I shove these thoughts from my mind and climb the stairs to Ezra’s apartment as quietly as possible. The door is unlocked, which doesn’t really surprise me. Slipping inside, I shed my shoes and soundlessly make my way across the smooth hardwood. He’s left the oven hood light on, which guides me down the hall and to his bedroom. The door is wide open. I don’t even realize I’ve been holding my breath until the exhale of relief comes. There is only one sleeping form in his bed.

Standing over him, I study his face, the slight part of his lips, the deep-purple shade of his closed eyelids—the vulnerability making him even more handsome. Listening to the rhythmic sound of his deep breathing calms me. I planned on waking him up immediately to tell him about the intruder and my chase across the island, but he’s so deeply asleep, so peaceful, I don’t feel right disturbing him.

Instead I slip my pants off and pull my sweat shirt over my head before easing my way into his bed. He groans and rolls away, allowing me to settle in beside him. Then he rolls back, his arm coming down to pin me in place. I expect him to say something, but his breathing is deep and he’s silent.

I work hard to settle into the safe closeness that Ezra offers, to relax into sleep. I manage to shed most of the anxiety I brought with me from Avril Island, but one question keeps surfacing that creates a new kind of unease. Why did a woman slipping into his bed unexpectedly, in the dead of night, not wake him in alarm?

When I open my eyes, I’m not sure where I am. A familiar panic rises in me; it’s not the first time I’ve woken up in a strange bed. Then I remember. I’m not that person anymore, and I came to Ezra’s last night. He materializes with the thought of him.

“Good morning, gorgeous.” He holds a cup of coffee out to me.

I push myself into a sitting position to take it. “You’re a very accommodating host. I show up announced, get into bed with you, and then you bring me coffee in the morning.”

“You can get into bed with me unannounced any night, my dear.” He sits down on the edge of the bed. “But in all seriousness, what the hell brought you across the lake in the middle of the night?” He takes a sip and studies me over the rim of his mug.

I run a hand through my bed head. “You won’t believe what happened last night,” I say, still not quite believing it myself. “I was dead asleep, and the sound of music woke me up. I went downstairs and the record player was playing.” I pause for dramatic effect. “On its own.”