As soon as he sees me, he comes bounding over to check on me, nudging me with his nose. I give him a cuddle while Eros retreats down the hall, returning a few moments later with a bottle of water.
I open it up and take a sip while he watches.
“You didn’t get your dinner,” he says. “Are you hungry?”
I shake my head. I am a little, but mostly I’m just tired.
“Let’s get you cleaned up then.” He holds out his hand.
“It’s okay, I really have to pee,” I blurt awkwardly. “So I’ll do it.”
He gives me a stiff nod, and it feels like something has shifted, but I’m not sure what. He seems more withdrawn, but maybe he’s tired too.
I pad to the bathroom, clean myself up, and wrap up in a bathrobe before I brush my teeth and wash my face. I’m in the middle of applying moisturizer when there’s a knock at the door. I ease it open to find Eros holding a familiar pink pajama set. It’s the one I wore when he surprised me in my bedroom, and he couldn’t keep his hands off me.
Apparently, he likes them.
A flush creeps over me when he thumbs the cat ear on my headband. I wear it to wash my face, but I wasn’t planning for him to see it.
“Hi, kitty cat,” he murmurs.
“Hi.” I give him an awkward smile. “I’m almost done.”
He hands me the pajamas with a nod, and after a few minutes, I return to the bedroom.
I find him sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. Beppe is pressed against his leg, offering Eros the same support he gives me.
He’s a naturally empathetic dog who notices subtle shifts and responds to physiological and emotional cues. Whatever’s going on with Eros right now, Beppe is aware of it.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
Eros presses a gloved hand to the back of his head and releases a rough exhalation. “Yeah. Come to bed.”
He pulls back the covers, and I get inside and plug my phone in, but he doesn’t join me.
His body has gone rigid, something tense settling in the air.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I just need to sit here for a few minutes.”
“Tell me what I can do to help,” I offer.
“Gabi, please just go to sleep. You’re tired.”
There’s a bite in his voice I’m not used to. For whatever reason, this is a conversation he’s not willing to have.
I close my eyes and lie there in the silence, but sleep doesn’t come. Eventually, I hear a sharp intake of breath, and the mattress shifts as he rises to his feet.
When I open my eyes, I see him stumbling forward, bracing himself against the wall.
“Eros?” I toss the covers back in a panic.
“Don’t,” he grits out.
The ferocity in that single word makes me freeze, and it confuses me.
“What’s going on?”
