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After finishing his tea, he moves to stand. “It’s late. You should get some rest.”
“Okay,” I mutter quietly.
Then he reaches a hand down and helps me to my feet. Struck by this new information, with only inches between us, I stare into his eyes. Those rich brown eyes are gazing into mine, and suddenly, I feel closer to him than I’ve felt to anyone in a very long time. Like an entire world exists between us now, and it’s only been two days.
I should say something, but I don’t even know what to say; I feel so empty without words to express how I’m feeling.
All too soon, he steps away from me, walking to the hallway that leads to the guest room, and I begrudgingly pass by him, walking to the room. Before I shut the door, separating us, I lean my head out and look into his eyes as I say, “Good night, Ronan.”
“Good night, Daisy,” he replies, and I could be crazy, but I swear he’s hesitating, too, before he finally turns around and leaves me alone.
RULE #11: IF YOU CAN’T SLEEP IN YOUR BED, TRY HIS
Daisy
The sun will come up any moment now, but sleep still evades me. No matter how long I lie in this cloud of a bed with my eyes closed, praying that my dreams take me away, I can’t seem to fall asleep.
I just keep thinking about that photo. His wife. Hisson. Sadness aches in my chest for him. Right next to shame and regret for opening my big mouth. Why couldn’t I just put the photo back and let the moment pass? We were getting along so well and were both so happy with thoughts of Paris in our future.
Then I had to ruin it by bringing up the one thing I’m sure he doesn’t ever want to think about.
I shouldn’t have gone to bed that quickly. Why didn’t I comfort him or say something else, instead of sitting there silent and ignorant?
It’s almost five when I finally give up on sleep and climb out of bed. The house is quiet and dark. His office is empty, and I stare at it, considering for a moment that I might find some of my answers in there. But I only get to the doorway before I stop myself.
Why am I doing this? What on earth will I find? Pictures of her? Proof that I might be falling for the same man my mother did nine years ago? Is that what I want? Or do I want a reason to dislike him? Something that makes him anything less than perfect. Maybe he was buying my mother’s silence. Maybe he hurt her in some way and offering me a bright future was all she wanted in return for it.
No. Not Ronan. It just doesn’t fit.
When I decide that there is nothing in that office that will make me feel better about this, I abandon the idea and turn around. Instead of going back to my room, I continue into the main living area and see a faint light coming from his room.
It would be inappropriate to go in there. Ronan and I are barely even friends. But I admit, we seem to be swimming in unfamiliar water, treading awfully close to something without crossing that line. Why do I suddenly want to?
Curiosity. Loneliness.
Maybe both.
Or perhaps I just want to be someone special to Ronan. Someone he’d find first in a crowded room. And I’ve never wanted that from any man, but strangely with him, I do.
Without a sound, I follow the dim light across the house and down the short hallway until I’m standing at his slightly open door.
I gently rap my fingers against it, peering farther into the room. “Ronan?”
“Come in, Daisy,” he answers in a cool, gravelly tone.
I step in with my arms crossed over my chest as I take in the sight of him, shirtless in his bed, in nothing but a pair of dark gray sweatpants with his laptop resting on his legs. He’s wearing glasses, but he slowly takes them off, resting them on the nightstand before closing the computer.
“Are you okay?” he asks, and I’m too busy staring at him. This sudden desire I’m feeling for him is like an intense and all-consuming burn. When did this happen?
“Can’t sleep,” I reply. The room is silent; the only sound I hear is the thrumming of blood in my ears and the shaky cadence of my breathing.
“Come here.” His voice comes out in a cool, low command as he pats the empty spot in his bed.
For a moment, I hesitate. Is this crossing a line? Too intimate? Or is this something two people can do without there being any expectations? After I swallow down my nerves, I cross the room and climb into his warm bed. His familiar scent fills my nose as I rest my head against the pillow next to his.
He moves his laptop to the side table, clicks off the light, and lies down next to me.
“Why are you taking me to Paris?” I ask.
