Broken Dreams (Broken Series) (12 page)

I had to turn around to follow her movements with my eyes. She paced while she talked and when she finally stopped, I stood.

“It’s okay to be scared,”
I said, walking over to her in the middle of the kitchen. “Hell, it’s not even happening to me and I’m scared.”

“Really?” She looked up at me with tear
-
filled eyes.

“Of course. It’s not every day I fall in love with a woman who’s dying,” I joked half-heartedly, taking her hands in mine.

“You’re really in love with me? I mean, you said so back in your apartment, but I kind of thought it was just the heat of the moment.”

“I said it before? I don’t even remember that. But I will remember this. I love you
,
Lorraine Daniels.”

She gulped. “You shouldn’t love me, Baker. I’m no good for you.”

“What are you talking about? You’re the only woman who can stand my quirky sense of humor
.
” I smiled at her, trying to hide my disappointment that she didn’t say it back. She wasn’t ready, and I promised myself I would be patient.

“I’m going to
die
.” Her voice broke, and along with it, my heart. “If you love me now, you’ll just be heartbroken later, and you’ll be alone.”

“I’ve been alone before, Rainey.
While you were in LA, I spent several years trying to find happiness, using women like playthings to fill a void in my soul. But it was you – you are the only one who can fill that void. When you came back, I knew right away that you were it for me. And knowing that you have a shelf life,” I paused, waiting for her smile
,
“
w
ell, that just means that I’m not going to let you go again. Not if I can help it. If I had the choice of a hundred healthy years to live or twelve short weeks with you, I’d choose you, every single time.”

I leaned forward and kissed her sweetly. Tears escaped her eyes and I wiped them away with the pad of my thumb. She smiled sadly at me again.

“When did you get so sweet?”

“I’ve always been sweet. You just never noticed me. In fact, you pushed me away then, just like you’re doing now. But let’s get one thing straight
.
” I leaned down to look her in the eye. “I. Am. Not. Going. Anywhere.” I gave her a quick peck and then went back to the table, picking up my coffee and heading into the living room to look at photographs again.

She didn’t move for almost a full minute as my words settled over her. I tried not to grin as I eyed all the photos again. When she finally moved, she came into the living to look at pictures with me.

“This one was taken at the airport, right after I moved here
.
”
S
he pointed to a frame that sat on a shelf about shoulder height.

I took in the photo, memorizing every detail.
This
was the Rainey I remembered. She was tall, with shorter blonde hair and those same fiery green eyes. The only thing different was her size. In the photo, her hips were fuller, round
er
, but still delectable. Even her breasts were plumper, filling the tattered
T
-shirt she wore more fully. She looked like a kid, and in many ways, she was. I turned to look at her next to me.

She had changed over the years – her slimmer waist, longer hair, even the way she dressed was more refined, older. But she was still there, the Rainey I loved. The girl who laughed at my stupid jokes and shook her head at me when I was being an idiot. Just
Rainey
.

I was lucky to have her in my life, and although I regretted not having her in my life for the last few years, I wanted to make up for lost time in the next few months. I wanted to be by her side when she breathed her last, knowing that we had made the most out of our time together.

“So what do you want to do today?” I asked her.

She glanced at me, her surprise evident in her raised brow.

“How long are you staying?” She asked.

“For however long you are,” I informed her.

“What? You can’t stay here
.
”
S
he stepped away from me.

“I can pretty much do what I want. Free country, and all that. But I am staying here because I love you and I’m not about to let one moment pass without spending it with you,” I explained.

“But… What about when I die?” She looked down at her hands.

I put my finger under her chin to get her to look at me. “Then a little piece of me will die, too. Until then, I want to enjoy being with you.”

I saw the fear creep into her eyes and knew I scared her, but I needed her to know I wasn’t about to walk away.

And then something else appeared in her bright eyes. Something akin to mischief.

“What are you thinking?”

“Well, on the plane ride here, I made up a bucket list…”

“Hell yes. Whatever’s on it, we’ll do,” I promised.

“I sort of threw it away
.
”
S
he looked sheepish.

“We’ll write a new one, then. No big deal. What’s the first thing that comes to mind to do?” I asked her, ready for anything she could think of.

“How about Vegas?”

I wasn’t ready for that. 

Chapter Thirteen

Rainey

Vegas wasn’t actually on my original to-do list. It had been on my mind, though. Living out west as I had for several years, I always wanted to do something reckless and frivolous. But the leukemia had made me more reserved, less likely to do something just for the sake of doing it.
I always told myself that
someday
I would get to Vegas, do all the things I wanted to do.

Someday was now. With only a few months to enjoy my life, if I wanted to do something, I needed to do it right away. Once I got to a certain point, I would have to be hospitalized, or at least have a home nurse. Until then, I wanted to get as much out of this life as I could. And that meant letting Baker in and taking a chance.

“Vegas?”

“Yeah. I always wanted to go, but money has always been tight for me, paying for treatments and whatnot. So I want to go
, you know, before
I
go,” I grinned.

“Well then
,
hell yeah! Let’s go
.
”
H
e pulled me into a hug and lifted me up, swinging me around the living room. I laughed with him, unable to do anything to stop my growing feelings for him. He was perfect for me, exactly what I needed at this point in my life.

“I have to pack,” I told him and he put me down.

“My bags are already in the rental car. I’ll just watch you pack,” he suggested, taking my hand and leading my up the stairs.

He pushed open my bedroom door and flung himself sideways on my bed. He picked up a magazine I left on my nightstand and flipped through it, hardly paying me any attention. I stood there, staring at him like a fool for several minutes.

“What are you doing?” He finally looked up at me. “Get packing!” He cracked an invisible whip at me and made a
whippish
sound. Then he turned back to the article he was reading. A man who read magazine articles. Insane.

I turned away from him and pulled my duffel out of the closet. I packed jeans, shorts, tanks, and tees. I threw in a few pairs of socks, and then eyed Baker nervously before pulling open the drawer where I kept all my lingerie. Many of the items inside were see-through, lacy pieces that revealed more than they covered, but something told me Baker would appreciate them.

His attention was focused solely on the magazine so I stuffed several teddies into my bag, along with the matching panties. He would definitely appreciate my effort. I pulled out a pair of jeans and laid them on top of the delicates, just in case he decided to look up. I went into the guest bathroom and grabbed my straightener, body wash, shampoo, and conditioner. I set everything on the end of the bed and then picked up my travel
makeup
bag out of the closet. I placed all my hair stuff into it, running back to the bathroom for bobby pins, my hair brush, and anti-frizz serum. Once I had everything set, I moved on to shoes.

When I left LA for Maine last month, I left most of my designer shoes with Brittney, since there weren’t many places to wear four-inch heels in Maine. Vegas, however, was a different story. I could easily get away with heels there
;
plus, Baker was way taller than me, so I wouldn’t tower over him. It was win-win. I picked four pairs, figuring that any
more wouldn’t be necessary and any less would cause me serious problems when dressing myself while we were there. I carefully placed them in the duffel bag, making sure the heels wouldn’t snag any of the teddies.

Baker turned to me as I zipped up the duffel. “Ready?”

“Almost. I just have to go through a few more things,” I told him.

“Ok
ay
, well I’m going to go make the reservation. Come downstairs when you’re ready
.
”
H
e tossed the magazine back on my night stand and got up. He planted a quick kiss against my lips a
nd then waltzed out of my room without a glance back at me.

I stared after him for a full thirty seconds before I shook myself. I needed to pack at least one sexy dress. Maybe two. I turned to the closet and realized my wardrobe was hardly acceptable. I flipped through each dress, discarding it for one reason or another. I was dissatisfied with every dress I owned. All I wanted was something black, sleek, and clingy. The ones in my closet were flowy and vibrant. I sighed.

Maybe Aunt Brittney would have something along the lines of what I wanted.
Aunt Britt!
I needed to call her and let her know that Baker and I were taking off. I pulled out my cell and dialed her work number.

“This is Brittney,” she answered.

“Hey, Britt. It’s Rainey.”

“I figured you and Baker would be hot and heavy by now,” she laughed.

I shook my head. “No, not exactly. He actually wants to take me to Las Vegas,” I started. “He asked me what I wanted to do, kind of like a bucket list, and I’ve always wanted to do Vegas.”

“That sounds great! Have fun, kiddo! You’ll be back in what – a week?”

“Yeah, I think so. Hey, can I borrow a black cocktail dress for the trip?” I asked hopefully.

“Of course. Go raid my closet! Lord knows I won’t be needing them any time soon
.
”
S
he emitted another laugh and then turned serious. "Are you safe with him, Rainey? If something happens, will he be able to take care of you?”

I thought about it for a second. “Oh
,
yeah. He was handling me with kid-gloves before he even knew about the leukemia. I would say it’s going to be a mellow time in Vegas. And I trust him
,” I told her.

“Good for you. Don’t let him go, girl. Not many men would stick around and watch you fade out of their life. But anyway,” she said with a lighter tone. “Have a great weekend and shoot me a text or two while you’re gone so I know you’re okay. Love you!”

“I will. And I love you, too, Britt,” I told her. I clicked off and tucked my phone back in my pocket
, then
hefted my duffel over my shoulder and picked up my
makeup
bag off the bed. I made my way downstairs and noticed through a window that Baker was outside on the small front porch, on his phone. I dropped my bag
s by the door and went into my aunt’s bedroom.

It was a first-floor master suite, with an amazing master bath. The décor was br
ight, just like the guest room. I pulled open the door to her walk-in closet and just stood there, staring at the wide array of clothes encased inside. She was one of those women who bought clothes and then never wore them. From the doorway, I could count at least ten articles of clothing with tags on them. And that was just what I could see. I entered the closet and moved to the back, where she kept her dresses.

Britt’s OCD meant that all her clothes were put into sections by the piece of clothing and then further organized by color. She had no less than twenty black dresses, and they were ordered alphabetically by designer. It was sickening and amazing, all at the same time. I went through each dress individually, analyzing them one-by-one, trying to decide which one would drive Baker the
craziest.

When I came across one that had a low scoop-neck line to show off plenty of cleavage and a short hem, I knew I’d found the one. The shoulder straps were about two inches wide, which would leave my arms bare. It was perfect. I gingerly pulled the t
ag out and realized there was still a price tag on it. I almost didn’t want to look, didn’t want to see how much money Britt paid for this scrap of cloth.