Page 57 of In Every Chapter

I waited until Paisley’s breathing settled into soft, even snuffles before I let the ebbing tide of exhaustion roll over me, taking me under.

Hotels should invest in better curtains if they actually wanted people to sleep for longer than three hours in the summer. The flimsy gauze window covering didn’t keep out the morning light, tugging me from the world of oblivion. Although, I should be grateful I could hear the rain pattering against the window, which meant it was more overcast than sunshiny; otherwise I’d have been up even earlier.

I glanced at the glaring red numbers of the bedside radio clock—6:52—and took stock of my body. Everything was warm and heavy. Weird. I blinked and realized why.

I was still in nearly the same position I’d fallen asleep in on my side of the queen bed. But Paisley? She had blown past the center line and was velcroed to my side, head resting on my shoulder, arm draped over my torso and legs tangled with mine. Not unlike how we used to wake up.

I shut my eyes again, trying to keep my breathing and pulse even as I enjoyed the moment. Savoured it. Relished the feel of her in my arms. Like this was normal for us . . . It had been until ten days ago. I shifted my head on the pillow, catching the scent of her hair. Gosh, I loved this woman. The strawberry shampoo she used. The way she snuffled in her sleep and burrowed under enough blankets to become a suffocation hazard in the winter. The way she constantly sought out warmth because she was perpetually cold. The way her pert nose scrunched in thought.

Now, with her in my arms, hand over my staccatoing heart, this upside-down summer felt normal for an instant. Like the world tilted back into rightness. I used to crave adventure—it was partly why I stayed away from home for so long—now I just wanted normalcy.

Holding her like this was a silver lining. She would shift back to roommate status when she woke up and we headed back home. But for a moment . . . a minute . .

I had a glimmer of my wife back. And I held on a little tighter.

Chapter twenty-four

Paisley

Were all hotel beds this divine? Because I’d be happy to never move again. My usually cold limbs were toasty, and my pillow was delightfully warm. Plus, it smelled amazing. Was sandalwood laundry soap a thing? Yummy.

Wait a minute.

The pillow was breathing.

This was no pillow.

I. Was. In. Bed. With. A. Man.

Half of my girl brain chanted, snuggle closer. The other half demanded, run for your life! Clearly, my brain was officially broken.

With all the clumsy ninja skills of my awkward self, I slipped out of Greyson’s arms and slid over the side of the bed with a thud. He didn’t move.

Half running to the bathroom, I closed the door and leaned against it, breathing heavily. Like I’d run a marathon instead of half falling out of bed with an attractive man. Who I was married to.

I needed help. And someone with more brain cells than the current Tweedledee and Tweedledum I was stuck with.

Thankfully, my phone was still on the bathroom counter where I’d forgotten it last night. Swiping, I hit Stephanie’s number and held the phone up to my ear. She gave the best advice. Hopefully that memory was still accurate.

Somehow I didn’t think Juliet would be all that sympathetic to my plight. Given the fact it was her brother in question.

“Pais?” Stephanie’s groggy yawn came over the line. “What time is it?”

I glanced at the phone. Barely seven. And Stephanie was not a morning person. “I’m so sorry, but I need help!” I whisper-shouted.

“What’s wrong?” She instantly sounded more awake. “Are you in trouble? Where’s Greyson?”

“No, I’m . . . he’s . . . we . . . Steph, we did the one-bed thing!”

“You . . . what?”

“We’re in a hotel room, and there was only one bed,” I hissed. “He took me to see Jared’s grave. Because, yeah, Khia dropped that bomb last night. I needed to see it. And I threw up. And then the hotel had one bed, and I thought I was on my side.”

“Whoa, Pais,” Stephanie said gently. “Just let me clarify, you’re not hurt, bleeding out, or broken?”

“No.”

“But you cuddled with your husband in bed because you one-bed-troped and now you’re freaking out?”