“You’ve always been a picky eater and I didn’t want you to faint. I’d…” His jaw squared. “I’d have nightmares about it.” Lacing my fingers through his, I said, “I’m sorry. I wish I were in your dreams, not nightmares.” “Don’t worry, sweetheart, you star in both.” He pushed a hand into his hair. “My dreams. My nightmares. My fantasies. The only place you weren’t in was the place I wanted you to be most.” “And where was that?” “My reality.”
