Page 20 of Secret Pucking Unicorn

He gives my hand another squeeze and then takes a small bite of my pie. He is the perfect person to share pie with because the end crust is my least favorite part, but he loves it. Ever since we were little kids, we shared pie like this. His siblings thought we were weird, but it worked for us and that’s what mattered. I reach over and get a bite of the brownie sundae. I’m glad we’re sharing.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever shared food with,” I say. Way to be random, Miranda.

Dec cocks his head. “What do you mean? You had breakfast with us this morning.”

“It’s been years, I think since graduation, I’ve shared food with someone. Of course, I’ve eaten meals with people, had pizza, but eating the same portion and sharing is something I never do. You’re it.”

I watch as he puts his bite of pie crust between his lips and drags the fork out of his mouth. There’s a bit of peanut butter filling on his upper lip and I’d give my left kidney to kiss it off. His blue eyes are contemplative as he chews.

“You’re the only person I share food with, too. I never thought about it. I guess it’s our thing.”

A warm glow spreads in my chest at the thought of having a “thing” with anyone, but especially with Declan. We finish our desserts and go back upstairs. Some of the team members bring gaming systems and players hang out in the rooms and have game nights. From the little I’ve seen, it seems like the Devil Birds are a cohesive unit. No wonder they have a winning record and are one of the top teams in the Paranormal Hockey League.

“You must be exhausted,” Dec says as we walk into my suite. The connecting door is still open and from the collection of players gathered in there, his suite must be one of the game rooms.

I shrug. “My body clock is all messed up. I slept well last night. I’ll probably get a few hours tonight, but most likely I’ll watch TV for hours before I doze off. I’m used to functioning on not much sleep while I’m traveling and then crashing when I get back to wherever I call home that month.”

“Would you mind some company?” Dec asks.

“That would be great. I’m going to change into something more comfortable. Be right back.”

I go into my room and change into a pair of knit shorts and my favorite t-shirt to sleep in. When I glance in the mirror as I’m putting my hair into a loose braid, I remember it’s one of Dec’s shirts from Cornell. The high school I graduated from and Cornell both share the “Big Red” slogan for athletics, so we swapped shirts on Christmas a few years ago as a joke. He probably never wore his. He’s much broader and more muscular now, it probably wouldn’t fit. But I wear the one he gave me all the time. It’s soft and faded with time and washing and the hem has come out in spots, but I love it. I debate if I should change, but decide to stay as I am. He’s probably not even going to notice.

Entering my room, I debate whether to leave the door open or close it. Leaving it open seems like the best choice. I don’t want anyone to think there’s something going on. What’s the saying? People with nothing to hide, hide nothing? Dec has grabbed the extra pillows and blanket from the closet and is sitting on the bed with his back against the headboard. Handing him a bottle of water and chips, I walk around to the other side and climb onto the mattress.

I pull the blanket over me and hold it up as an invitation for Dec to get under it, too. The few times I could visit him at Cornell, this is how we’d spend our time, snuggled under a blanket, looking at real estate listings for horse farms and daydreaming of the farm he’d have someday. Sometimes we’d watch superhero movies, and I’d call him Superman because of his resemblance to the actor playing the role. He’d blush and seem more like Clark Kent than the Man of Steel. But with all the muscles he’s packing now, it’s not a stretch to think he’s made of steel.

Since it’s the week between Christmas and New Year’s, the pickings are slim for programming. We end up watching some romantic Christmas movies. Well, Declan ends up watching them. Jet lag catches up to me and I drift off not long after the first one starts. I wake up a few hours later to the theme song for Murder, She Wrote. Dec is asleep, lying on his back with one hand resting on his chest. His long, black lashes kiss his cheeks, and he looks like the boy I remember from all those years ago. There’s a twinge around my heart. I slip out from under the blanket and use the bathroom. He’s still asleep when I reenter the room. I quietly shut the door to my bedroom and turn off the lights before sliding under the blanket and laying on my side with my back to Dec. I’m not sure I’ll be able to fall back asleep. I leave the TV on to watch a detective solve murders she probably committed and enjoy not being alone for once.

* * *

The sun is warm on my face as I sit here among the daisies and forget-me-nots. This is my favorite place in the world, a refuge when I need to get away. I love playing with the other kids, but sometimes it’s overwhelming. But I’m not a little kid any longer. I’m a woman. The black unicorn walking toward me across the field is not the colt I first met years ago. Now he’s a sleek stallion. Such a deep black he almost shines like a hematite stone. His silver horn gleams in the sun. I’ve missed him. I wish I could stay here with him forever, but I know I can’t. I try, but nothing ever works. He stops in front of me, as he always does. His brilliant blue eyes shine like sapphires. He’s like a living, breathing treasure chest, but he may as well be in a hole twenty feet deep because he’s always out of reach and I don’t have a map to get to him.

The annoyingly cheery chimes of the alarm I set on my phone go off and my unicorn is gone. Again. He’s always just out of reach. Groaning, I slap my hand around until I can grab my phone and hold it before my bleary eyes. Jabbing repeatedly, I finally hit stop and make it go quiet. I let my hand flop to the mattress as I try to gather the energy to get up and take a shower. I want to roll over and go back to sleep. Maybe I’ll dream of the unicorn again. It’s a dream I’ve had since childhood. Not every night, but at least a few times a year. I had it the first time as a ten-year-old girl in Ireland. The field of wildflowers was on the grounds of Declan’s home. There used to be a gazebo there, too. When Sophie insisted on playing wedding, her favorite game because she was the wedding planner and bossed everyone around, the gazebo is where Declan and I would stand as groom and bride while Sophie or one of their brothers performed the ceremony. I always had to be the bride since all the boys were Sophie’s brothers and Declan was always the groom because…I’m not sure why he was willing to pretend-marry me? He was the oldest? Whatever the reason, I’m glad he was the groom. He is the only person I ever wanted to marry. The sweet kiss he always gave me on the cheek made my heart flutter and my tummy flip. His brothers would have blown a raspberry or licked me or something else gross like that.

The ding of an incoming text has me holding my phone in front of my face. It’s a text from Dec. Not going to lie—it was much nicer waking in Declan’s arms yesterday morning in Spokane than waking to a text and a lonely bed in Colorado Springs, but it’s better than nothing.

Declan: Good morning. Were you going downstairs for breakfast or getting room service?

I have a stash of protein bars in my bag. I’ve learned to make sure I have stuff with me in case there isn’t other food available. I’m about to text him to tell him I’ll gobble up one of those, but my fingers hesitate above the screen. Rushing through breakfast feels like avoiding all those people downstairs, people I want to accept me, welcome me into their lives. It means I have to pretend to feel less for Declan than I do, but isn’t this why I’m here? To make friends, to make a life? Forgetting the granola bars, I type:

Me: Downstairs. See you soon.

The shower doesn’t wake me up as much as I need it to. Thank goodness we will be home for a bit after tomorrow. I am going to spend as much of it sleeping as I can. If I can clear up some of the sleep deficit I’m dealing with, it will be easier for me to hide my feelings for Declan.

Walking into the restaurant downstairs alone feels weird. It’s been a handful of days, but not having Declan by my side seems wrong. But Declan isn’t always going to be here. He’s going to go get his horse farm when he’s done playing hockey. My life is going to be here. Even when Declan is gone, I’m still going to have the friends I moved here to be near. New friends I’ve made. I can be without Declan and be fine. I have to be.

I take the seat next to Liam and say a general good morning to everyone at the table.

Liam gestures with his fork. “That carafe has hot water.”

In the middle of the table is a container with tea bags, I grab one and prepare a mug of tea.

“No shadow?” he asks.

“What?” I lower my tea bag into the hot water.

“Mac is usually trailing after you like a puppy dog. Or a guard dog. I’m surprised you’re alone.”

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