MY ROOMMATE REMEMBERS MY DREAMS

Every night I dream about the man I live with, the two of us tangled together. It started when he moved in. That's my secret.

Until I saw the comments saying he was sharing the dreams with me. But the comments also said he already had someone he'd fallen for.

That every time he dreamed of me it disgusted him to no end. That he woke up and had to scrub himself down a few times before the revulsion would go away.

To get out of the dreams I stayed up all night, not daring to sleep, and didn't close my eyes until it was light out.

But the second I dropped into the dream, he was on me. "Baby, I've been waiting for you all night…" Chapter 1 That familiar dream again.

This time Dashiell was even more possessive than usual. I didn't wake up until two in the afternoon. There was a thin film of sweat on my back. The sheets had gone damp.

Staying up all night really does run your body down. Even after eight full hours in the daytime, I was still exhausted. Limp all over, like something fished out of the water.

I got out of bed, opened my door, and headed for the bathroom. The light was on, the frosted glass door clouded over with steam. I was about to back into my room. The door opened.

Dashiell came out in a robe. One thought of what happened in the dream and I didn't dare meet his eyes.

Comments drifted past my eyes, line after line. [Dashiell couldn't sleep last night either.

He was up thinking about the female lead.] [He finally got to sleep at dawn and ended up sharing a dream with the side character again.] [He's so grossed out he went straight to the shower the second he woke up.] I froze for a beat, then stole a glance at him before I could stop myself.

That handsome face. No matter how many times I saw it, it still made my mind go blank for a second. His robe was closed up tight. Tighter than strictly necessary.

Three months of living with Dashiell. Day to day he was cool and quiet and kept a careful distance. In the dreams he was the exact opposite. Filthy mouth, bossy, all over me.

I'm an independent designer of original merchandise. I rented an old twostory brick building on Cloudhaven Lane. The streetlevel storefront was my shop.

I sold my own designs there, and I took design commissions. The space behind the storefront, the second floor, and the walled yard out back were where I lived.

The land behind Cloudhaven Lane used to be empty. Wilde Group turned it into the Wildprospect retail district. The construction was finished now; they were signing tenants.

Three months ago, the owner's son got sent over by his father to keep an eye on the project. He didn't want a hotel. He wanted my building.

And all of Cloudhaven Street, all of Wildprospect, the whole Heron Point district. Every bit of it belonged to the Wildes. Dashiell was, technically, my landlord.

I run a little shop. I wasn't about to get on the wrong side of the owner's son. There was an empty guest room upstairs, so I cleared it out for him. Word was he wouldn't stay long.

Three months at the least, six at the most. After he moved in, he waved a hand and wrote off a year of my rent. My rent was twentyfour thousand dollars a year.

As far as I was concerned, I'd gotten a deal. Comments drifted past my eyes, line after line. [The side character only sees what's right in front of her.

She has no idea how much more she's going to lose.] [Dashiell has a match lined up — Portia Milbank. The families have talked about tying the businesses together.

She's the female lead of this book.] Chapter 2 I froze. Portia Milbank was the female lead of this book? I knew her. A month earlier a customer had come into my shop.

My employee said she'd asked for the owner specifically. Portia and I met at the coffee shop across the street. She said she admired my designs.

She'd invested in a coffeeandmerchandise shop over in Wildprospect, and she wanted an exclusive line of original designs from me. I'd spent the last month drawing.

The designs were finished. I was about to set up a meeting to show them to her.

The comments kept flooding past. [Portia doesn't even know Dashiell is living with Odette.] [If she found out she'd be so jealous.] [Living together is one thing.

Odette and Dashiell share a dream every single night.] [They're more intimate in there than actual couples are.] [Portia would never accept that.] [When she finds out she'll pull the contract with Odette for sure.] [And the thing is, Dashiell is perfectly happy with the match.] [They want each other, and the families are an even match.] [Odette better stay away from the male lead or she can kiss her shop goodbye.] [Wildprospect is Dashiell's wedding gift to his future wife.] [Odette's lease is up in a year.

Portia will have her out.] I had poured everything into that shop. Every plant in that yard, I'd tended myself. When I first moved in, there was a dead tree out there.

I did a lot of reading and found out it was a Cloudhaven, twentyseven years old. The street was named after the tree.

Under my care, three months ago, the Cloudhaven finally bloomed.

Clusters of white flowers like clouds, the branches reaching all the way to the windows of both bedrooms on the second floor. At night I fell asleep with the scent of them.

In the morning I stood at the window and watched the petals come down like snow, and it put me in a good mood. Three years in, that yard was my home. The place I'd landed for good.

I couldn't stand the thought of losing it. If Dashiell already had a match, already had someone who wanted him back, then I'd keep my distance.

I was going to find out why we were sharing dreams and cut it off. I went into the bathroom. I'd just shut the door. Dashiell knocked. "Odette.

I left my watch in there." I looked at the counter. A rare limitededition Rolex, lying there like it was nothing. That watch was worth five hundred thousand dollars.

Far too expensive for me to touch. If I dropped it, ten years of work wouldn't cover it. I opened the door. "Come get it." Then I backed up against the wall and waited.

Dashiell came in, picked up the watch, and put it on. I looked up and caught him studying me in the mirror. His eyes were like a cold wet pool with my reflection in them.

In the dream, I'd stared into the reflection in his eyes too. Sinking. Losing myself… The second our eyes met, my face went hot again. I asked quietly, "Are you done?

I want to shower." The words felt familiar as soon as they were out. I asked him this a lot in the dream. "Are you done?

I'm tired…" And he'd put his mouth against my earlobe and say, teasing, "No." I used to think the dream was only mine. Now that I knew he saw all of it too, I wanted to disappear.

Chapter 3 It felt like someone had been peeking at my secret. Dashiell turned and came toward me, his eyes on my burning ears. "What are you thinking about?

Your ears are red." "Nothing," I stammered. "It's nothing." He raised his hand. I thought he was going to touch my hair. He picked a petal out of it instead.

I like sleeping with the window open. Cloudhaven petals blow in all the time. He lifted the petal to his nose and breathed it in. It did something to me. Left an itch under my skin.

Thankfully he didn't stay. He walked out. I showered and went downstairs. The living room smelled like food. "Come eat," Dashiell said.

Living together, when I had time I cooked, and I made enough for him. When he ordered delivery, he ordered for me too. "Okay." I went over and pulled out a chair.

Maybe it was knowing about the shared dream, but things were awkward between us today.

I was almost done when my employee called. "Odette, that customer from before, the one named Milbank. She's here.

Can you come over when you get a chance?" Portia? "Be right there," I said. I finished the last bite on my plate. "I have to go over to the shop." "Okay." Dashiell nodded.

The shop and the house were attached, but they had separate doors. By the time I got there, Portia had been waiting a while. Everything about her said money.

Her eyes went to the shop name behind the register. "Ms. Copeland, your shop is called Wildperch.

Is there a meaning behind the name?" I had trademarked Wildperch five years ago, my junior year of college. There wasn't any deep meaning to it.

I went camping on a mountaintop once, and I was looking out at the flowers covering the slopes, and those two words came into my head.

I'd wanted my own brand since college, so I registered it early. After I graduated it became the name of the shop. "No reason," I said. "I just made it up." Portia let it go.

She stepped outside and stood at the door, looking toward the yard. "That white flowering tree in your yard is beautiful." There was something behind the way she said it. "Can I go in and take a picture?" Comments drifted past. [Portia's already starting to suspect Odette has a thing for Dashiell.] [Dashiell posted on Instagram a few days ago — that shot of the Cloudhaven tree, taken from the guest room window.] [Portia saw that photo and checked every hotel in the area.

Couldn't find the tree anywhere.] [And today she stumbles right into it.] [If she walks into that yard right now she'll catch Dashiell clearing the table.] [That would be good.

The side character is about to get put in her place by the female lead.] I turned her down politely. "Ms. Milbank, that's private space. I'd rather not." Her smile froze.

After a moment she said, slowly, "Do you know who owns this building?" "No," I said mildly. "I went through a leasing agent." Getting this place had not been simple.

The agent had taken me to a different building nearby. I didn't want it. Then we passed this one and I knew on sight.

Chapter 4 The agent said the building had sat empty for years and the owner had no intention of renting it out. I wouldn't let it go.

I asked her to get in touch with the owner and ask again whether he'd consider it. It paid off. She got the deal done. I didn't really know who the owner was.

I'd only heard vaguely that this whole area belonged to the Wildes.

It wasn't until three months ago, when Dashiell said he'd be staying here a few months, that I knew for certain the building was in his name.

A faint smile spread at the corner of Portia's mouth. "It belongs to the Wildes. And I happen to be on good terms with their heir…" "But if Ms.

Copeland doesn't want me back there, never mind." Then she turned it. "Let's go across the street and talk about the project. Are the designs done?" "They are.

Go on over and wait for me. I'll get the drafts and bring them." Portia nodded and went into the coffee shop across the street.

Back inside, I came through the living room just as Dashiell finished clearing the table. Kind of husband material, actually. But he had someone lined up.

Him living here wasn't right. The house was his, though, and I couldn't make myself ask him to move out. All I could do was hope he'd finish up at the district and leave early.

I came out of the downstairs office with a stack of drawings. And walked straight into Dashiell at the corner.

The drawings went everywhere. "Sorry, I wasn't looking." I stepped back and crouched to pick them up. We reached for the last one at the same time.

Our fingers touched and I pulled back like I'd been shocked. He handed it to me. "These are stunning." "Thank you," I said politely.

Across the street, Portia was waiting for me at the coffee shop. I handed her the drawings. She went through them one by one, and something lit in her eyes.

Six themes, thirtysix pieces. "Ms. Copeland, you're genuinely talented. These will sell out the second they hit shelves." "Anything you want changed?" I asked.

Portia took out her phone. "I have a partner on this. My brother. Let me send him some pictures." I hesitated. "Ms. Milbank, the balance hasn't been paid yet.

I'd rather these weren't photographed. I hope you understand." Portia laughed. "You don't trust me? I paid the deposit and we signed a contract.

The minute my brother says the drawings are fine, I'll pay the rest." "This project is only the beginning. I'm going to be a major longterm client for you." There was a contract.

She wasn't going to breach it. "All right." I let go. Portia took the pictures and sent them to her brother. A minute later she said, "He wants some changes.

He'll send notes after his meeting, and I'll forward them to you. Then we'll settle the balance." "Okay," I said. She stood. "I have somewhere to be." "Sure.

Bye." I gathered up the drawings and walked her to the door. I went back to the yard. Dashiell was on the couch under the Cloudhaven tree, making tea.

Some afternoons I sat out there and made tea too, the two of us just sitting quietly. Chapter 5 He'd handle work on his phone and I'd draw at the tea table.

Today I had no intention of sitting down for tea. I went straight up to my room. A few minutes later the comments came pouring past. [Portia came back.

She's knocking on the yard gate.] I got to the window just in time to see Dashiell open it. Portia stood outside the yard, and the two of them seemed to be talking.

Too far away for me to hear. Too late after all. She knew. Portia looked up and saw me standing at the master bedroom window. Our eyes met. Hers were full of complicated things.

Shock, disappointment, and jealousy about to spill over. She didn't come into the yard. Not long after she left, her text came through. [Ms. Copeland.

I had no idea you were living with Dashiell.] [You've disappointed me.] [We're done working together.] I called her to explain. "Ms. Milbank, I don't know what you and Mr.

Wilde are to each other, but he and I aren't what you think. We're only sharing the place for now