His fingers brush the hem of my shirt, dipping beneath the fabric to trace the bare skin of my waist. His touch is reverent, but I can’t stop the sharp edge of unease prickling along my spine.
Nathaniel has always been observant by nature, but I’ve learned that he’s also obsessive by habit. There’s nothing about me that would escape his notice.
And now…he’s waiting.
I sit at the counter,my hands curled loosely around a cup of tea I haven’t taken a sip from. The steam has long since faded, but I hold it to have something to occupy my hands.
Meanwhile, Nathaniel moves fluidly through the kitchen as he always does. He crisps two eggs on the skillet, yolks glistening on the heat, the crackle filling the silence.
He says nothing. Instead, his actions do the talking. His hand grazes the small of my back as he passes by, lingering just long enough to show his intent. When a stray lock of hair slips forward, he’s already there, fingers threading gently behind my ear, his thumb tracking the curve of my jaw before falling away. He kisses my temple, slow and soft, as if he’s anchoring himself to me.
Each touch feels less and less like affection, and more like a plea. His need wraps around me, suffocating in its persistence, and I wonder if he even realizes he’s pressing in on me with the intensity of it.
Nathaniel eventually sets a plate in front of me—sunny side up, toast, and a neat pile of mixed berries. A perfectly balanced breakfast, as always.
“Thank you,” I say softly, giving him a faint smile.
He kisses the top of my head in response, brushing his fingertips over my shoulder before sitting beside me with his own plate. For a few moments, the only sound is the quiet clinkof silverware against porcelain. I pick at the food, taking small bites of toast.
Ever vigilant, Nathaniel’s gaze flicks toward my plate and then to my face. He waits, patient but attentive, watching as a I half-heartedly nudge a berry with the edge of my fork.
“Is it not what you wanted?” His voice is gentle, but there’s an edge of worry tucked behind it. “I can make something else if you’d like.”
Guilt stirs beneath my ribs. “No, it’s not that. The food’s perfect. I’m just…not that hungry.” I say with a small shake of my head.
His brow furrows slightly. “Are you feeling all right?”
I hesitate, fingers tightening around the fork. “I have a headache,” I say, which isn’t entirely a lie. My head has been spinning since I opened my eyes, and his constant touch only made it worse.
Nathaniel’s already shifting closer, his fingertips ghosting along the inside of my wrist, as if measuring the pulse beneath my skin. His other hand brushes gently over my forehead, testing for heat.
“You don’t feel feverish, that’s good…” he murmurs, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies me. “Do you want something for your headache?”
Before I can answer, he’s already standing, heading toward the cabinet above the sink. I watch as he searches the shelves, his movements swift but controlled—until he pauses, fingers tapping against the empty space where the painkillers should be.
Nathaniel sighs, glancing back at me over his shoulder. “We’re out,” he says simply. Then, in the next breath, “I’ll run to the store.”
I open my mouth to protest, but the words never come. Instead, I nod, seizing the opportunity. The thought of even tenminutes alone seems like oxygen to lungs that haven’t drawn a full breath in hours.
He steps toward me, bending to press a lingering kiss to my lips before disappearing into the bedroom to get dressed.
As soon as he’s out of sight, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. My fingers drift to my necklace, the diamond cool against my skin. I trace its edges absently, feeling the slight curve of the bezel setting. I smile at the memory of the night he gave it to me, our first “proper” date. He certainly made an impression…in more ways than one.
But as I turn the pendant over between my fingers, I also remember his insistence that I never take it off—how he made me promise I never would. And so, I never have.
Suddenly, an irrational thought creeps into my mind unbidden—could there be something inside it?I almost laugh at the absurdity. But the weight of yesterday’s realization—that he’d known where I was without ever being told—settles over me like a second skin.
I frown, tilting the necklace in the soft kitchen light. The impulse to unfasten it, to pry apart the bezel and confirm my suspicions, tugs at me like an itch.
But I can’t.
Nathaniel will notice the moment it’s gone.
The sound of his footsteps returning pulls me from my thoughts. I release the pendant, letting it fall gently against my chest as he emerges from the bedroom.
He crosses the space between us, reaching up to caress the side of my face. “I won’t be long,” he says, but I catch the way his eyes linger, searching for something in my expression.
I hesitate, and then the thought strikes me—a way to buy more time.
