“Yeah.”
“Thank you.”
“Welcome.”
Her breathing evens out slowly. It settles, inch by inch.
I sit on the edge of the couch for a moment, listening. Making sure.
When I finally lie back, the couch creaks softly under my weight. I freeze, waiting to see if it wakes her. It doesn’t.
The city hums outside. The lights stay on low.
She sleeps.
This isn’t just a contract obligation for me anymore.
Not tonight.
Chapter eleven
Lila
Ipad down the hallway in socked feet, wrapped in an oversized cardigan that makes me look like a sad beige marshmallow. My hair is a mess. My head feels foggy, like my brain spent the night running laps without telling me.
I didn’t expect to sleep after yesterday. After the paperwork-wedding. After the new reality with a legal seal and a man on my couch.
But I do sleep.
Not well. Not deeply. More like drifting in and out.
The strange part is that what helps is the sound of Cam breathing from across my room.
Steady. Low. Unbothered.
Like a metronome for my nervous system.
Which is deeply inconvenient.
As I approach the kitchen, I brace for the usual penthouse silence. The kind that feels expensive and lonely at the same time. Silence and the low hum of security systems doing their electronic vigil.
Instead, I freeze in the doorway.
Cam stands at the counter with his back to me.
Broad shoulders. Messy sleep hair. A soft gray T-shirt and sweatpants. He looks… normal. Like a man who fits in my kitchen.
He reaches for a mug with the easy confidence of someone who hasn’t spent years tiptoeing around his own life.
Then I smell the coffee.
My coffee.
Not generic office-drip. Not hot brown regret.
The rich, nutty scent of my exact blend. The one I keep stocked like emergency medicine.
My throat tightens.
