Page 133 of Only Be Mine

I considered the question longer than it probably deserved.

“Tired,” I said honestly. “But… okay.”

He nodded, like that made sense. Like he’d expected it. “The jet lag’s still not letting go of you, huh?”

“Something like that.”

He kissed my shoulder, then rolled out of bed, already reaching for his slacks. “Stay there. I’ll make coffee.”

I listened to him move through the house - the clink of mugs, the low hum of the machine - and let myself breathe. This was the version of mornings I’d imagined when we were planning the wedding. Quiet. Domestic. Easy.

When he came back, he handed me a mug and leaned against the doorway, watching me take the first sip.

I winced. “I forgot how strong you make it.”

He laughed softly. “You’ll adjust.”

I smiled at that. At the certainty of it.

It was then that the day began to settle into place in my mind. It was Tuesday. I was supposed to return to work today. The routine I’d stepped out of and now had to step back into.

My stomach tightened.

“I don’t think I can go in today,” I said.

Trevor didn’t look surprised. “Because you’re exhausted?”

“And because,” I added, sitting up, “I don’t have anything to wear. All my suits are still at the townhouse.”

He frowned slightly, thinking it through. “You’re right. I completely derailed your day yesterday. You could always go grab them.”

“My car’s still there,” I said, then sighed. “Which means I’d need a ride.”

He set his mug down and crossed the room, sitting beside me on the bed. “Then I’ll take you.”

I hesitated. Not because I didn’t want him to, but because part of me had wanted to do it alone. I pushed that feeling aside.

“I could also just call off,” I said. “Take another day.”

Trevor’s expression softened. “That might not be a bad idea.”

“No?”

He shook his head. “You’ve had a lot on your plate. Even before the wedding.” He reached up, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “Work hasn’t exactly been kind to you these last few years. Not since John… disappeared.”

The name still landed heavy, even now. But I didn’t pull away.

“I just haven’t felt the same about it,” I admitted. “Interior design used to feel… exciting. Lately it just feels like another thing I’m forcing myself through.”

He studied me carefully. “Then maybe you don’t force it right now.”

I looked at him. “You mean quit?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I mean pause. Breathe.” A small smile tugged at his mouth. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone anymore.”

I knew what he meant. And I knew what he wasn’t saying.

“You wouldn’t mind?” I asked.