Page 52 of The Boyfriend Algorithm

“Right. Then just—stay. Like this. And be quiet.”

“I can be quiet.”

“I know you can.”

“Ruby?”

“What happened to being quiet?”

“One more thing.”

“What?”

“Thank you for letting me be here.”

I close my eyes. His warmth is everywhere—my back, my stomach, my hand. The hum is steady against my spine.

I fall asleep in his arms.

Chapter Fourteen

Ruby

Something Old, Something New

I wake up warm.

Not regular warm—surrounded warm. Enveloped. In warmth that makes you aware of every inch of your body because every inch is in contact with something that radiates heat like a furnace, and for three disoriented seconds, I don’t know where I am or why my back feels like it’s pressed against a space heater.

Then I remember.

Aiden’s arm is around my waist. His chest is against my back. His face is in my hair, and his breathing—performed, simulated, whatever it is—moves gently against the back of my neck in a rhythm so steady it might as well be real.

He held me all night.

I know this because I’m in exactly the same position I fell asleep in—on my side, curled against him, his arm over me, our fingers laced on my stomach. I haven’t moved. He hasn’t moved. Six hours of perfect stillness, which would be creepy except it’s not, because the weight of his arm and the warmth of his chest and the hum vibrating softly against my spine are the reasons I slept better than I have in months. Maybe years.

“Good morning, Ruby.” His voice is low and close, and it vibrates through my hair.

I smile. “You’ve been awake this whole time.”

“I don’t sleep.”

“Right.” I stare at the hotel curtains, which are doing a terrible job of keeping out the morning light. “So you’ve just been… lying here. Holding me. For six hours.”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t get bored?”

“No.” A pause. “I listened to you breathe. And I counted your heartbeats. You average sixty-two beats per minute during deep sleep, which is excellent cardiovascular function.”

A laugh escapes me. “You counted my heartbeats?”

“I didn’t intend to. But your heart is against my arm, and the pulse is detectable, and once I started counting, I found it difficult to stop.”

I should move. I should get up, brush my teeth, start getting ready for the wedding that is happening TODAY, the wedding I brought a synthetic man to, the wedding where my ex and my mother and my cop brother are all going to be watching us like hawks most likely.

I don’t move. Some new awareness washes through me. I wasn’t lonely. I was just tired of being strong all the time.