He hadn't asked about my trip again. Which scared me more than if he had.
Aiden was watching me more closely now. I could feel it.
Little things.
The way he paused at the doorway before leaving, the way his fingers grazed my arm longer than necessary, the way his eyes scanned the room when he walked in like cataloging what had moved while he was away.
I tried to act normal, stay quiet, fold clothes the way he liked, pour his whiskey before he asked, look at him like I wasn't hiding something.
Because I was. God, I was.
That envelope sat behind the hollowed-out copy of wuthering heights, like a ticking clock with my name etched on it. I hadn't touched it since. I didn't dare.
Three nights passed like that. Tension stretched thin across hours I couldn't hold onto.
And then came the
