I sigh when I find she’s not in our bed, rolling my eyes and backing out. She’s in the last spare room I check, the one farthest from our bedroom. I scan all of the fancy dress cushions littering the carpet, the ones she’s tossed around in a temper, as I pace to the bed and lift her into my arms, and there is not one word of complaint. In fact, she snuggles into my suit jacket. She’s so fucking confusing. I put her where she should be—in our bed—and start stripping down as she buries her face in a pillow. I know I catch an exhale of contentment, and yet when I crawl in behind her, she finds that irritating defiant streak and pushes my hands away when I reach for her.

“Get off!”

“Ava,” I growl.

“Tomorrow, I’m out of here.” She breaks free and I laugh, so fucking amused. She’s going nowhere. She knows it, I know it. For the love of God, she just cuddled me as I carried her here. Breathed me in on the sheets.

“We’ll see.” I seize her and yank her into my front, making sure she can’t break free. She doesn’t even try, and I’m certain it’s because of the peace that is suddenly enveloping us. This is our bubble, and despite her being affronted, she settles in my arms. The arms that will protect her from everything.

I lie for a time, my eyes wide open, my heart rate stabilizing, but my crowded mind becomes busier. She’s sound asleep. Peaceful. It’s a stark contrast to the turmoil within me. But is it only inner turmoil? Of course it’s not. My unrest must be plastered over every inch of my skin. It’s obvious in all the things I do. This evening I shredded her dress. I would try to reassure myself it was a knee-jerk reaction, but I had plenty of time from the bar to Lusso to reason with myself. I chose not to. It wasn’t a knee-jerk reaction. It was a demonstration of my desperation. Only, she doesn’t know that, and I can’t expect her compassion and understanding while she’s so completely in the dark.

My sigh is long and tired as I break away from her body and sit up against the headboard, and with a lack of my chest supporting her sleeping form, she rolls onto her back. I stare down at her beautiful, sleeping face. “I love you,” I whisper, hating myself for not being able to tell her that. And yet, I know I’m expressing my love in so many other ways. She must see that.