Pauline's POV
The sound of scraping wood jolted me from sleep. A muffled thunk followed, making me squint into the morning light filtering through my bedroom window.
I groaned softly, forcing my body to leave the warmth of my covers. The soft rumble of snoring drifted from the living room, reminding me that Arnold had crashed on the couch again.
There he was, head tilted at an uncomfortable angle against the cushions, one arm hanging limply toward the floor. I had joked with Logan before about Arnold and me sharing a bed occasionally, but the reality was far more innocent. Arnold never crossed that line. When exhaustion from his business trips brought him here, he claimed the couch without complaint or expectation. He never pushed for more, even though this house technically belonged to him.
A quiet laugh escaped me as I watched his parted lips and steady breathing. Dark circles shadowed his eyes even in sleep. His latest work trip had clearly drained him.
