* * *
Daphne awoke an hour or so later, surprised that she'd fallen asleep at all. Simon still lay next to her, snoring softly. They were both dressed, he in his whiskey-scented clothes, and she in her night-robe.
Gently, she touched his cheek. "What am I to do with you?" she whispered. "I love you, you know. I love you, but I hate what you're doing to yourself." She drew a shaky breath. "And to me. I hate what you're doing to me."
He shifted sleepily, and for one horrified moment, she was afraid that he'd woken up. "Simon?"
she whispered, then let out a relieved exhale when he didn't answer. She knew she shouldn't have spoken words aloud that she wasn't quite ready for him to hear, but he'd looked so innocent against the snowy white pillows. It was far too easy to spill her innermost
