He searches my face and finds what he's looking for.
"No," he says, something releasing in his shoulders. "The last thing I remember is you."
I nod, and then he settles back against the pillows and draws me with him. I tuck myself against his side the way I have a hundred times, finding the familiar architecture of him. His ribs are more prominent. He's lost weight. His arm around me is lighter than it used to be.
I think about Beckett's arm.
I stop thinking about Beckett's arm.
"Tell me what I missed," he says.
The ground shifts. One millimeter. Imperceptible unless you were already bracing for it.
"Nothing." I keep my voice easy. "The world stopped for you.”
He grins, and that’s how I know I have him wrapped around my finger.
“How’s Puget Sound?”
I don’t stop my fingers from playing with his arm, but I catch Maeve’s eyes. Judge Ravenshaw glances over at me, too.
“It’s fine,” I answer. “Everyone’s been really understanding, and I’m only getting on my feet now.”
“You love me that much, huh?” he asks.
I nod, but I know what he’s thinking. He thinks I’m foolish.
"Yeah?" Something in his tone is warm. "That’s my girl."
My jaw tightens so slightly that no one watching would catch it.
His girl.
I think about the ceramic ballerina on my bathroom shelf. I think about the camera dot. I think about sitting tied to a chair while videos played on a screen and a voice behind me that said,“You really didn't know.”
He kisses the top of my head. "I’m here now."
I force myself to murmur, “You came back to me.”
His fingers move from my shoulder to my collarbone, trailing along it absently, and then they slow. He traces the bare skin at the base of my throat where the pendant should be and isn't. His touch is light. Curious.
"Where's your necklace?"
He remembers too much, clearly. My stomach sinks.
"It came off in my sleep, and I looked everywhere."
He's quiet for a moment. "I'll get you another one."
"Really?”
His fingers rest against my collarbone a second longer than necessary. "I gave it to you for a reason."
I still.
A knock at the door saves me from having to respond.
I didn’t know she left, but Maeve pushes the door open with her shoulder, arms full — two coffees, a paper bag that smells like the good bakery. But she's not alone.
