Page 138 of I’m The Worst

The smell of soap and clean water fills the space.

Wolff stands in front of the mirror with a towel hanging low around his hips, dark hair dripping water down the hard lines of his chest and stomach before disappearing beneath the fabric. His shoulders tense slightly the second he notices me in the reflection.

His green eyes meet mine.

For a second, neither of us speaks.

The air between us still feels heavy. Intimate in a way that makes my pulse stutter.

I don’t know what we are now.

If we’re anything at all.

“Get dressed,” he says finally. “We dock in an hour.”

The warmth in my chest falters.

He turns away from the mirror, grabbing his clothes from the counter before pulling them on without looking at me again. I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to ignore the sinking feeling spreading through my ribs.

“Are we going to eat breakfast?”

Nothing.

Not even a glance.

Right. Of course not. Back to cold, distant Wolff.

I look down at the wedding ring still wrapped around my finger. Last night, he kissed me and held me through the storm like he didn’t want to let go.

Now, it feels like I imagined the entire thing.

I force myself to move, grabbing my clothes from the chair and pulling on jeans and a sweater while the silence stretches painfully between us.

When I look up again, he’s fully dressed and sitting in the chair by the door, staring at his phone with that same unreadable expression back on his face.

Something in my chest clenches at the sight.

I shove my feet into my boots and walk toward him.

“Wolff?”

He doesn’t look up, his thumb scrolling across the screen. My fingers twist around the gold band on my hand.

“You know,” I say, trying to force some lightness into my voice, “husbands usually say good morning to their wives.”

He stands so abruptly that it startles me. Shoving the phone into his pocket, he grabs the duffel from the floor and heads for the door.

“Let’s go.”

That ache in my chest sharpens into something worse.

I follow him out into the hallway anyway, chewing hard on the inside of my cheek while we walk toward the deck.

I don’t understand him. Last night felt real.

Didn’t it?

I wish I knew what he was thinking. Why he’s back to being…this.