She nods, and we climb into bed.I pull her into my arms, and she settles against me with a soft sigh, her back to my chest, fitting perfectly into the space like she was made for it.Her fingers find mine where they rest on her stomach, playing with them absently.Tracing the lines of my palm, threading through my fingers.The gesture is so unconscious, so comfortable, that it makes my heart ache.
“Luis is gone now,” she says quietly into the darkness.“For good.”
“Yeah.”
There’s a pause.Then: “So what happens now?”
I press a kiss to her neck, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, buying myself time.“Let’s talk about this later.Get some sleep.”
She doesn’t argue.Within minutes, her breathing evens out, and I feel her body relax completely against mine, her fingers going still around my hand.
But I don’t sleep.I lie there in the dark, holding her, listening to her breathe, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest.
Does she want out?Is that why she asked?Is she already thinking about how to end this arrangement cleanly, professionally, without making things weird between us?
The thought makes my chest feel hollow.
I should want out, too.I should be relieved that the charade is over, that I can go back to my normal life.Back to keeping people at arm’s length.Back to casual and uncomplicated and safe.Except I don’t want out.
I want this—her warm weight in my arms, her fingers tangled with mine, her soft breathing in the quiet darkness.I want my toothbrush next to hers and my clothes in her drawer and nights like this where we fall asleep together as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
When I saw Luis hurt her tonight, I didn’t react like a fake boyfriend doing a friend a favor.I reacted like someone who couldn’t breathe at the thought of her being in pain.Like someone who would do anything—anything—to keep her safe.
And that terrifies me.
But lying here with Eve in my arms, I can’t pretend anymore.I can’t tell myself this is just pretend or convenient or temporary.This is something else.Something bigger.Something I’m not ready to name yet can’t deny.
I tighten my arms around her, and she makes a small sound in her sleep, snuggling deeper into my embrace.My heart pounds in my chest, too fast, too hard.
I need time.Time to figure out how to convince her that this thing between us is real.That we work.That ending this would be absolutely idiotic.
I’ve negotiated million-dollar deals.I’ve convinced clients to take risks on unconventional campaigns.Hell, I once talked my way out of a speeding ticket by complimenting the cop’s choice of donuts.But somehow, the idea of convincing Eve Lopez that we should stay together feels more daunting than all of that combined.
This is the woman who once told me I was the most insufferable person she’d ever met.Who glared at me like I was something she’d scraped off her shoe for the first two months we worked together.Who made it abundantly clear that she’d rather eat glass than spend time with me outside of work.
And now I’m supposed to convince her that we’re good together?That what started as a fake arrangement has become something real?
I’m going to need a strategy.A good one.
The irony isn’t lost on me.The guy who doesn’t do relationships is now lying awake trying to figure out how to keep one.With the woman who used to hate him.
I just have to make sure she doesn’t end this before I get the chance to show her what we could be.
* * *
The morning lightfilters through the curtains when I wake up, and for a moment, I forget where I am.Then Eve shifts beside me, and everything from last night comes rushing back.
I turn my head to look at her.She’s on her side facing me, still in that oversized t-shirt she borrowed, her dark hair spread across my pillow.One of her hands is curled near her face, and even in sleep, there’s something guarded about her, like she’s protecting herself.But her lips are slightly parted, her breathing soft and even, and I want to reach out and touch her so badly it hurts.
I want to wake her up.I want to slide my hand under that shirt and watch her eyes flutter open.I want to hear that sound she makes when I kiss her neck.
But she needs the sleep after everything.And honestly, I need a minute to think, to figure out what the hell I’m doing.
I ease out of bed carefully, watching to make sure she doesn’t stir.She doesn’t.Just burrows deeper into the pillow with a soft sigh that makes my chest ache.Padding out of the bedroom, I close the door most of the way behind me, and I head straight for the coffee maker.
The coffee grounds are in the cabinet above the sink, filters in the drawer below.The routine of it gives me something to do with my hands while my mind races.I measure out the coffee, fill the pot with water, and hit the button.The machine gurgles to life.
I lean against the counter, staring at nothing while my mind races with repeated thoughts.When the coffee finishes brewing, I pour myself a cup, wrapping my hands around the mug.
