I sat up, wondering if everything that had happened with Josh the previous day had been yet another one of my ridiculous fantasy dreams—the most explicit one yet.

Then I froze.

Josh. Josh Grant.

He was fully dressed and seated at the table, reading something written on several sheets of A5 paper.

But that couldn’t be. Josh had knocked on the door before I could write a word yesterday.

As if sensing my confusion, Josh glanced up at me and started reading aloud, his voice cold as an icicle.

“…You have honored me with the privilege of serving you for two years, but this is where my political road must end. Today, I’m here to announce that I will not be seeking re-election. Nor will I run for Senate. I’ve been a good soldier for too long. It is time for me to walk my own path.”

Oh my gosh. Those words…they’re the same ones he’d said last night in my dream. Tell me I didn’t….

Josh broke off reciting the speech to growl, “You put it all in there. Every single private thing I told you. It’s in there.”

It is hard for me to trust—other people. But with you, Neisha….it’s easy.

The memory of his emotional words rose like bile in my throat. “Josh, I can only imagine how betrayed you feel. Let me explain…”

“You think I feel betrayed?” He slammed the A5 papers down on the table and stood up. “This goes beyond betrayal. You used me. Used what I said. For what? Some speech? Did you want to laugh behind my back and tell all your cronies on your side of the aisle about how you convinced me not to run?”

“No!” I answered, taking the quilt with me as I scrambled out of bed. “That’s not how my talent works! I just want you to be happy. But unfortunately, when I decide not to write a speech, sometimes my subconscious makes me write it anyway.”

I cringed and admitted, “This isn’t something I talk about with clients. Or anyone ever. But this isn’t the first time I’ve woken up to the speech I really wanted to write fully typed out. It’s just that it’s usually sitting on my computer where the client never has to see it unless I want them to. And even if I agree with every word I wrote for you, I would never have forced it on you. Not like this.”

Josh squinted at me. “Are you trying to tell me you sleep wrote this speech?”

“Um….” I tried and tried to come up with a better answer. But in the end, all I could say was, “Yes.”

Josh stared at me for a cold, hard beat.