I punch the pillow into a better shape and close my eyes, but I can’t sleep.
My mind keeps circling back to Ledger. The way he stood beside me outside the restaurant. The way his security moved withouthim having to say a word. The way he looked at me in the car, like he was trying to figure out a puzzle.
The way I wanted to lean into him and let him hold me.
I barely know him. I married him, apparently, but I don’t remember it. Don’t remember what we talked about or why I thought it was a good idea or what it felt like when he touched me.
But my body remembers something. Because every time he’s near me, every time he looks at me, I feel this pull. This magnetic draw doesn’t make sense.
I grab my phone off the nightstand. 2:17 AM.
This is useless. I’m not going to sleep.
The room feels too hot and stuffy suddenly. The air conditioning is probably on, but it doesn’t matter. I need air.
I get out of bed and go to the balcony doors. They open easily, and the cold Chicago air hits me like a slap. It feels good.
I step outside and immediately see him.
Ledger is on the balcony next to mine. There’s a divider between us, but it’s low enough that we can see each other clearly. He’s leaning against the railing, still dressed in his shirt and pants from dinner, sleeves rolled up, tie gone.
He turns when he hears my door open. “Can’t sleep?” he asks.
“No.” I wrap my arms around myself. “You?”
“No.”
We stand there in the cold, separated by a three-foot divider, not saying anything.
“You didn’t really have to make our rooms this close,” I say finally.
He looks at me. “Yes, I did.”
“Why?”
“Because I have to protect you. Whether as your employer or your husband, I have to keep you safe.”
“Safe from what?”
“From people who might want to hurt you because of me.”
The way he says it makes my stomach drop. This isn’t theoretical.
“What kind of enemies do you have?” I ask.
“The dangerous kind.” He turns back to the city. “I’m sorry you’re caught up in this. You didn’t ask for any of it.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“But here we are.”
“Here we are,” I echo.
Silence stretches between us.
“Thank you,” I say. “For today. For security, not letting them get close to me.”
“You don’t have to keep thanking me.”
