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But I couldn’t. It seemed impossible because the truth was that I wanted her here with me more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life.
I moved slowly around her as if we were magnets with the same polarity, held apart by a set distance.
“Can I borrow a shirt?” she asked as she untucked her silk blouse and unzipped her pencil skirt, shucking off her heels.
“Feel free,” I said, gesturing toward the closet. It felt strange, having her ask to borrow clothes as if we were walking back all the steps forward we’d taken.
But then, we’d already taken those steps back before. So now, it was just a matter of finding our way back to each other, wasn’t it?
She grabbed one of my rattiest old T-shirts and a pair of soft rayon boxers, and I had to hold my breath at the sight of her body. It physically hurt not to touch her.
She didn’t look at me as she pulled back the covers and climbed into bed, turning onto her side the way she always did.
“You getting in with me?” she asked, not opening her eyes. The simple question spurred me into climbing into bed with her, and I turned over to switch off the light using the panel next to my head.
“I’m sorry,” she exhaled shakily.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I answered, feeling my heart fall into a slower, more comforting rhythm. “Goodnight, Nat.”
“Night,” she answered.
The two of us lay there for a while—I didn’t know how long—but sleep seemed to evade me.
“Can I ask you something?” she said, her voice low and soft as she stayed on her side. “And you can say no.”
She said nothing for a while as if the desire weighed on her.
“Just ask, Nat.”
I could practically hear her teeth pressing into her bottom lip as she weighed whether to ask.
“Could you hold me?”
Without another word, I turned onto my side and stretched out my arm, wrapping it around her waist. She settled her hand over mine, wrapping our fingers together, and all too soon, her breathing slowed, and soon after, I was sound asleep as well.
I was pretty damn sure any therapist or relationship counselor, best friend, or expert would tell both of us we were insane for doing this but fuck them. I had the love of my life in my arms, and I was peacefully content.
Time would tell if this was a horrible miscalculation on my part.
Chapter Thirty-One
NAT
I could only blame the sleepless nights for my actions the night before. No wonder sleep deprivation had been used throughout the world as a torture method because I was ready to have myself committed if I didn’t start getting better.
After all, I’d never been the person to randomly show up on some guy’s doorstep at one in the morning, and I’d never, ever been the person just to follow some raw impulse. I was, and always had been, a person who thought through the consequences of every action. I had to, given what the alternative would be if I had no plans about how I’d handle certain situations.
But not this time. This time, I’d simply rolled over on the couch, my eyes opened, and I couldn’t tamp down the impulse that led me to leave Bree’s house in the middle of the night and ring Spencer’s buzzer like my life depended on it.
And the worst part?
I didn’t even have an excuse for it. I hadn’t been drinking, smoking, playing with an Ouija board, or doing anything that could cause a sudden and drastic change in temperament and decision-making. No, I’d been stone-cold sober.
I mean, who did this shit? For real? Up until last night, I would’ve never raised my hand and said that I did, that’s for fucking sure.
All these thoughts flooded through me about the strange desperation I’d shown last night, and yet, while lying in bed with Spencer, none of it felt as insane as my current thoughts made it seem. None of it felt like a wrong decision. None of it felt like a mistake.
I saw the light from the sunrise beginning to illuminate the waves outside the glass wall of Spencer’s room, and the beauty took my breath away.
