The light that came through Rena's curtains was the pale, noncommittal grey of early morning — not quite dawn, not quite day — and Nathan woke into it slowly, the way he woke into most things. Aware before he opened his eyes. Taking inventory.
He was in Rena's bed. In Rena's room. Which was exactly where he'd expected to be.
He turned onto his side.
She was still there.
He hadn't entirely expected that.
Rena lay with her back to him — the sheet pulled up to her shoulder blades, blond hair loose and tangled against the pillow, the bare line of her spine disappearing beneath the linen. Still. Breathing. Present in a way that felt, for someone like Rena, almost defiant.
"I thought you'd certainly be gone by morning," Nathan said, and the amusement in his voice was unhurried and genuine. "You, still laying next to me. Didn't see that coming."
Silence.
