Dream Eyes

do it. Between you and me, is Girard his real name?”
    “Can’t tell you that,” Nick said. He sipped his champagne and lowered the glass. “I was sworn to secrecy on the subject. Now, if you want to discuss his tats—”
    “No,” Judson said. “I don’t.”
    “Pity,” Nick said. “Real works of art.”
    “I think it’s time to change the focus of this conversation,” Gwen said firmly. “Tats and names aside, Girard produced an absolutely gorgeous wedding. Of course, it helps that Abby and Sam are so perfect for each other. Look at the way they’re gazing into each other’s eyes. You can feel the good energy from here.”
    The waltz came to a slow, elegant stop. The crowd cheered when Sam kissed Abby. Then, abruptly, the musicians changed tempo, the signal that everyone was invited to dance.
    Nick put down his wineglass with grave deliberation. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to ask Girard to dance. He’ll probably give me some static because he’s very conscious of his responsibilities and position as the planner.”
    “Tell him I said that at a Coppersmith wedding, everyone dances,” Judson said, “including the wedding planner.”
    Nick flashed a brilliant smile. “Thanks. I’ll do that.”
    He glided away through the crowd.
    Judson took Gwen’s hand.
    “Dance with me, Dream Eyes?” he asked.
    “Certainly.” She let him lead her out onto the crowded floor. “I’ll even promise not to crash your dreams while we dance.”
    He pulled her into his arms. “You’re welcome in my dreams anytime.” He tightened his arms around her. “I love you, Dream Eyes.”
    “I love you, Judson.”
    The Phoenix stone on Judson’s hand burned with the heat of summer light and the fire of love.
    • • •
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