And I can’t seem to get enough of it.
My muscles ache in a way that reminds me exactly what we did last night. For one reckless moment, I almost let myself believe what he whispered against my skin.
I almost let myself believe I could stay in his arms and be safe.
It doesn’t take long for reality to press back in at the edges, reminding me just how dangerous it is to want that kind of comfort.
Dangerous to need it.
To depend on it.
I shove those thoughts aside and dress quickly for work, tugging my blouse into place and then smoothing the lapels of my blazer. Anything to give myself the illusion of control.
As tempting as it is to stop by Lakeshore Sweets, there isn’t time. I have a meeting at nine, and after yesterday’s disaster, I need to project professionalism in every way possible. The last thing I can afford is to give Hugh or Evelyn another reason to question me.
Another excuse to let me go.
As I pass the guest room where Kia’s staying, I pause. It would be simpler to shoot her a text and let her know I’ve left. Going to work with me yesterday was likely a scarring experience she has zero interest in repeating.
Same, girl. Same.
But something stops me from taking the easy way out.
Maybe it’s some kind of sixth sense.
Or guilt.
Or maybe it’s the memory of being her age and pretending to be confident while the world continuously shifted beneath my feet. I understand what it feels like to wake up and realize you don’t know who’s still on your side.
Instead of escaping to the elevator, I knock against the partially open door before easing it wider and peeking into the darkened space. “Kia?”
When there isn’t an answer, I hesitantly push the door open farther and take in the rumpled bed, sheets tangled in disarray. My gaze flicks toward the bathroom. The door isn’t fully shut, and a thin sliver of light spills through the gap. The last thing I want to do is intrude.
As I take a step in retreat, a muffled sound filters out. The harsh gagging is unmistakable.
Oh boy.
I really hope it’s not the eggrolls making an unexpected reappearance.
She wasn’t kidding about how much she wanted to eat last night. My guess is that her stomach wasn’t in agreement with that decision.
“Kia?” I cross the room and pause at the threshold.
She looks up from where she’s crouched near the toilet, her eyes watery and ringed with exhaustion.
“Hey, are you all right?” I ask.
She swipes at her mouth with a shaking hand as tears slide down her pale cheeks. “I’m fine. Sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you.”
“Don’t be silly. Of course you didn’t.” I wet a washcloth with warm water and kneel beside her, pressing it gently to her face while I brush a few damp strands of hair from her forehead. “I was heading to work and wanted to see if you needed anything before I left.”
She shakes her head weakly. “I’m fine. I think it’s almost done now.”
Poor thing.
So far, I’ve been lucky with this pregnancy. No morning sickness or running for the bathroom at dawn. But I know plenty of women who are plagued with it for weeks, even months.
The thought lodges in my head, ringing with sudden clarity. “Kia… You, um, wouldn’t happen to be pregnant, would you?”
