“Wake up, sunshine. Unless you want me in physical therapy for a lot longer, I probably shouldn’t drive us home.”
I bolt upright, blinking my eyes. To my surprise, the living room is empty and dark, save for one table lamp.
“Where is everyone?”
“They left. You were passed out, so I figured I’d let you sleep a bit, but I need to get home.”
Standing up, I lift my hands overhead for a big stretch. When my eyes glance down, to my surprise, Jude’s staring at me intently with no small amount of heat. My entire body shivers in response.
“Sorry I was such a sleepyhead.” I lick my lips and swallow. There’s something about the intimate feel of the dimly lit room and the two of us alone that triggers the memory of waking up with him after the wedding.
I take a step back and then another. Those memories will do me no good.
We head out to my car in silence. And for once, I’m not itching to fill it. The drive back to Jude’s apartment is the same. When we arrive, whatever exhaustion I was experiencing before has disappeared.
I feel restless. Unsettled.
In the past, this feeling would lead to one of two things. Either I’d go for a long walk along the waterfront or I would find a guy to hook up with. I’d call someone I’d recently met; once I even drove to Westport to find a bar and a willing one-night stand. I’m not proud of it, and it never felt good afterward, seeing as all it did was cement the belief that I’m not worthy of anything serious with a man. But losing myself in sex was sometimes the only way to shut off that part of my brain that was constantly overthinking and criticizing every decision, every action, every minute detail of my life.
Since option two is not possible, I decide option one is necessary. I’ll drop Jude off, then head home and grab my runners.
Except, I guess I’m more transparent than I thought. Because when we pull up outside of his building, Jude doesn’t get out of the car. He shifts in his seat and faces me.
“Your mouth might have been silent for a change, but your thoughts were loud enough to make up for it. What’s going on?”
I take the keys out of the ignition. “Sorry. My mind is just —” I let out a huff “— going a little crazy, I guess. But it’s fine. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. C’mon.” Jude opens the car door and slowly gets out. When he realizes I’m not moving, he leans back down into the open door. “Lily, come on. Inside.”
The gruff command in his voice makes my limbs move before my brain can catch up. I get out and trail after him up to the door to his building and into the elevator. We ride in silence up to his floor and all the way down the hall to his apartment. Inside, Jude’s on a mission, heading straight to the kitchen and filling a kettle with water.
A quiet meow draws my gaze down to the floor. “You still have the kitten,” I say, a smile crossing my face at last. Jude’s grunt of acknowledgment is exactly what I expected from him. “Did you name her?” I look up to see him watching me intently. He shakes his head.
“Jude, she needs a name.”
“No, she doesn’t. She isn’t staying.”
I make a point of turning slowly, taking in the cat toys that are all over the floor and the bag of treats sitting on the counter. “Uh-huh, sure, she isn’t.”
He turns back to the stove and the kettle that is now whistling. Methodically, he takes two mugs down, puts in a teabag, and covers it with water before turning back to me. “Sit down. I’ll bring over the tea. Chamomile is okay, I hope, it’s all I have.”
“It’s fine,” I say quietly, making my way to the couch. When he sets the mug down in front of me, I pick it up and blow across the steam. “I have to admit, and this sounds bad, but I’m surprised a guy like you has chamomile tea.”
The way he shifts on the couch next to me makes me wonder if he’s embarrassed. Suddenly, I feel bad for commenting on it at all.
“But I’m glad you do,” I hurry to say.
“I don’t sleep very well.”
My heart stutters at his quiet confession. “Oh.”
“Insomnia. It’s been that way for as long as I can remember.” He sucks in a breath, his eyes dropping down before lifting back to me, raw vulnerability shining out of their brown depths. “The night we spent together after the wedding was the first night in years I actually slept.”
I stare at him, my mind whirling as it tries to unpack the significance behind that. But there’s no chance for me to respond before Jude shifts on the couch and changes the subject.
“What has you all up in your head tonight?”
The switch from talking about tea and Jude’s sleep habits to talking about me is jarring, but not unexpected. He’s not a guy who likes to show weakness. Still, it takes me a minute to figure out what, exactly, I want to say. How, exactly, I feel.
