KATIE LAY ON HER BACK in the dark, watching the lights of New York play on the ceiling. Brendan couldn’t sleep either — she could hear his quiet breathing from the bed next to hers, and the occasional rustle of the sheets as he turned over.
“This is terrible,” she said, flinging an arm out from under the blankets to reach for him.
Across the gap between the beds his fingers found hers, just like they had in so many hotel rooms after so many competitions all over the world.
“What is?”
“The lights,” she said. “How does anyone sleep?”
“I’m pretty sure they draw the curtains.” He was judging her. She could hear it in his voice.
“Even if you draw the curtains, it’s still there.”
“Do you want me to respond to that?” Brendan asked.
“I’m not lying here because I want you to be quiet.”
Bre
