Page 274 of Silver Sweet

Thank you for loving him and caring about him.

I’ll do the same.

Je le promets,

Tom Carraway Cobalt

I crush my hand over my welling eyes, emotion barreling into me so fast.Tom.Fucking Tom. It’s taking everything in me to stay still and silent. Releasing a staggered breath, I carefully foldthe paper into thirds, set it aside on the nightstand, and then I slip back down the bed.

Tom is on his side now. I edge up to him and wrap my arm around his chest. He makes a noise of content, then slides his hand up and down my forearm.

I fall asleep holding him.

65

TOM COBALT

Iwake in the middle of the night to see Phoenix sound asleep. It’s my favorite rare event. Too rare, really. Maybe one day it’ll be my favorite reoccurrence.

I’ll nevereverconfess that he kicked me awake and disrupted my beautiful sleep pattern. There are some things you have to take to your grave for the people you love most. This is definitely one of those things.

He’s tangled in the black silk sheets, and I smile watching his deep slumber. My face heats more remembering his lips on mine, his body on mine, after two months apart. It was everything my soul wanted.

It’s going to make him leaving at the end of the week an agonizing experience. I don’t know how to prepare myself for the moment I say goodbye to Phoenix again.

Holy shit, I need to not think about sad things at this precious hour. He’s asleep. We fucked like superstars. Everything is better than I hoped it could be.

Then it hits me—I never put a tie on the fucking door to signal ado not enterto Ben.

Great, great.

In my defense, I was totally in the moment and not thinking about my roommate situation. Then again, Ben knew Phoenix would be coming over tonight, so maybe he just crashed on the pull-out and didn’t attempt to enter.

I crawl out of bed to check on him.

Using my phone’s flashlight, I make a quiet search for my boxer-briefs on the floor. I slip them on and then peer behind the privacy curtain. Ben’s bed is made, blue-green quilt neatly tucked into the wooden frame.

Mister Feathers dozes off on his perch by the window, and the city glitters Ben’s side of the room. New York is beautiful tonight. Truly.

I backtrack to reach the door, passing my bed—Phoenix still asleep—and I make a quiet exit.

I’m louder heading to the darkened living room. Hoping Ben is awake so I can tell him tonight was the best night. Greatest. Worth the wait—not that I want to wait that long to see my boyfriend again. But I will.

“Ben Pirrip,” I whisper, about to scale the back of the couch and slide down onto the pull-out beside him.

I skid to a complete stop.

The pull-out mattress isn’t unfurled from the couch. No one is lying longways on the cushions. No extra blankets are out. No bed pillows anywhere. He didn’t sleep on the couch then. I check the time on my phone. 2 a.m.

He should be here.

He’s not allowed at Harriet’s dorm past 10 p.m.

It doesn’t hit me at first. Reality. My frown feels like a hundred pounds weighing me down. I turn on my feet. Like maybe he’s playing a prank and right behind me. But that wouldn’t even makesense.Ben doesn’t pull pranks, and there’s just emptiness and shadows as I spin around.

I intake a short breath and dial his number. Hand on my head, I breathe deeply. Once, twice?—

“Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system.” I hear the mechanical response. I call him again and again while I check the entire apartment. I’m being sent straight to voicemail over and over and over.