It didn’t take a genius to understand why I couldn’t sleep, yet I’d still tried my best to ignore the fact that I wasn’t alone in my apartment, that everything was just as it should be. The only issue was that my mind was determined not to let me forget about it, to forget about my wife’s presence in my home. Ever since I’d left her crying in the car, it had been all I could see when I closed my eyes at night—she was all I could see, the look in her eyes. So lost and confused. The fact that I’d practically pushed her—us—into this wasn’t helping at all. Hell, I didn’t even know what to feel anymore, other than guilt that is. I was drowning in guilt. And living under the same roof with Rose…it was helping nothing at all.
Looking down at Central Park as I leaned on the railing, I tried to clear my mind so I could get back to bed and get at least a few hours of sleep in order to actually face and survive the next day and the upcoming days. But, after standing out there for God knows how long, I decided it was a futile endeavor. Just as I was turning around, I saw Rose turn the corner at the end of the terrace and let out a loud gasp when she spotted me.
One hand against her heart, the other on her knee, she bent down. Letting the blanket she was bundled in hang from her shoulders, she started to cough as if she was choking on something. Without comment, I moved toward her, and before I could decide whether I should try to help her or not, she straightened up. Her face was completely flushed, her chest falling and rising rapidly.
A second later the cause of her reaction became more clear when she opened her fist and showed me a half-eaten Snickers bar. “You almost killed me,” she wheezed out, her words barely making any sense.
“Excuse me?”
“I was dying,” she mumbled after attempting to clear her throat again. Finally regaining her composure, she released a long breath and pulled the blanket around herself.
“I saw that.” Thinking it’d make her feel more comfortable, I turned away from her and faced the city in front of us.
After another deep breath and a cough, she took the last few steps to stand next to me. “It’s getting chilly,” she commented quietly, and I automatically glanced down at her feet. She was wearing socks, but she was resting one of her feet on top of the other.
“You might want to wear thicker socks,” I commented, and her gaze followed mine down to her feet and she shifted in place. “But, yes, the weather is changing. You couldn’t sleep?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her look up at me and shake her head. I kept my eyes on the city.
“Nope. You couldn’t either?” she asked, filling the silence between us.
“I tend to wake up early.” That was what I was telling myself, and I certainly didn’t want her to think I was struggling with having her in my space.
She hugged the blanket tighter.
“I hope your bed was comfortable.”
Another quick glance at me. “It was. It’s really comfortable and big. It’s my first night here and it’s a strange place, you know. I thought I heard something when I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep.”
“I understand.” I didn’t prod for more details, but she kept going.
“I’ll get used to it. I did manage to pass out for two hours—I was too tired not to—but then I woke up and my stomach decided it was a good time to remind me that I hadn’t eaten anything in twelve hours, so…” Lifting her hand from under the blanket, she showed me the remaining few bites of her candy bar. “Here I am with the Snickers I found in my bag. I’d give you a piece, but…”
“I think I’ll live. You should’ve told me you were hungry when we first came in. We do have a kitchen downstairs.”
I glanced at her then and she looked up at me with a smile. “A kitchen? What a novelty. As tempting as that sounds, if I eat anything more than this, I’ll stay up all night and I won’t be able to do anything tomorrow. I need to start getting ready in a few hours anyway, so this will hold