But she doesn’t. “Are we friends?” she asks instead, her face turning into my skin, peppering me with kisses. It’s not what I wanted to hear, but I can wait because it will come.

“We’re friends, baby.”

“I’m glad.” She sounds so content.

“Me too. So glad.”

“Where have you been?”

I still. My lungs still. My mind stills. Not this. She can’t spoil this beautiful moment with questions. Or, more accurately, I can’t spoil this moment with the answers. “It doesn’t matter, Ava.” Please, don’t ask me. Please, just let me figure out how the fuck I’m going to tell you what I’ve done.

“It matters to me.”

“You asked for space.” Deplorable. “I’m back.” And I don’t deserve to be. “That’s all that matters.” It isn’t, I know that, but I need to get us to a point where she will think twice about leaving. And that point isn’t now. My serenity is gone, and I can’t help feeling pissed off that she’s done that. I have no right. None at all, I’m reasonable enough to accept that. But the feelings are there, and I’ll be damned if I can stop them. I’m just one huge fuck-up, making mistake after mistake. I scowl to myself and feel for her arse, getting a good grip and tugging her closer, my soft, bare cock still warm and snug inside her.

She eventually sighs. Peeks up at me. She looks exhausted. I feel exhausted. Not physically, though. Physically, I could go on forever. Mentally, I don’t know how much more I can sustain before I crack. It’s an ironic notion. Physical well-being has always been an underlying concern. The drink, the sex. The true state of my mental well-being was masked. Now, I feel like I’m on a runaway roller coaster going one hundred miles an hour, no end in sight, and not a hope of getting off the fucker. And this woman? She’s the reason why.

“I need to wash my hair,” she whispers, and I reach up to push the wet locks from her face, giving her a tender kiss. “Are you hungry yet?”

“Very.” She peels her body from mine, and I can’t lie, it feels wrong. I’m lost without her all over me. I watch her as she scans the sparse shelf and plucks out a bottle. “Is this it?” She turns her eyes down to me, where I’m still on my dead arse recovering. “No conditioner?”