The Dream Is Not Over

Don't Let Me

I wake up earlier than usual, sitting up and looking at my surroundings. I'm in my bedroom with Lindsey curled up on top of the covers fast asleep. My eyebrows knit together in confusion. I distinctly remember not making it up the stairs and most likely falling sleep in the living room. Lindsey stirs and stretches an arm above his head, staying in that position.

"How is that comfortable?" I ask myself in a whisper, shaking my head. He's so cute when he sleeps and his body gets so warm. He was always such a cuddle monster in the mornings. I smile down at him, smoothing back a rogue curl from his forehead. He inhales deeply and stretches straight out. His eyes open slowly, blinking in the hazy light of morning.

"Good morning." he says, his voice soft from sleep.

"Good morning, Lindsey." I watch him try to wake himself up fully, sitting up beside me.

"I promise I didn't try anything."

I half laugh. "What?"

"That one time I was drunk...nevermind. I was just telling you I didn't try to take advantage of you while you were sleeping." He's still rambling, nervous and beautiful. He thinks I'm still mad at him. I should be but I can't resist him. "I was trying to be funny, but the more you have to explain a joke, the less funny it gets and it wasn't even funny to begin with."

"Shut up, Lindsey." I tell him, kissing his lips softly. "Would you like breakfast?"

"Uh, sure." I get out of bed and his wide eyes follow me. "Thank you." I hear his feet hit the floor as he scrambles to meet me. I'm already in the kitchen by the time he comes downstairs. I smile, knowing he's there in the doorway. The chair scrapes across the floor and he sits down. I look over my shoulder at him and laugh. "What?"

"Oh nothing, you just look so adorable, Linds." I bite my lip as he looks down and discovers why I'm laughing at him.

"Yeah, okay, just get it all out." he tells me. My otherwise manly, guitar god husband is wearing my Pepto-Bismol pink robe that he got me as a gift for Mother's Day a couple years back. It has about a hundred stars and crowns, with the words "queen of everything" written all over it. He stands up and turns around so I get the full effect. The sleeves hit at his forearms and it's teeny tiny on him. I cannot stop giggling, holding my stomach as tears escape the corners of my eyes. "Have you had enough?" He puts his hands on his hips and I laugh even harder.

"It looks like baby clothes, no, doll clothes!" He smiles wryly, standing before me for a couple more seconds. When I'm finally done, or I think I am, he runs upstairs to fling the thing off and find his own. He comes back and I have to stifle my giggles.

"Better now?" he asks and I nod, trying to concentrate on mixing the batter for pancakes. "I hate that thing" he mutters and I bite my lip.

"Why, because it stripped you of your manhood?"

"No." he says like a petulant child.

"Well, you bought it so you must have liked it."

"For you- and it was a joke. How was I supposed to know that the White Witch Stevie Nicks would actually wear it?"

"You bought it for me and I found it amusing. I am the queen of everything."

"You sure are" he says, kissing the top of my head. He looks at me for a long time.

"I hate when you stare."

"Sorry, you're just...gorgeous. I haven't been able to stop looking at you."

"You haven't been here to look at me. What are you even talking about?"

"We've already gone over this, Stevie."

"I know, I'm sorry. That was wrong of me."

"Apology accepted. Now can we talk about why you're so pretty?"

"I also hate suck-ups."

"I'm not sucking up. I try to look away but I can't. I'm sorry if that bothers you but you're absolutely stunning. It's like you're glowing."

"Hm" I chuff out as I set the pan on the burner and warm it up. "Pancakes are fine, right? I forgot to ask."

"Yeah." he says. He's still staring, not paying attention.

"So I'm glowing?" I ask, trying to engage him since that's apparently all that's on his mind.

"Yeah, you are. You're blindingly beautiful."

"No, Linds, that's the sun."

He chuckles. "Okay, Stevie." He drops his gaze to the  table, fiddling with his hands in his lap. I start cooking, looking over at him every now and then.

"The kids will be here later. Do you want to go out for dinner or should I cook?"

"You shouldn't even be cooking now. You're sick, remember?"

"I remember but I'm going to be okay. What I have is nothing compared to the man-cold. You would be on the edge of death."

"I'm sure I would be." He doesn't argue and I turn around to look at him.

"Linds?" His eyes drift upward slowly. "Are we going to be okay, at least for this weekend?"

"Yeah, we're going to be great."

"I really don't want to fight in front of them. I really want to make a good impression for Olivia. She's going to be part of our family soon and I..." I begin to cry unexpectedly. My emotions overwhelm me and I cover my face. He gets up from his chair immediately and hugs me. I inhale the delicious scent of his cologne and aftershave, a little wilted and dried down from the day before. My arms wrap around his waist.

"I won't fight with you. Reign me in if I say something. Don't let me."

"When do I ever?" I say, my voice muffled in the fabric between us. He chuckles, smoothing my hair. He holds me probably longer than he should. "I have to flip my pancake."

"I'm sorry." He pulls away from me like a scolded puppy and I wipe my tears with the sleeve of my pajama top. He resumes his spot at the table, head down.

"Thank you, Lindsey." My voice is quiet but deliberate.

His voice changes and I hope he's smiling. "Any time, angel."