Page 86 of In Somnis

“I guess your furniture is still in transit?” I ask, already calculating which of my guest rooms has the best light, the most comfortable bed, the closest proximity to mine. “You’re staying with me until it gets here. I have four guest rooms that look like hotel suites compared to… this.”

She shrugs and looks almost amused. “Nothing’s coming. My stuff’s in a storage unit in Boston. I’ll pick up a few things while I’m here.”

The words hit me like a slap.

While I’m here.

“You’re not planning to stay?”

Those haunting, light-blue eyes lock me in place for a long beat before she releases me and lifts a shoulder. “I haven’t decided yet.”

You will. You’ll decide the second I get my hands on you properly, and if you decide to leave anyway, that’s fine. I’ll simply follow you.

She walks into the kitchen and comes back with a muffin in her hand, holding it out to me as if it’s something precious. “Here. For patching me up.”

It’s a perfect, innocent blueberry muffin. I stare at it and have to swallow down the full-body shudder that wants to overtake me, then take it with a forced, “Thank you.”

“What?” She catches my expression and laughs. “Not into sweets?”

“I’m… not a dessert person.” Understatement of the century.

“I like a challenge. I’ll figure out what you actually like,” she promises, reaching to take the muffin back.

I pull it out of reach on pure instinct. “I’m keeping it.”

Her mouth twitches. “That’s… so not weird.”

Christ, I want to kiss that smirk off her face.

Instead, I glance around the barren apartment one more time and make a silent vow. This is getting fixed, starting with a bed frame and dresser for her clothes.

“So… what now?” she asks, exhaustion lacing her voice.

“Now, I’m gonna go make sure the inn is covered tonight.”

“Can I… give you my number?” She bites her lip nervously. “Just in case you can’t find anyone, and I need to come in after all?”

The smile that takes over my face feels too big.

“I want your number anyway, Lennon.” I pull my phone out, unlock it, and hand it over. “You only beat me to asking.”

She blushes the prettiest pink, then types quickly and hands me the phone back.

Lennon Maes. God, that sounds beautiful.

“I’ll text you.” Stepping in, I lean down slowly and press a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, just beside that beauty mark, close enough to feel her inhale.

Then I straighten, memorize the way she looks in the dim entry light—bare legs, my hoodie, wide, light blue eyes—and walk out before I do something stupid like throw her over my shoulder and carry her home for good.

The second the door clicks shut behind me, I’m grinning like a lunatic. I jog down the stairs, slide into the driver’s seat, and let a low, triumphant laugh rip out of me.

I found her. And I didn’t murder her.

I make the call before I start the car, and Renée picks up on the second ring.

“Paul? Everything okay?”

“Everything’s perfect.” I’m still grinning so hard at the muffin in my hand, my face hurts. “Tell me you’re free tonight, because I’ve got a favor to ask. And Renée?”