Go to sleep.
My door opens, and I close my eyes. I feel the bed dip. “Hey,” Tristan whispers. “Where’s my good night kiss?”
The lump in my throat is so big that I can’t speak. I screw up my face in the darkness.
Please go away.
He leans down to kiss me and stops. “You’re crying.”
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“No, I’m not,” I whisper through tears.
“Hey.” He flicks the lamp on, and his face falls. “Baby, what’s wrong?” he whispers.
I scrunch my lips together tight, because nothing I say will make sense. Not even to me.
His eyes search mine. “What is it?”
I shake my head, embarrassed. “I’m just getting my period—overemotional,” I lie. “I’m sorry. It’s nothing. I get like this sometimes.”
He lies down beside me and pulls me into his arms and holds me tight, and the kindness of the act makes me lose it. I scrunch my face up in tears against his chest.
“Shh,” he murmurs into my hair. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
This isn’t who you are. Stop being so fucking nice!
“Yes,” I whisper.
He kisses my forehead as he holds me.
He feels so warm and here . . . and kind . . . and loveable . . . and here.
“I don’t like you being upset,” he murmurs. “I’m staying here with you.”
“No, Tris. You can’t—the kids.”
“I’m not leaving you upset like this,” he whispers.
“Baby, I’m fine. I’m just emotional. Hormones. It sucks being a woman sometimes. I’ll see you in the morning?” I smile through tears.
He pushes my hair back from my forehead as he stares down at me. The air swirls between us, and I want to blurt out why I’m crying.
Because I think that I love him and that I’m going to lose him too.
He opens his mouth, as if he wants to say something, but he doesn’t.
Unspoken words hang between us, a promise . . . a feeling . . . a curse.
“Good night, Claire.”
I smile softly through tears, and I cup his face with my hand. I run my thumb over his stubble. “You’re such a beautiful man, Tristan,” I whisper.
He smiles. “Those hormones are making you crazy.”
I giggle, and then he bends and slowly kisses me. The guilt comes back, and I screw up my face in tears against his.
“Claire.” His eyes search mine. “Talk to me.”