Author POV
Morning light spilled across the penthouse bedroom—pale, quiet, the city only beginning to stir beyond the glass walls.
Peter lay still, staring at the ceiling for a moment before turning his head.
Lara-Jean was beside him, curled gently against his side, her hair a dark, soft mess against the pillow. The warmth of her presence caught him off guard.
He had expected the opposite.
Distance. Silence. Suspicion.
After yesterday, that would have been reasonable.
But she was still here.
She stirred, blinking awake slowly, then tilted her head up to look at him.
“Morning,” she said.
Her voice was warm. Normal.
Peter frowned slightly. “Morning.”
She studied his face for a moment, her gaze sharp despite the softness in her expression. “Why do you look like someone just told
