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Sleeping over becomes part of our new normal, and it was way easier than I anticipated it would be. We don’t cuddle, or chit chat, or anything acouplewould do. It’s still oddly comforting just to know she’s next to me on those nights.

My bed has never felt so empty during the rest of them.

I let as much slip one day, and she walked right through my front door and asked me which room was mine. We’ve never done anything at my place before, by pure habit or what, I’m not sure.

But it’s still true, because all she did was slide beneath my blanket and close her eyes.

It’s been a few days of going back and forth, and now we only sleep alone when my daughter’s home. I can’t let myself worry about the why, or what it means for us. I’m just letting myself enjoy it.

It helpsa lotthat she hasn’t played music a single night since. I don’t question that, worrying that bringing it up might remind her that she does still want to be torturing me.

We fooled around in her luxurious bed last night, and then she insisted that we sleep in my underwhelming one. I thought it was too late to bother, but she dragged me back over to my own apartment.

I’ve noticed she sleeps better in my bed. There’s a lot less tossing and turning. I wonder about all the reasons why that could be. The smells are different, the temperature is different, the feel is different. My room is messy and lived in, and hers is always clean and pristine.

I wonder which parent that trait came from. Not that I know which is which, the good or the bad. Pierre or the other.

I find myself wondering a lot. There are so many missing puzzle pieces to this woman, and I’m not even going to pretend I don’t want them all.

My phone buzzes next to me, jarring me awake rather suddenly. I could’ve lied here and thought my thoughts for hours, probably.

I groan when I read the too-bright screen.

“Shit. My parents are going to be here any second. You have to get up.”

Kara sits up quickly, but her eyes are barely able to open.

“What the fuck do you mean your parents are going to be here any second?”

I flash my phone screen at her, showing a text as evidence. Actually it’s four text messages and two missed calls. This was a bad time for me to be a heavy sleeper.

“Why?” she moans. I ignore that my first instinct is to crawl under the blankets and make her really moan.

“You have to go. Seriously.”

“Why can’t I hide in here until they’re gone?”

I laugh, loudly. It makes Kara jump.

“That’s not how my parents work. They’re nosy. They roam.” She still doesn’t move. “Come on!”

“Maybe it’s fine if they find me,” she says as her head slumps back against my headboard.

“I can’t believe those words just came out of you.” I shake my head. “But no. Please no. Please get up, and get out of my house.”

I lean over her just long enough to place a quick kiss on her nose. To soften the blow maybe, but I can’t help but feel like it’s a wrong move. I pull back quickly, expecting the worst from her response, but she barely seems to have registered it.

She’s still barely awake.

“You really know how to make a girl feel special.” She throws the blankets off of her body and finally starts to move. Without pants on. “I’m not putting pants on to walk two feet outside.”

“You could take offmoreclothing if that would get you moving quicker.”

I know she must really be exhausted when she doesn’t respond with anything dirty or sarcastic.

I see where her pants lay on the floor, and I watch her step over them as she exits my bedroom. I pick them up, figuring she’ll just be irritated later when she can’t find them because they’re mixed in with my laundry.