I couldn’t help it. The laugh came out of nowhere, and my whole body let go all at once.
“Yes,” I said, exhaling. “Exactly!”
Carol fidgeted, her fingers tapping against her thigh, her foot shifting, like her brain was flipping through a million possible things to say and couldn’t settle on one.
“What if we split a bottle of wine and find you a new celebrity crush?” She finally offered. “You liked that Loki guy, right?”
“Tom Hiddleston. Yeah…” I smiled. It was a sweet offer. But I wassotired. Not that I thought I’d actually be able to sleep, but maybe I could at least crawl into bed early and pretend. “I’m sorry,” I said, stepping toward her and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I’m just… tired.” I turned and started toward the stairs. As I reached the bottom step, her voice called out again.
“What about tequila and Dakota Johnson?”
My smile widened. Now we were talking.
Cocooned in my bed,I was finally enjoying deep and peaceful sleep. My blankets felt warm and soft, wrapping around me, and it felt like the first truly restorative moment I had in weeks. But, of course, the universe ruined it. A distant sound—a car engine—cut through the silence. My first thought was that whoever this motherfucker was, I hoped they got a midnight knot cramp for waking me up.
The air outside was chilly. You could practically smell snow in the air. I ignored it, squeezing my eyes back shut and willing myself back into that wonderful sleep. Ignoring the constant noise in my head that came after the sun wentdown was no job for amateurs. But the sounds grew louder. A car pulling into a driveway. A door shutting. Footsteps crunching on the frosty ground.
Wait.
My eyes snapped open when it hit me like a bucket of cold water: the sound was coming frommydriveway.
“Shit.” I jumped out of bed, the cold air biting at my skin and making me shiver as I ran down the stairs. My mind raced as I unlocked and opened the door, and there he was.
Chris.
His hand was frozen mid-air, about to knock.
The sight of him made me pause. It had been almost a month since we’d seen each other, and he was the last person I expected to find on my doorstep.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice still groggy. A small puff of breath escaped into the icy night air, curling between us. Part of me wanted to kick him and slam the door in his face. But my body? My traitorous, stupid body? It was practically screaming at me tohug him.
What the fuck, body?
How could I even think about touching him after what had happened? After the way I spent the past month like a shell of myself, trying to unlearn what it had felt like to be near him. I had to relearn how to function after getting a taste of what belonging felt like. Like in my daydreams, but real. Left with the memory of the real him to mix with the dream version, like they teamed up to torture me on a whole new level. And now he was here, standing on my porch like a ghost I’d summoned without meaning to.
He swayed, visibly drunk, his words tumbling out in a fast, barely coherent rush.
“You! You said you didn’t play games. But you do. And you are too good. I give up. You win. Satisfied?”
I stayed calm, but the cold made it impossible to ignorehow awake I was now. My breath puffed out in quick bursts asI stared at Chris.
“Chris, it’s…” I glanced over my shoulder at the clock on the wall. “3:15. My kids are asleep.”
So much for my delicious sleep.
I scratched my eyes to clear the grogginess and to make sure I was actually seeing this. He mumbled something I couldn’t quite hear. I tugged at the hem of my oversized shirt, the one four sizes too big, but that barely reached my knees—damn, long legs—and crossed my arms for warmth.
“You should go,” I said, my tone firmer this time.
Chris nodded, his movements sluggish and his eyes unfocused as he looked at me. For a second, I saw it. The sadness. That one that sneaks up on you when you’re drunk and alone.
“You’re right. I should go…” His voice was soft, low, and so fucking sad that it twisted something inside me. But I wasdone. Done with the bullshit. If all I ever got was Dream Chris, that was fine. Dream Chris was way less of an asshole anyway, and more importantly, he let me sleep.
Chris turned, stumbling toward his car, and that’s when it hit me. He was planning to drive back. Panic surged through me like an electric shock. He was in no state to drive. Not in regular conditions, let alone at three a.m. in this weather. He deserved a lot—a kick in the balls for waking me up, for one—but he didn’t deserve to die in the middle of the damn road. Before I could think it through, I rushed after him, grabbed his arm, and stopped him in his tracks.
“Did you drive here?”
He gestured exaggeratedly toward the car as if it were the most evident thing in the world.
