Better Than Your Dreams by Dee Ernst

Author:Dee Ernst [Ernst, Dee]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: 235 Alexander Street
Published: 2014-08-06T04:00:00+00:00

Painting, it turned out, used a whole different set of muscles, and I had apparently never used any of those muscles before. In my entire life. Paint also smelled bad, and it got in your hair and under your fingernails. I spent way too long in the shower trying to rid my body of Bradford Street Beige, but finally gave up. Luckily I had a brown sweater, so I was at least color coordinated.

David treated us to a great steak dinner; then we went back to the house. The newly painted first floor looked clean and pretty. We sat and stuffed envelopes with wedding invitations. Miranda did not consult with me about her selection, but they were nonetheless simple and elegant. The four of us chatted and licked stamps until nine thirteen, at which point I was falling asleep on the floor, so I went upstairs and fell into bed fully clothed.

I don’t know what time Ben came to bed, but I was instantly awake as soon as I felt his body hit the mattress. I was exhausted and everything ached, but all I wanted to do was reach over and sneak my hand around his waist to feel the hard muscle beneath smooth skin.

“Mona?” he whispered.

“I’m awake.”

He was lying flat on his back. I could see his profile by the faint glow of the streetlight outside the window.

“You did really well today,” he said softly.

I smiled in the darkness. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I? I’m kinda impressed with myself.”

“I have to say, I misjudged you. I apologize.”

“Accepted.” I had to make a fist to keep my hand from inching over. Did Ben feel it? The very air in the room was charged with…what—lust?

“The kids seem to have gotten over their argument,” Ben said.

“I was waiting for it. Miranda is a very…let’s say headstrong girl. I knew that eventually something like this would happen.”

“But now they know how to do it,” Ben said. “They know that even if they disagree, there’s a way around it.”

I was afraid to move. I felt like if I did and the weight on the futon shifted, we would accidentally touch. If that happened, I would probably end up making a total fool of myself. But…didn’t Ben feel this too? Was he made of stone?

“Is there always a way around it?” I asked.

“I used to think so,” he said. Then he sat up and swung his feet to the floor. “I need a shower.”

I sat up and watched him walk toward the door. “But you showered earlier,” I called after him.

“I know,” he said shortly.

I lay back in bed. He must have been in there for a quite a while, because the second time he got into bed, I was so deeply asleep I didn’t feel a thing.

Sunday I slept late. I woke up only because I could hear them struggling to carry David and Miranda’s bed down the staircase. I made myself get up, had lots of coffee, ate my bagel very slowly, and

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