What the Heart Wants by Kelli McCracken Page B

the roof of the vehicle. “Because we agreed to be their dates” —Layne made air quotes— “for the wedding.”
    “Christ,” Dylan mumbled. The muscles in his face tightened. “I forgot all about that. Man…” he paused, rubbing the tension from his temples.
    “What’s wrong with having a date to the wedding?” Layne asked, his grin more cheesy than a fondue bowl.
    “I don’t feel like socializing with some friend of Chelsea’s.”
    Layne tossed a stick of gum at him and laughed when it bounced off his forehead. Why did he deal with Layne’s crap?
    “Dude, you don’t have to marry her.”
    “I have a girl driving me crazy in my dreams…now I have to entertain this chick; someone who I am sure is completely unavailable, even if I were interested. Which, I’m not.”
    “I never said she was unavailable,” Layne griped as he shut the door. “In fact, I remember Chelsea stressing that when she asked us to do this.”
    “Guess my mind was elsewhere during that chat,” Dylan grumbled, running his fingers through his hair. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in anyone but …”
    “Cool, then you won’t mind if I have first dibs after the reception, even if I’m interested in your date?”
    “Do whatever you want. You always do.” Dylan’s gruff voice trailed as he turned his back to Layne. His back pressed against the hood of his SUV, soaking the heat from the engine into his aching muscles.
    God, did he need a vacation.
    “Man, you need to lighten up,” Layne urged. “You’re gonna be a big downer if you don’t get your head out of your ass.”
    Dylan hung his head, his dark hair shadowing his face from the sun. He didn't want to argue with Layne, especially when his best friend made a good point.
    “I know. I shouldn’t have agreed to be in this wedding. I’m not in the mood to celebrate anything.”
    “So your goal is to make everyone else miserable with you?”
    Dylan stepped away from the car. Even though his long bangs prevented him from seeing Layne’s face, he sensed his best friend’s concern.
    “I’m not trying to make anyone miserable.”
    “But you are. Look, I know you’re frustrated. Even sleep deprived, but you gotta snap out of this funk. At least for the weekend. You’re a performer. Put on your best show.”
    Dylan gazed up at him. “But this is not a concert. I’m not going before thousands of strangers. I’m going to be with people who know me. The real me. Not the performer.”
    Layne tapped his fingers against the hood. “The only person you need to perform for is your date. Pretend she’s the chick from your dreams.”
    “It’s not that easy,” Dylan said, forcing a chuckle from his throat. He raised his eyes upward, watching the clouds coast by. “If she were real—”
    “But she isn’t real,” Layne growled.
    “Don’t say that,” Dylan shouted. His eyes shot to Layne’s face. He clenched his jaw once the words flew out of his mouth. His lips parted. An apology on the tip of his tongue. Then he closed them and cast his eyes back to the church door.
    “It’s the truth, Dylan.” Layne slammed his hands against the hood. “She is a figment of your imagination. To let a real chick screw with you is one thing. But to let one who doesn’t exist is just crazy. You have to let this go.”
    “I’m fine,” Dylan said, closing his eyes.
    His chest deflated as he opened them, again. Holding onto the dreams was taking him down Isolation Road.
    Next stop. Crazy Town.
    His mother’s words from earlier crept into his head. The final two cards of his tarot reading. The Hanged Man. What had it meant? To let go of his fears and doubts. If he did, then the Two of Cups would come into play. The card of new relationships. A union so strong that two people would get lost in each other.
    Was it possible?
    Did such a woman exist?
    For him?
    Looking back at Layne, he nodded his head.
    “You’re right. I need to forget about her. Get on with