NOLA
I wake up to a woman’s laughter.
It’s soft at first, low, familiar in a way that makes my stomach tighten before my mind even understands why.
I lie still, staring at the ceiling, listening.
Another laugh.
Not mine.
Not the house staff.
A woman.
Downstairs.
My heart starts beating faster, and I don’t even know why.
I throw the blanket off and slide out of bed, pulling one of Rhett’s shirts over my sleep shorts. It still smells like him. Cedarwood.
I step into the hallway quietly.
Voices drift up from the living room.
His voice, warmer than usual.
I move closer to the railing and look down.
And then I see her.
She’s standing in the center of the room, long dark hair cascading over her shoulders, tall, confident, dressed in fitted black jeans and a cream blouse that hugs
