“And nothing’s been decided yet. But I wanted you to hear it from me first.”
9
ISABEL
The first night, we’d fallen asleep out of exhaustion. The second night, I had no idea what to expect.
We hadn’t talked about the sleeping arrangements. When we decided to go to bed, he’d simply climbed in beside me, and I’d let him. It felt natural. Safe. His hand on my stomach, and his body curved around mine.
Now, two nights later, my fear had faded and my exhaustion had lifted. I lay on my side of the bed—my side, like we’d already established sides—and listened to Kick breathe. He was on his back, one arm flung over his head, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off his skin.
I should sleep, but I couldn’t. I was too aware of the man lying inches away from me. Very, very aware.
When he shifted and his arm brushed against mine, I held my breath.
“You’re not sleeping,” he said quietly.
“Apparently, neither are you.”
Silence stretched between us. I could hear my own heartbeat, loud in the darkness.
“Is me being here okay?” he asked. “I can sleep in the other room if it isn’t.”
“No.” I answered too quickly. “I mean, yes. I want you here.”
His hand found mine under the covers, and he laced our fingers together. Just that. Just holding hands in the dark.
“Good night, Isabel.”
“Good night.”
I didn’t sleep for another hour.
When morning lightfiltered through the curtains, I woke to find myself wrapped around him.
At some point in the night, I’d rolled toward his warmth. My head rested on his shoulder, my leg was thrown over his, and my hand was curled on his chest. His arm was around me, holding me close even in sleep.
I should have moved. Should have extracted myself before he woke up and this became awkward.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I lay listening to his heartbeat, feeling his chest rise and fall. He stirred, and his arm tightened around me reflexively.
“Morning,” he mumbled, sounding half asleep.
“Morning.”
Neither of us moved. His hand slid up my back, then down again—a slow, lazy stroke that made my skin prickle.
“Did you sleep?” he asked.
“Eventually.”
He laughed softly. “Yeah. Me too.”
We lay there for another few minutes. I could feel his heart rate picking up, feel the tension building in his body. Feel my own pulse quickening in response.
Then his stomach growled, loud and insistent, and we both laughed.
