And yet as I approach my door, with my phone too silent from Isaac’s lack of texts, I’m envisioning a trail of clothing from the front hall to our bedroom.
A discarded bra, a thong, his boxers…
You’re acting crazy, a voice informs me.
I totally am. If he was cheating on me, there’s no way he would have someone in there right now. I’m not surprising him by coming home early. HeknewI was due home tonight. He told me to have a safe flight eight hours ago, then chided me when I told him that’s sort of up to the pilot and beyond my control. Isaac isn’t exactly in love with my dry humor, though I suspect that’s mostly because it usually goes over his head.
I turn the key in the lock and enter the condo. Despite myself, my gaze drops to the polished floor. No underwear trail. That’s a good sign.
“Babe?” I call.
No response. But his shoes are in the hall. His keys and his wallet are on the kitchen counter. I wander deeper into the apartment toward our bedroom, still battling that anxious feeling. I feel crazy.
The door is ajar. Slowly, I nudge it open.
He’s on his side, one long leg thrust out from the twisted sheet. I focus briefly on his muscular thigh before my gaze trails upward to his sculpted bicep. His arm is slung around his pillow, which he’s holding tight to his chest, the way he usually holds me when we fall asleep together.
Relief hits me, a smile tugging on my lips.
He’s sound asleep in our bed.
Alone.
Did I mention he’s alone?
Now I feel like a total asshole for even thinking he might not be.
I pause in the doorway, admiring him. The sunlight streaming in through the blinds is casting a golden glow over the golden god in my bed. Make thatgingergod. Isaac vehemently denies it when you point out he has red hair, but insisting your hair is “blond with a splash of strawberry” doesn’t make it so.
A soft groan comes from the bed. He shifts slightly. I hate interrupting his nap, but I’ve been gone for two weeks, and I missed him.
I sit at the edge of the bed and gently run my fingers over his reddish-brown beard. He hasn’t shaved in several days.
“Hey,” I say softly. I bend down, brushing my lips over his forehead.
He stirs, eyelids fluttering. He twitches for a second, and then his eyes slowly slide open. A happy smile curves his lips. “Babe,” he says. “You’re here.”
My heart skips a beat at his jubilant tone. “I’m here.”
He blinks a couple times. “Oh shit. Sorry. I was asleep. I wanted to get in a quick nap after dinner so I could stay up late and worship you.”
I grin. “Conserving your strength for the worshipping. I approve.”
“How was the flight?”
“It was good.”
He tugs me toward him and wraps his arms around me, then starts planting kisses all over my neck and face until I’m laughing.
“Really missed you,” Isaac mumbles against my cheek.
“I missed you too.”
Our lips find each other at the same time as my phone vibrates in my pocket. He feels it against his thigh and snickers.
“Babe, let’s save the sex toys for after dinner?”
With a snort, I pull out my phone, not to check it but to put it on silent. It won’t stop buzzing, and it’s annoying me.
