In the bath.
At dinner.
In bed.
Especially when she leaned in close and whispered against my ear.
Asking for more.
???
When she stepped out of the bathroom, something was wrong.
Her eyes were red, the rims swollen, and tears clung heavily to her eyelashes as if they hadn’t decided whether to fall or stay. My chest tightened at the sight. Stella quickly looked away from me, wiping at her face with the heel of her hand as if she could hide it.
My heart sank.
She’d been perfectly fine only minutes ago.
We’d been unpacking the last of her things, moving them into my bedroom. She’d been laughing while digging through my watch drawer, holding up one of the older pieces and asking if it was vintage or just ugly.
Now she looked like someone had shattered her.
I pushed off the bed and crossed the room in two quick strides.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” I asked softly, wrapping my arms around her the moment I reached her.
She didn’t answer.
Instead, she buried her face into my shirt and started crying.
Real crying.
Panic flared instantly.
Had she changed her mind?
Did she regret moving in?
Did she want to go back to that house?
Never.
That wasn’t happening.
I opened my mouth to speak—
“My period started,” she said between hiccupping breaths.
All the tension drained from my body so quickly my shoulders sagged. I let out a slow breath, relief washing through me as the situation rearranged itself in my mind.
Right.
That.
I’d forgotten just how emotional this time of the month could be.
I guided her gently toward the bed and sat down, pulling her with me until she was settled across my lap. She curled into me automatically, still sniffling.
