Page 227 of Sweet Nightmare

twenty-nine

. . .

Warm Brown Eyes

"My routine is a beautiful thing.

Until a six-foot-tall rapper started ruining it." — A

I dream of warm brown eyes and soft lips.

Stephen’s.

He follows me into my dreams. His kiss does too. The warmth of his hand against my cheek. The way he looked at me as though I were something precious. The feeling of his hard body pressed against mine and then⁠—

My eyes snap open and I reach blindly for my phone to check the hour.

9:47 a.m.

I stare at the screen.

Blink.

Stare again.

Nine forty-seven.

In the morning.

My usual wake-up time is six-thirty.

Six-thirty.

Every morning.

For years.

My mornings have structure. Order. Predictability.

I wake up at 6:30.

I drink water.

I stretch.

I shower.

I do my skincare.

I have breakfast.

I read for a little while.

I answer emails.

I also get some work done.

And everything happens when it is supposed to happen.