Something tender entered his expression.
“You always knew when I was pretending not to be tired. You made the apartment feel inhabited. Before you, it was only a place where I slept.”
I looked around.
The narrow hall.
The unfinished puzzle covering the dining table.
Marlowe’s toys beneath the window.
The old green lamp.
I could not remember making the apartment ours.
But it no longer felt like another man’s house.
It felt like a place where someone had been waiting for me.
“That’s enough.”
Reid’s attention sharpened. “Too much?”
“No.”
My voice had roughened.
“Exactly enough.”
We sat without speaking.
Fatigue crept back through me, softening the edge of the furniture and making the rain sound farther away.
I hated how quickly my energy vanished.
One emotional conversation and my brain behaved as though I had run for miles.
Reid noticed.
“Food.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You ate half a pastry and some eggs.”
“I had soup.”
“That was yesterday.”
“Was it?”
Alarm changed his face instantly.
I hated how quickly I could frighten him.
“I’m joking.”
“You are not amusing.”
