Dream On(101)

“At least eight years,” I say.

“I was shocked when Brie called me last night. I can’t believe she didn’t tell me your story before now. If I’d have known, I would have invited you on the show weeks ago. This is seriously compelling stuff. People are going to love it.”

“Well, thank you for accommodating our request to film here.”

“No problem. It’s perfect, actually. The background is gorgeous and it really sets the scene. Gary here will fit you and your boyfriend for a mic, okay?” She waves at the shorter of the two crew members, who sidles up holding a tangle of wires and a small black box. He clips a small lapel mic to my collar, helps me run the wire inside my blouse down my back, and instructs me to clip the small box at the end to the waistband of my skirt.

Devin steps even with me just as he finishes with his own mic, Perry right behind him.

“Cass,” Perry murmurs, and my heart nearly breaks all over again. His hands are jammed into his pockets and dark shadows ring his eyes, like he didn’t sleep much last night. “Devin told me Brie finally convinced her mom to cover the event, but that she wants to do an interview with you and Devin?”

I shrug. “Yeah. It’s bananas, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I should probably go. Good lu—”

I grab his arm. “Stay. Please. I don’t think I can do this if you’re not here.”

He nods. “Sure. I’ll be cheering you on from the sidelines. Quietly, of course.”

Gary checks Devin’s mic, and gives the thumbs-up to Charlotte.

“All right. Let’s take our places, people,” she says.

“You got this,” murmurs Brie before stepping off to the side with Perry.

The cameraman shows Devin and me to our respective seats: Charlotte on the left, Devin in the middle, and me on the right.

As they do a sound check, I lean over and whisper in his ear. “Thank you so much for doing this for me.”

His lips quirk. “Like I said last night when you called, it’s not just for you. It’s for Perry too.”

“You’re sure you’re okay with this? Until yesterday, there was a chance you and I…”

He shakes his head. “I’ve known since the day we met with Councilman Truman it was never going to work out.”

“You did?”

“I mean, I’d hoped maybe you’d come around? But I’ve come to realize that we’re better off as friends. You’re an amazing person and I’m grateful for the time we spent together, but something about us just doesn’t—”

“Click,” I finish. “Just because we’re two good people doesn’t mean we’re good together.”

“Exactly. And come on.” He nudges me with his elbow. “I can see the way you look at Perry. You never looked at me like that. And you sure as hell never kissed me like that.”

Heat climbs up my neck and I look away. Time to change the subject. “Did you hear back from Sadie?”

“I tried calling her again last night and left her a voice mail, but she hasn’t called me back. I can’t believe what a monumental asshole I was to her, which I detailed at great length in my message.”

“Give her time.”

“Are you ready?” Charlotte interrupts us, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Devin and I exchange wry grins. “As we’ll ever be,” he says.

“All right then. If we could have quiet, please,” the cameraman shouts at the crowd of people. “We’re going live in five, four…” He holds up three fingers, then two, then points to Charlotte, who pastes a beaming smile onto her face.

“Good afternoon, Cleveland! This is Charlotte Owens, Channel Six, coming to you live from the Ohio City Flower & Beer Festival. I’m with local attorney Cass Walker and development manager Devin Szymanski, and they’re here to share a story of wonder, fate, and true love. So, Cass, you were in a car accident a year ago that landed you in a coma for six days, isn’t that correct?”

My heart hammers so fast I’m sure it’s pulsing visibly beneath my blouse, but I force myself to smile. “That’s right, Charlotte.”

“And while you were in a coma, you dreamed of this man here, Devin Szymanski. Except—here’s the kicker, folks,” she says directly to the camera, “you had never actually met him before?”

“Correct. Although he wasn’t only in my dreams. When I woke up, I remembered him, as though we knew each other well and had been dating for several months.”

“So you remembered going on a first date together, heartfelt conversations, months of getting to know each other?”

“Exactly. But that was over a year ago, and until this June I thought I’d imagined him—that he wasn’t real. I had no evidence to suggest he was. My doctors agreed. My case was even featured in a peer-reviewed journal article my neurologist wrote several months later titled ‘Coma-Induced False Memory Generation: A Case Study.’?”

“Except I am. Real, that is.” Devin winks at the camera, turning up the charm to eleven.

Charlotte blushes—actually blushes—at his smile.

“So tell us, what happened?” she asks Devin.

“We met for real in June. Cass had recently moved to Ohio City and stopped by my brother’s flower shop, Blooms & Baubles, the host of today’s Flower & Beer Festival.” He turns to the camera with a dazzling smile. “If you haven’t already, come on down to West Twenty-Eighth and Providence. The festivities will run until five this evening.” Charlotte’s lips thin in apparent annoyance. She probably doesn’t appreciate Devin hijacking her interview with his own personal ad, but she seems to let it slide.