and sighed. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just looking out for you as I always do. Wasn’t I right about Seattle? About you going to stay with him and his girlfriend?”
I mumbled that he was. “But it doesn’t mean you’re right about this. I love Dex. I know him inside and out.”
“You know him as much as you can know someone for eight months,” he said. “Just don’t forget that. And don’t forget that most of that time, he was with someone else.” He eased himself out of the chair, leaving me with that extremely sobering thought.
He kissed me on the head goodnight and then shuffled off toward his room. I sat there at the table, drinking my hot tea until it was gone, apprehensive now about going to see Dex. I hated that my uncle—and by extension, my parents—were able to instill this doubt in me.
Had I really only known Dex, my Dex, my Declan Foray, for less than a year? The last two months of us living together, that was the only time we were actually together as a couple. Plus we started up hot on the heels of his last relationship, one that lasted three fucking years. No wonder my parents were so against the whole thing. No wonder my uncle was. Aside from the people who knew us best like Rebecca, Dean, and Ada, our relationship must look batshit crazy to the rest of the world.
Then again, what else was new?
I took in a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves, then placed the cup of tea in the sink. I wondered if Rebecca was up and ready for a chat, but the lights in the living room were out. I reluctantly made my way to the bathroom and then finally the guest bedroom.
I carefully slipped into bed, not knowing if Dex was asleep. I wanted to talk to him—I wanted to know what he talked to Uncle Al about and if it was anywhere near as brutal as it was for me. But I heard him snoring lightly, brought on by all the beers, and decided to leave it for another day. I turned my back to him, our asses touching each other but our upper bodies far apart.
CHAPTER FIVE
I was on a bluff, overlooking the sea. I didn’t know how I was there, but I was. The grass was cool beneath my feet, the wind sweeping off the blackened ocean was rich with salt and chilled.
I’d been here before. Was I dreaming?
I looked down at my body and saw I was barefoot and in a simple, plain nightgown. The déjà vu was back in full force all over again, transporting me back to September. But instead of being beside a lighthouse, there was nothing there except the burnt remains and a few pieces of foundation.
I had to be dreaming. I never owned a nightgown like that, and the only time I ever did was when I was caught in a nightmare. I half expected the shriveled face of Old Roddy to appear, to remind me that what happened here, what started it all, was only eight months ago.
But he never came. He never popped up. As far as I could tell, I was alone. It was just me and that dark, wide expanse of the Pacific, beckoning me like a gaping mouth.
I stared at the ocean, those obsidian waves that crashed at the shore below, wondering if this was all there was to it. Then, after some time, I knew it was all beginning.
A child’s giggle came from behind me and the punchy sound of a rubber ball being kicked. I turned around to see nothing but the lighthouse remains and the dewy grass that stretched back into the forest of thick trees. There was no child, there was no ball. But that didn’t mean anything.
Suddenly I heard quick footsteps behind me and the feeling of someone running past, brushing against my legs. Right before my eyes I saw a child form from thin air—a young girl—who ran after a ball. She squealed as she went, her attention devoted to getting the ball and nothing else.
At least it seemed that way until she reached it and kicked it off into the forest. The girl stopped, and in her brief stillness I could make out her fine features, her long dark hair and neatly tied bow at the back, her plain dress and shiny shoes. She was no doubt a ghost—her complexion was more than pale and there was a slight transparency about her, but I still couldn’t tell if I was really seeing her or if it was all in my head. My dreams had always been prophetic, but since the one that Pippa appeared in the other day, it was hard to tell if they were real or not.
No wonder my parents were so concerned about me losing my mind. It never really ended, did it?
The ghost dream girl cocked her head at me and I could see her eyes were nothing but black marbles, the soulless ones that ripped into you. “Can you go after my ball?” she asked, her accent untraceable but her words properly enunciated.