The next time I woke, light seeped into the room from the edges of the drapes. Conner was no longer curled around me, though one of his hands still lightly held my forearm from where he lay as though he’d managed to keep tabs on me even in sleep.
He didn’t budge when I slipped from the bed. I wondered how late he’d come home. Not wanting to bother him and nowhere near comfortable enough for him to hear me pee, I used a guest bathroom before heading to the kitchen.
Conner had a surprising number of breakfast options, including bagels in the pantry and cream cheese in the fridge. Since he’d cooked for me the evening before, I thought I might throw some pancakes together. But first, coffee.
I opened cabinets until I found a coffee bar with an espresso machine and a Keurig. Next to it was a
