Kate awoke in the middle of the night, enshrouded in darkness so complete that for a moment, she panicked.

Am I dead?

Her arm flailed out and she cracked her hand on something hard and unyielding.

Guess not. Unless you can still feel pain in the afterlife. That would suck.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness and her heart went from a gallop to a trot, she saw that she was in a strange room. Sitting up and looking around, she realized the bed wasn’t her bed. This wasn’t her house. This wasn’t her room.

She was about to scream when she glanced next to her and saw Andrew fast asleep.

Wait.

“Where the hell am I?” she whispered.

Buttons was at his spot by her feet. He groaned, one ear perking up.

Think, Kate, think. Where were you before you fell asleep?

Thinking was easier said than done. Her brain was dimmer and foggier than a London alley at night. Her mouth was so dry, her tongue stuck to her palate. Andrew had placed a bottle of water beside the bed. She struggled to unscrew the cap and took a big swig.

Her stomach gurgled as reality hit her. She was in the lake house in Maine. Moonlight trickled through the blinds covering the sliding doors.

The lake house.

It was no wonder she was confused. Sometimes she woke up in her own house disoriented and afraid.

But wait. She was in a bed. Hadn’t she fallen asleep on the couch, watching TV with Andrew?

She turned on her phone’s flashlight, waving it around the room. Now that she could remember settling into the house, she recalled the layout of the living room. It appeared Andrew had rearranged everything so the bedroom furniture was now in the living room, the bed facing the back porch and lake beyond.

And he’d done all of it while she slept, including changing her into pajamas and putting her to bed.

Sometimes it frightened her how deeply she slept. It was no wonder she worried about dying in her sleep, considering how close she must be to the diaphanous veil every time she drifted off.

She leaned over and tenderly kissed the top of Andrew’s bare shoulder. After driving all day and unloading the car, he’d still found the strength to rearrange the house so she had a prime spot to rest her head every day and night.

It was easy to feel guilty for trapping him in this existence of pain and doctors and illness. This was no picnic for either of them, but at least he was strong and healthy enough to walk away and start a new, normal life. She’d said just that to him on more than one occasion, offering him a heartfelt ‘get out of jail free’ card to run and never look back.