Because if Sabrina can just leave without a word?
Maybe Nathan was right. Maybe I’m not as untouchable as I thought.
I drag myself out of bed, pull on the shirt from last night, and stare at the door.
And all I can think is—if she really left me, I’ll find her.
And when I do, she’s going to have to understand something I should’ve made clear from the start.
She doesn’t get to walk away.
Not from me.
The hollow in my chest is still raw when I hear it—the sharp click of the suite door unlocking.
I turn just as it swings open.
Sabrina steps inside, juggling a paper bag and two to-go cups, muttering to herself like she forgot I exist.
“…stupid, so stupid. Should’ve just left like I wanted. Who even knows if he drinks coffee? Or eats bagels? He probably has some fancy breakfast chef flown in every morning. God, he’s going to hate me. I suck at this whole wife thing.”
She kicks the door shut with her heel, still talking under her breath, completely oblivious that I’m standing ten feet away, watching her unravel.
Relief crashes through me so fast I almost laugh. The bed was cold because she left—but not because she left me. She just went out.
My lips twitch as I fold my arms, leaning against the wall.
She finally notices me, freezing mid-step. The flush creeping up her neck is instant, adorable.
“You’re awake,” she blurts.
“Clearly.” My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to, all the leftover panic bleeding through.
Her eyes drop to the bag in her hand. “I… uh… I got coffee. And bagels. I didn’t know what you like, so I just guessed, which was probably dumb—”
I push off the wall and close the distance between us in three long strides. Her words tangle into silence the second I take the cups from her hands and set them on the table.
“You left,” I say quietly, searching her face. “Ithought—”
I cut myself off before the truth slips out. I thought you were gone for good.
She bites her lip, looking guilty. “I just wanted to do something normal.”
Normal. Coffee runs and bagels.
For the first time in years, someone’s trying to do something for me—not for my name, not for my legacy. Just me.
And I’ll be damned if it doesn’t hit deeper than I expect.
Somewhere New
Sabrina
Iwake up warm.
Too warm.
It takes me a moment to realize why—Langston’s arm is locked around my waist, his chest pressed firm to my back, his breath steady against the nape of my neck.
