After the kitchen is clean, I scoop her into my arms. She giggles and tries to wiggle free, but I don’t let her.
Holding her close to me, I carry her upstairs to the bedroom, where I tuck her in and slip beneath the covers next to her. My hands reach for her beneath the blankets, pulling her back against my chest, letting her curl up against me as I wrap my arms around her and hold her close.
She wiggles into me, snuggling closer as we lie together. The heat from our bodies merges. The world goes quiet and peaceful. I breathe a heavy sigh of contentment and relief. I’m so relieved I talked to her about it instead of leaving it to fester.
Neither of us speaks much, and I listen to her breathing changing, feel her body relaxing, and her heartbeat slowing down until she’s fast asleep. This is what she needed from me. Support. Comfort. It’s the smallest gestures that mean the most to people.
I don’t let go of her, keeping her close to my heart, as I fall asleep as well.
All she needed was support. Not my doubt, not my worry. She just needed me to be there for her.
***
It’s late in the morning when I wake up. I haven’t slept that well in a long time, and I wake up so comfortable and warm that I wish I could just fall right back asleep again.
Kat isn’t next to me, but that isn’t a surprise. She leaves early for the studio. She would have snuck out quietly without waking me. I wish I could have snuggled against her now. In fact, she should have taken the day off and stayed in bed with me.
It would’ve been good for her.
I stretch my legs out beneath the blankets and groan as my muscles flex, easing the last remnants of sleep from my body. Outside, I can see the sun glowing warmly over the garden. It’s going to be a beautiful day; it already is. Glancing at my watch, I see it’s half past nine. Wow, I really did sleep well.
The blankets fall off me as I slip out of bed, stretching again when I stand up.
The house is quiet but bright with morning light as I make my way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. I’m smiling, thinking about how intimate last night was. Of course, I wanted to make love to her. I wanted to touch her, to taste her. But last night was special in its own way. It was deeper.
Flicking the coffee machine on, I fuss around the kitchen, grabbing a mug and fetching the milk from the fridge while I wait for it to warm up.
When I spot my phone on the kitchen counter, I pick it up, with the intention of sending her a sweet good morning text to brighten her day. I wake up thinking about her, and she should know that. It’s time I start really showing her what she means to me.
But there are a few notifications on my phone from the security guards at the studio that immediately grab my attention, piquing my anxiety.
Katerina did not arrive at the studio this morning.
They are just checking in with me to see if she is coming in today and if they need to be there.
I press the button to call back, my hands almost shaking while I wait for the head of security to answer.
“It’s me, is she there?” I blurt out.
“No, sir. She isn’t at the studio, that’s why we…”
“Did she get there and then leave, maybe? To grab a breakfast or something?”
“No, sir, we’ve been here since six this morning because she usually arrives between half past six and seven. She hasn’t been in at all today. It’s almost ten now.”
“What in the world….” I mutter to myself, my stomach churning with anxiety. If she isn’t there, where is she?
“What do you want us to do?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I need to try and figure out where she is. Leave one guy on duty there just to keep an eye out for her. The rest of you scout the building, the parking lot…”
“Alright, sir. Will do.”
I end the call with the knot in my stomach tightening.
What time did she leave the house? Where did she go? It could be something so simple—it could be that she only woke up a little while before me and left much later than I thought. She was exhausted. Maybe she also slept late?
I pull up the mansion security footage on my phone and scroll to the front door feed, clinging onto any hope that I’m right. My fingers brush over the trackpad, scrolling back in time until I see Katerina leaving.
