Daniel’s voice cut in gently. He blinked a few times, smiling up at me like he’d just emerged from a dream. Maybe he’d forgotten our daily fights for the moment. Or maybe he’d forgiven them.
I blinked, realizing it was light out. Dark gray clouds pressed against the sky, announcing a shift in the weather.
“Nothing,” I said too quickly and stood up. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“So you watched me sleep?” He was still smiling, teasing in a soft, sleepy voice.
I managed to smile back, even as everything inside me spun like a tornado. When he reached for my hand, I let him take it. He tugged and pulled me down onto the bed so that I fell right on top of him.
“I don’t want to fight anymore,” he whispered.
“Me neither.”
A brief silence hung in the air between us. The bedroom carried the faint trace of his expensive aftershave. My heart was racing.
“Then let’s leave,” he said. “We can just pack up and go back to our lives.”
For a second, I agreed. It sounded easy. Safe.
Running again suddenly felt like the best idea in the world.
But then I pictured that basement. Me talking to Cynthia as if she were real, then answering as if I were myself again. The image made me sick. Physically sick. Not because I thought people with schizophrenia or dissociative identity disorder were bad or less human, but because of what it could mean forme. A psychiatric hospital. Losing Daniel. Watching my life slip through my fingers. And worst of all, hurting an innocent animal.
But then, even if we left, things wouldn’t just go back to normal. There was either a woman living in that basement by choice, or a woman living inside my head.
Either way, it wasn’t okay.
“What if we stay another week or two?” I offered. “Then we reevaluate. I just...need a little more time here.”
He pushed himself upright, his shoulders lifting as if a weight had come off them. Relief washed over his face.
“You’re finally willing to leave the Breakers?”
It would buy me time to dig a little deeper. And I said we’dreevaluatein a week or two. This wasn’t a blood oath. But yeah, after last night, I was open to running again.
So I nodded.
He kissed me—passionately, like he meant it. It was the kind of kiss we used to share before the days turned sour and every conversation became a fight.
Then he stood up. “I’ll make breakfast,” he said, stretching as he walked toward the bathroom.
“Where’s Tara?” I called after him.
“She took the week off,” Daniel shouted from inside.
“Good for her,” I called back, trying to sound happy. But, of course, my mind twisted immediately. Was it because of me? Was she afraid of the psychotic person?
“Eggs. Sausage. Fruit. And I think I saw English muffin dough in the freezer,” Daniel said as he stepped out briefly, toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. “Would that please Her Ladyship?”
I smiled. “I’ll go ahead and make some coffee.”
“Don’t youdare!” he mumbled through a mouthful of foam, pointing his toothbrush at me like a warning. “Breakfast in bed!”
Then he disappeared again. Water started running. I listened to it for a moment before dropping a bomb.
“I think I’ll call my mom today.”
The faucet cut off. A pause. Then he stepped out, still smiling.
