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"I'm trying to be in it too," I whispered. "It's just... hard sometimes."

"I know." He pulled me back down to him, his arms wrapping around me securely. "We'll figure it out together, okay? Day by day."

I nodded against his chest, letting his steady heartbeat soothe me. Day by day. I could do that.

We fell asleep like that, wrapped in each other, and for once, I didn't dream of the past or worry about the future. I was simply present, in this moment, with this man who somehow saw through all my defences and wanted me anyway.

Morning came too soon,sunlight streaming through the curtains I'd forgotten to close. I blinked awake to find Con already up, sitting on the edge of the bed pulling on his jeans.

"Sneaking out?" I asked, my voice husky with sleep.

He turned, his face breaking into a smile that made my heart flip. "Never. Just didn't want to wake you. I've got an early shift."

"What time is it?"

"Six-thirty."

I groaned and buried my face in the pillow. "That's not morning. That's still night."

Con laughed and leaned over to press a kiss to my shoulder. "Some of us have to work for a living, princess."

I turned my head to glare at him, but there was no heat in it. "Call me princess again and see what happens."

"Noted." He stood and finished dressing, then sat back down beside me. "Dinner again tonight? My place this time? We have a pretty good staff kitchen.”

The casual invitation, the assumption that we'd want to spend another evening together, filled me with a warm glow. This was what normal people did, wasn't it? Made plans, spent time together, built something day by day.

"I'd like that," I said. "But fair warning, I have high standards. I've been spoiled by a certain chef who feeds me regularly."

"James?" Con asked with mock outrage. "I'll have you know I'm a much better cook than he is."

I laughed and pulled him down for a kiss. "Prove it."

Chapter 21

Geri

The next four weeks passed like Groundhog Day, really. We worked, and we spent time together. Con would always cook for me at his place or take me to dinner in town. He was right—he did cook better than James, and he made a killer grilled cheese sandwich, which was a staple in staff accommodation.

We had to share rooms with others. Con had two boys in his room: his brother and his best friend. Con had explained they had gone to school together, and even though they were super close, they didn't hang around each other all that much. I mean, sure, men were strange like that with their mates, but I had wondered if maybe it was because he gave me all his spare time and not his mates.

It was during that fourth week that something in me changed. What it was, I wasn't sure. I would later come to find out it was fear, but it was there all the same.

We had gone to the pub for dinner and drinks, a rare night when a lot of us had off at the same time. We had drunk and danced, and the one and only small nightclub under the pub had opened, and we had travelled down there to continue. I hadgotten a lot drunker than I was used to, and one of the guys had asked if we wanted to get high.

I thought, fuck it. I had been sober now for nearly three years. I had my head on right, and I was even allowing someone into my life again.

I had swallowed that pill without much thought. I wasn't sure if maybe the alcohol had loosened me up enough for me to believe that I could do a one-and-done type of thing, but it had been a great night.

Until I had woken up naked in the arms of Con, with no memory of how I had gotten here or the sex we had clearly had.

Con's room was two sets of bunk beds, and Con had this sheet tucked around the bottom one where he slept so it was like a cocoon in there—you couldn't see in or out. But I was naked, and it triggered something in me. I wasn't sure why that of all things had done it, but it had. I crawled out, found my clothes, dressed, and ran back to my hotel.

I had packed nearly all my things by the time Con had woken up and found me.

He was confused, asking me what was wrong. I, of course, gave him nothing. Just that I'd gotten a call and needed to go back home. I would call him.

He was hurt. I could see it in his eyes, but I had nothing for him—no reason for this rush, no reason for the running. All I knew was I had outstayed my welcome, and I needed to go now. I walked my stuff to the car, handed in my instant resignation, which I was told didn't work that way, but I didn't care, and left.