12
Jasper
I wokeup with the earliest light of dawn and spent a full minute blinking at the ceiling because I didn't know where I was. There was a moment where I gazed at the hand-carved beams running along the midline of the ceiling and I believed I was in Texas. There was a hotel in Houston we favored for campaign stops that had beams just like that one.
It took that full minute to realize I wasn't in Texas. I wasn't on a campaign stop, and I wasn't married anymore. Not legally, at least. I hadn't been emotionally married since before Preston left for Northern Ireland. Since…ever, really.
I was single in all the ways that counted and I felt nothing. Nothing new, nothing different. Maybe this was numbness. I didn't feel anything because I couldn't feel anything, not because I'd already felt everything associated with this part of my life ending.
My gaze shifted away from the ceiling beam and settled on the rich blue wall. I had no memory of falling asleep on Linden's big sectional sofa but the pillow under my head and the heavy blanket tucked into the cushions around me said otherwise.
The morning after my divorce was finalized and the only thing I felt was disappointment Linden hadn't carried me into his bedroom instead of letting me sleep here. I'd always wanted to be scooped up and carried to bed, even if it was very unrealistic. There was no way I'd sleep through that sort of thing and even the most petite women turned into solid blocks of dead weight while they slept. Still, it would've been nice.
But this was better. Linden would've put me to bed only to post himself on the sofa and that would've erased all the carry-to-bed fun. This was better. Even if he'd snuggled in beside me and we'd rubbed up on each other in our sleep, this was better. No awkward tango getting out of bed come morning, no awkward conversation of definingthisand what it meant. Nothing awkward at all.
This was better. The sofa was better.
* * *
Somewhere between convincingmyself that sleeping alone on the sofa was preferrable to late-night spooning and debating whether it was time to sneak out and go home, I fell back to sleep.
It turned out to be the kind of dark, dreamless sleep that left your mouth feeling gummy, your eyes sandy, and your mind unfocused, almost as if you needed the day to recover from sleeping.
"What time is it?" I murmured to myself as I sat up. My body was not convinced that being upright was worth it.
"Ten forty-five." I swiveled in the direction of that deep voice, finding Linden seated at the kitchen table with papers spread out in front of him. "Figured you'd wake up when I started the bacon but that was eight thirty and you didn't stir."
"Oh. Wow. Sorry about that."
"You needed the rest. Don't be sorry."
I stood, folded the blanket, set it on top of the pillow. "Well. Thank you for letting me crash here."
"No worries." He flipped over a paper, tapped the end of his pen to his temple as he studied it. "You should do it more often."
I stared at him. "I should—what?"
He dropped the paper and pen. "Look, I'm not equipped for morning conversations. I can't talk at this time of day and—"
"That explains so much," I murmured. "If only you'd said something sooner."
"—you talk all the time, which is obviously a problem, but you should stay here more often. You can use the Wi-Fi and, you know, your crockpot won't short out my electrical system. It's better than spending the nights at Midge's place, especially after you've been painting. Can't be good to breathe all that in. You have to air those rooms out. And the hot water, for fuck's sake, Jas. I'm not gonna insist you do anything because god knows that will bite me in the balls but I think you should stay here. Every night. If you want. That's all."
"Not equipped to talk in the morning," I repeated. "Mmhmm."
"What was that?"
I shook my head as I retied my ponytail. "Have you eaten breakfast?"
He felt it necessary to look worried. "Please, Jasper. Don't bake anything.Please."
"No baking involved." I breezed past him to grab the shoes I'd left beside the door. "Just toasting. I'm gonna run next door and grab a few ingredients—"
"I have everything you'd need."
"Probably not." I stepped into one shoe, then the other. "I like a certain bread. Oh, and my avocados should be perfectly ripe."
He shouted something as I closed the door but I didn't worry over it. We couldn't have him overdoing it on the words. Not this early in the morning.
