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“I’m not freaked out anymore, Daphne.”
“You’re tense.”
“Yes. Because I’m out of my brain angry at your sister.”
He could say that again.
“I just—”
His hand came to rest tenderly on my cheek, good aim, because it was dark as pitch in his room.
“Daphne, what might hasten this process is if you’d be quiet.”
I shut up.
He slid his hand back into my hair and then commenced running his fingers through it.
That felt nice.
I started to unwind.
I felt his body begin to relax.
He switched to stroking my back.
I unwound more.
He stopped stroking and pulled me close.
I cuddled my cheek to his chest.
And fell asleep.
In the dark, on the face of the tablet by Ian’s bed, the clock ticked the minute change.
It was three oh three.
Fifteen
THE SITTING ROOM
I woke without opening my eyes and instinctively gliding my hand across the sheet to find what I was looking for.
My hand came up empty.
I opened my eyes.
When I did, I saw one of those tablets that a lot of hotels had these days sitting on a stand on the night table.
It was one of those smart room tablets, that in my personal experience, never really worked. Apps that turned on and off lights, dimmed them, opened and closed curtains, and adjusted temperature.
This one appeared to have a current events window.
And it also told me it was ten fifty-seven in the morning.
I’d slept in, by a lot.
I sat up in bed and looked through the double doors to see Ian on the couch, twisted to look over the back at me.
