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"What’s wrong?"

"I think you’re experiencing sub drop," he explains.

"What does that mean?" I can take a guess based on the context, and it’s somewhat relieving to know there’s a label to put on this mess of emotions, but I still want to hear his explanation.

I lay my head against his shoulder, and his rumbling voice calms me. "It’s a normal reaction after intense scenes like what we did at the club. Your endorphins get really high, then they drop later, which can cause some negative emotions. I’m sorry, baby. I should’ve taken better care of you tonight." His tone is laced with guilt and regret.

"It’s not your fault," I say. "You took good care of me. I just felt worse and worse once we got home, and I didn’t know what to do. I thought maybe something was just wrong with me." I wipe away more tears with my fingers,wishing they would stop.

"There’s nothing wrong with you. Not even a little bit. I should’ve done more to make sure you were alright."

"I just—" I take a shaky breath, not wanting to admit my insecurity but knowing it’ll continue weighing on me if I don’t "—I worry that maybe I’m just a distraction for you. Someone to play with until you get bored or find someone else."

He shakes his head and squeezes me tighter. "I promise you that’s not the case. You’re so much more than that to me, and I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel like I’m using you."

I’ve come to understand that he’s not the best at expressing his emotions, but I can feel the sincerity of his words and hear all the things he’s not saying. And even though I wish he would say more, that he would tell me exactly what he’s thinking and how he’s feeling, this is enough for now.

He pulls me further back on the bed and lies down next to me, holding me tightly and kissing me softly. The sadness slowly falls away, replaced by comfort and a glimmer of hope for the future, even though I know that hoping for more is a stupid, dangerous thing.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

MARK

Claire’s voice floats through the apartment as she hums a song I don’t know, but the sound of her constant presence is comforting. I always hated having other people in my space, but with Claire, it feels different.

She’s in the kitchen, her voice mixing with the sounds of clattering pans and running water while I sit at my desk and attempt to work. I could close the door and drown out the noise, but I don’t think it’s the sound of Claire doing chores that’s distracting me so much today. It’s my own mind.

Everything that’s happened over the past few months has been a whirlwind that’s left me feeling more alive than I have in years—possibly ever. And it’s all because of her.

Claire has brought a light into my life that I didn't know I was missing. I find myself actively looking forward to my days rather than going through them doing whatever I can to keep myself entertained. A small part of me wonders what it wouldbe like if I asked her to stay, to make this arrangement more permanent. She surely has enough money now to find a place of her own, but neither of us has mentioned that fact. The thought of going back to living alone, to coming home to an empty apartment and knowing she won’t be here, hurts more than I care to admit.

My phone rings, jarring me from my thoughts. I glance at the screen and see Shane's name. I haven't heard from him since the vacation, though that’s my fault just as much as his.

"Hey, man," I answer at the same time the shower turns on down the hall.

"Hey, how’s it going?"

"Can’t complain," I say. "Working, hanging out, the usual. How’s wedding planning?"

"Still a little chaotic, but it’s coming together. Feels like every time we cross something off the list, two more things pop up."

I chuckle, not envying him one bit. "That sounds about right."

There’s a pause before Shane asks, "And how’s Claire doing?"

"She’s good. She has finals next week, so lots of studying."

"Well, tell her we say good luck. You guys officially dating yet?" he chuckles.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "You know I don’t do relationships."

"Ugh, you’re still on about that? Seriously, dude."

"It’s a good thing I don’t remember asking for your opinion," I say, trying not to let my annoyance get the better of me. Why does he have to dig into the topic every time we talk? "We’re having fun and getting along. Is that not enough of an answer for you?"

Shane sounds just as annoyed as I feel when he replies, "Honestly? Both of you are obsessed with each other, and she’s too afraid to tell you while you’re too much of a pussy to put yourself out there. Seriously, man, you’re making yourself miserable."

"Thanks for that enlightening insight, but I’m perfectly happy, actually."