Maybe forever.
The thought lands heavier than it should.
I don’t move. I don’t plan. I just stay exactly where I am, soaking up the weight of her, the quiet, the dark.
Eventually I am out of time.
The alarm cuts clean through the dark and whatever fragile fiction I was allowing myself to sit in. Chloe stirs immediately, like she’s been half expecting it, then groans softly and burrows her face into my chest for half a second longer than necessary.
“Unfair,” she murmurs.
“Cruel device,” I agree, reaching over to silence it.
She slips out of bed before I can talk myself into asking for more time and pads towards the bathroom, efficient even now. The tap turns on. I stay where I am, staring at the ceiling, my hand resting in the dip she has just left, the mattress still warm like it has not caught up yet.
By the time she comes back, fully awake and focused, the spell has shifted. Still warm. Still gentle. Just… edged with reality.
We dress without fuss. No awkwardness. No jokes. Clothes pulled on, shoes found, keys located. We move around each other easily, like this has been rehearsed even though it hasn’t.
“I can drive you,” I say, already reaching for my jacket.
She nods. “That would be good.”
We move through the house without much ceremony, shoes on, keys found, the door clicking shut behind us.
The drive is quiet.
Not uncomfortable. Just full. The sort of silence that doesn’t need filling because it’s already doing something important. The streets are mostly empty, Carlisle still half asleep, streetlights blinking like they haven’t quite decided it’s morning yet.
I ease the car in outside her building and turn the engine off, the sudden quiet settling between us.
We look at each other for a second too long.
Then she leans in and kisses me. Soft. Unhurried. A promise and a restraint all at once.
“See you,” she says.
“Yeah,” I reply. “See you soon.”
It’s deliberately vague. We both know it.
She opens the door, steps out, then stops with her hand still on the handle. Turns back, cheeks faintly pink in the streetlight.
“Thanks,” she whispers. Then she is gone before I can tell her.
Before I can tell her that I really, really, would like more.
Chapter 15
Chloe
The office hums aroundme in that familiar open-plan blur of keyboards, low conversations and people convincing themselves they’re concentrating.
I am doing a convincing job of looking like one of them.
My screen is full. My fingers move. My posture says capable and mildly overworked. Nothing about me suggests that something inside me has quietly shifted and not yet settled again.
I keep my head down deliberately.
