Page 73 of The Marriage Rebound

I chuckled as I wrapped my arms around her tighter. “It’s just stating facts, baby. I was chillin’ in bed minding my business. You came out the bathroom, dropped your robe, and proceeded to jump my bones. Not my fault you didn’t wrap your hair up first.” The last part was nearly swallowed up by my yawn.

“I just got this install done.”

The whine in her voice brought a smile to my face. Her newest look was a copper-tone, shoulder-length bob-style joint, which was sleek and sexy. It was a little frizzy now, but nothing some flat-ironing couldn’t fix.

“Am I supposed to apologize for puttin’ it on you? Because . . . I’m not.”

Her sudden movement startled me as Sasha moved from being curled up on my side to lying on top of me. She folded her hands on my chest and propped her chin up on them. In the darkness I couldn’t really make out her expression, but I could see a vague outline of her face. I reached up to trace the contour of her jawline.

“No, I know, never apologize for puttin’ me through the mattress.”

“And I won’t.”

She kissed the bottom of my chin. “Shameless.”

Sasha repositioned herself by my side, and I slipped my arm around her waist as she snuggled into a comfortable position. Both our breathing became steady, and I was happy to let a peaceful, well-earned sleep overcome me.

“I’m sorry.”

The words were spoken so softly I almost missed them. “Huh?”

There was a moment of silence, and I thought maybe I imagined it.

But then she spoke again. “I’m sorry.”

I was very confused. We’d had a good night—hell, it’d been a good day for the most part—so a random apology was unexpected.

“For what?”

“The fight.”

My body was in shutdown mode, which made my brain slower to process information, but I could not come up with a single reason for what she was saying.

“Baby, we didn’t fight. What are you talking about?”

Again, silence stretched on, and the Sandman was ferrying me off to dreamland when she spoke again. “About the clinic. Lettin’ you think I had gone.”

My eyes popped open and I blinked a few times in the darkness, trying to catch up on the conversation she was trying to have. “What, huh?”

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

I pressed my lips to the top of her head, making contact with the satin of her bonnet. “Clearly I didn’t do a good job,” I said through a yawn.

“Job with what?”

“Puttin’ you to sleep.”

She lightly smacked the top of my arm. “Court, I’m bein’ serious.”

I had no idea why this was on her mind right now, but I knew I couldn’t properly engage with the way I was struggling to keep myself awake. “Sorry.” I stifled another yawn. “I don’t want you to think I’m brushing you off, but I’m not super coherent right now, baby, and if you want this to be a real conversation, I can’t promise you I’m going to be all here for it.”

There was silence for a moment, and I thought I’d upset her, until she reached back to stroke my cheek. “I understand. We can talk in the mornin’. I just wanted you to know I was sorry.”

I snuggled closer to her, tightening my arm around her waist, and hummed out a sound I hoped came across as agreement.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too.”