As I expected, the night's sleep is a total bust. Some of the most unsleep-like sleep of my life. A kind of sleep where I spend more time trying to find a comfortable position, one without a foot or an elbow lodged in my stomach or spine, than I do in an actual REM state. And if I do find myself comfortable, with my head flat against the mattress because the toddlers have commandeered all the pillows, then I'm being shaken awake by a sleepy Sofia asking me to take her to the bathroom.

     The only bright side is that the kids get up at the crack of dawn and slide out of bed, stalking out of the room to bother their parents. Once they leave, I take that small window before everyone else wakes to catch up on as much sleep as I can. Which isn't much.

     I'm in some sort of hazy state, not a full sleep, but the closest I'm going to get to it. I can fully hear everyone outside my bedroom, can even smell breakfast cooking, but I choose to ignore it, forcing my eyes to remain closed and my mind to stay put in my dream.

     I like this kind of sleep, where I'm just conscious enough to control what's happening. Naturally, I'm with Dres. We're at some lake my mind has imagined. There's a fire crackling at our feet and I'm leaning against him and this mossy log. I'm warm all over, heat radiating down my back from the fire and from Dres, too.

     He leans down some and noses at my jaw, lingering long enough to leave a soft kiss below my earlobe. I make a quiet humming noise, tipping my head so he'll continue. He smiles and kisses me again, leaves a splay of them along my jawline and neck. My mouth parts around a soft sound, and I grapple for him, trying to turn my body towards his, but his shoulder is planted against mine, keeping me in place.

     Okay, seriously, my dream, my rules.

     I try again, but my body remains planted like I'm glued in place.

     I give up, going slack against him. Dream me is a decidedly way more compliant me. Anyway, I'm not going to complain about Dres kissing me, in dreams or reality. I let him trail his tongue down the line of my neck till he stops at the top of my shirt. Okay, seriously, why am I wearing a shirt? Is dream me trying to protect my virtue? Dres laughs like he hears my complaint and agrees with it, the sound vibrating through my jugular.

      I want to reach out towards him but my arms are lead. He turns my chin towards him, kisses me soft and careful on the lips like I'm sleeping beauty and he's trying to wake me. I've definitely lost all control of this dream to my subconscious, who clearly wants to keep this shit PG. Dres brushes his lips against my cheek, moving to my ear.

     He whispers, strangely close and distinct for a dream, "This is lasting a lot longer than I thought it would." When he bites down on my neck, on that weird line of muscle below my ear, I am nearly certain that I am actually being bitten, outside of my dream, in reality.

     I gasp, a breath that starts in my sleep and ends with me awake and springing in some lateral direction, trying to distance myself from what I think may be a rabid animal or kinky murderer.

     I am something horrified when I orient myself and find Dres beside me, grinning rather victoriously.

     I sputter, "But that — I thought — I thought I was dreaming. I was dreaming. Am I still dreaming?" I raise my hand to my neck. It's slick with Dres's spit. So. Not a dream. Honestly, my subconscious would never put Dres in my bed with his clothes still on. Unless my subconscious is a masochist (probably it is.)

     Dres says, still grinning, "You were dreaming about me?" I flop back in my bed, turn my head into my pillow, and groan. Dres looms above me. "You know you're much more responsive in your sleep." He raises an eyebrow like this is actually a question and not an observation.

     I'm still trying to put together how my brain thought all of that was a dream. I scrub my hands through my hair. "What are you doing in my bed? In my room? In my bed?"

     "Your bed or your room?" he asks, like none of this is unusual.

     I try to catch my breath as I sit up, tugging the blankets up over my lap, inconspicuously. I do my best not to think about my neck. "Both," I say, exasperated. "Please explain why you're in my – here."

     "Olivia sent me up here to get you moving. Her exact words." Those are my moms exact words. She uses them often. "Since it's eleven. And we were supposed to leave at eleven."

     "It's that late, already? I thought it was like nine. Also. I'm still not over this 'Olivia' development, like what? Also. We need to discuss you cavorting with my mom behind my back. Yeah, I know all about it and you got some serious explaining to do. Except, you know, not right now since we're in bed. God, you're in my bed. This is a lot for someone who's gotten maybe two hours of sleep total."

     "And yet, for someone who's gotten two hours of sleep, you are still just as talkative."

     I glare at him, manage to keep that expression for all of two point five seconds before I realize, again, that Dres is in my bed. I feel like an amnesiac who keeps learning someone's name. My pulse races just under my jawline. I'm aching all over with need and want. I clear my throat. 

     "Okay, right, well you got me up so you can," I swallow, "you know, go back downstairs and I guess hang out with my mom since you guys are best friends or whatever."

     Dres looks at me like I am transparent. "Her exact words were 'get you moving.'" He gives me a look like he's not leaving till I get up.

     "Are you really gonna'...? Okay, you are. Wow, okay, fine. See. I'm getting up."

     I hesitate before turning my back to him and tossing the blankets off. I still have to walk in front of my bed to get to my bedroom door. Dres hasn't moved. I stand up, place my hands strategically in front of me, and start walking.

      "I'm going to shower," I say as I round the bed hoping he's not looking at me. He fully is, of course.

     "A cold one, I hope," he says cheekily.

     "Shut up." He laughs at me so I grab a pillow off the floor and chuck it at him.

     Still laughing, he says, "I'm flattered, really."

     "It's the morning, asshole," I respond because yeah, that works. That explains everything.

     When I get downstairs, the kids are in the living room watching TV and so is Dres. He's sitting in the armchair with Lily, who's standing on his knees smiling and giggling as he makes faces. I pause in the doorway to watch him with her, how his face lights up as she grabs his chin and squeezes with her tiny chubby fingers.

     Aunt Suki catches me there, and walks over. "Good morning sleepy," she says with a soft smile, mussing my hair.

     "Morning," I say, distracted.

     She follows my gaze. "He's so good with her."

     "He is," I say looking away.

     "He's good with you, too," she says without warning. I look at her, surprised by the admission. She leaves me like that, dumbfounded and reeling.

     I head into the kitchen cause that's where I'm sure to find my mom. Pop and Uncle Dan are sitting at the island when I walk in. Moms got her back to me as she pours creamer into a mug. "Morning," I say as I head straight for the platter of pancakes left by the stove. I take one and start eating it plain even though it's cold.

     "Nice of you to finally join the living," mom says shooting me a look.

     I say to Dan, "Love your kids to death. They are the worst people to share a bed with." Pop and Uncle Dan laugh. "So what's the plan for the day?" I look to mom because they probably really have no say in what they're doing. The women call the shots in the Sumner households.

     "We're driving up to Woodbury Outlets." I start to reach for another pancake but mom swats my hand away. "If you'd gotten up, you could've had breakfast. Everyone's waiting on you to leave. Grab a breakfast bar and get going."

     "Wow, this morning is the gift that keeps on giving." I grab a bar from the cabinet before trudging into the dining room where grandma is sitting with Amelia. "Good morning," I say leaning down to give grandma a kiss on the cheek.

     "Sleep well?" Amelia asks.

     "Not at all, actually," I respond with a laugh. "Maddox practiced karate in his sleep. I'm pretty sure my spleen is bruised."

     "Dres convinced me to stay over and his couch is the most uncomfortable piece of furniture ever. So I feel your pain. I'm definitely not doing that again."

     "I'm surprised he offered. He's so possessive of his space."

     "Oh, I know. I wasn't allowed to touch anything in his kitchen."

     I laugh. "That sounds more like him."

     Dres walks in then carrying Lily on his hip, Maddox and Sofia in tow. Grandma says, "I guess we better get moving. Long day ahead of us."

     "I'll drive," I say rushing out of the room to get my car keys before Dres can fight me on this. Dres follows, but before he says anything I go, "You always drive. I never drive. And my car has more room."

     His expression relents. I take a moment to stare at him, holding Lily. "What?" he asks, eyebrows raised questioningly.

    I shrug. "You're good with kids. Babies."

     He glances at Lily in his arms, face softening. "That surprise you?"

     It more than surprises me. It's like an oxytocin trigger. I can't stop imagining Dres with his own kids, with my kids, us as a family. It's driving me nuts.

     I clear my throat. This isn't something I'm about to tell him. Instead, I call Sofia and Maddox over. "Come on, guys. Get your coats."

     Rather begrudgingly, Dres hands off Lily to Suki and helps me get Maddox and Sofia into their coats and winter garb. Sofia is bouncing up and down excitedly and I can't help but I think I may need an energy drink, multiple really, to get through this day with them.