She heard instantly how quickly he changed the subject. Her heart mourned for his loss.
“Umm, English, I think. At least most of my classes are in that basic area.” Laura loved
to read and one day she hoped to be a writer. Not for political reasons or anything like that. She loved reading romance and figured that would be the area in which she would write. A cliché career choice, but she was a firm believer in following her dreams.
“I love English. Are you thinking of becoming a teacher? An editor of some kind?” he asked.
Laura couldn’t believe how interested he sounded. Feeling stupid at her dreams, she shrugged her shoulders and went with the neutral ground.
“I don’t know. Picking a career choice that will last my whole lifetime seems a little hard.”
You liar!
“Really? I thought you’d have a career in mind by now. Throughout college I knew exactly what I wanted to become,” he said.
Laura leaned forward on her seat. “What did you want to become?”
“A writer.”
Her heart pounded. This was too big of a coincidence. She should be in her own romance novel. The man of her dreams wanted the same profession she did. How was that possible?
“So what are you?” she asked as her curiosity peaked.
Dean smiled and drank more of his coffee. The suspense was killing her.
“Tell me what you want to be,” he said instead.
“How do you know I want to be anything?” she countered.
“A hunch.”
Laura stared at the floor and thought over her decision. Dean would be the first person she’d told of what she wanted to be.
“All right, don’t laugh. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
She rubbed her hands over her thighs. “I want to be a writer.” The admission felt fantastic, like she’d just released a deep dark secret.
Dean didn’t laugh. He smiled. “Did that feel good?” he asked.
Laura nodded. Telling someone about her dreams helped. “Yes. How did you know?”
Dean placed his cup on the table and leaned forward. He pressed his hands together and rested his elbows on his knees.
“When I told my family and friends that I wanted to be an author, they all laughed. They said it was a pussy profession and that I didn’t have what it took to write good stories.”
“What did you do?” Laura asked.
“I proved them all wrong.”
Silence met his answer.
He had the most amazing blue eyes she’d ever seen, like the depths of the ocean. She shook her head to clear her thoughts.
“Are you telling me you’re a writer?” Her heart rate picked up. Not only because of being the love of her life, but also because of his admission.
“I’m a writer,” he confirmed.