Me:
What is it you always say? There is always a perfect time for everything. Now is the time for us. You don’t need to worry about me anymore.
Ash:
I will always worry about you. Big brother rights and all that.
Me:
Okay, well, since I have sister rights, I’m going to tell you to go to bed. You have three kids and a physically demanding job to get up for. Thank you for everything.
Ash:
Love you, Erika x
Me:
Love you too xoxo
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Erika
It’s past midnight, and I’m still awake.
After dinner, I thought talking to Ash would help settle my restlessness, but it didn’t work. Instead, with every minute that passes, I get more annoyed because I can’t sleep, overthinking the conversation with Leon from earlier.
I want to unpick everything he said.
I can’t wait until tomorrow.
Had it not been for Valerie making herself comfortable in my room, chatting nonsense before she went to bed, I would have slipped into Leon’s room hours ago.But now it’s too late, and I missed my opportunity to ask him all the dozens of questions that are spinning around my brain.
Staring at the ceiling, I watch the ripples from Leon’s pool outside cast shimmering reflections that dance across the walls, making the whole room feel as if it’s alive and moving.
Ash messaged me just before I came to bed to let me know Huck had contacted him directly, saying he would be moving out tomorrow. I don’t blame him for wanting to leave quickly and not talk to me. I humiliated him and was dishonest, not only to him but to myself as well, for not voicing the doubts I had.
Thinking back, I don’t know where my head was when I said yes to marrying Huck because, for weeks afterward, I questioned my decision. Maybe it was the sixty hours I worked on barely any sleep that week, which made me lose all sense of myself. Whatever it was, it was a mistake on my part because at some point I stopped loving or even liking him, or maybe I never truly did.
I roll onto my side and punch my pillow for the hundredth time, unable to get comfortable. My head has gone into overdrive, thinking about everything that’s happened since Saturday.
This emotional carousel I can’t get off is driving me loopy.
Lifting my phone off the nightstand, I recheck the time: half past midnight. I slap it back down in frustration and take a huffy breath, knowing my overactive brain is too busy to consider sleep. I then flip the comforter back, leap out of bed, and leave my room.
Without knowing where I am headed, I suddenly find myself standing outside Leon’s open bedroom door because he always sleeps with it open.
Nervously leaning against the doorjamb, considering my next move, I opt to watch him for a while and enjoy losing myself in the sound of his mesmerizing, deep breathing and bare chest as it moves up and down in a hypnotic motion. Lying on his back, the scant light highlights the deep divots in his toned stomach, chest, and arm muscles. Even though he no longer plays hockey, the athlete in him still endures, and he still looks as sexy as when I first met him, actually, even sexier. As if my feet have a life of their own, I make my way to the side of the bed he’s not sleeping on. I want him to wake up because I need to talk to him. Plus, he always knows how to calm my mind.
“Leon,” I whisper, pushing the comforter back a little, then I place a knee on the mattress to climb in beside him. “Leon,” I say again, a little louder this time, making him jump.
“Jesus, fuck,” he bellows, fighting with the sheets in a sleep-filled daze.
“Shh, you’ll wake your mom and dad. It’s me,” I whisper, trying to hold back my laughter.
“You scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry.”
