I wake up because of the light. It takes me a few seconds to find my bearings. I’m in the guest room on the second floor of my parents’ house. With Lauryn. It must be at least nine-thirty, judging by the amount of sunshine that passes through my still closed eyelids.
Unbelievable! I never sleep this late, not even on weekends. I reach out and grope for Lauryn. My goal is to touch her chest and feel it rise up against my hand. Then I’m going to get closer to her and breathe in her delicate skin, where her neck meets her shoulder. This is by far the best way to start the day. I love the smell of her skin in the morning when her flowery fragrance has disappeared and there is just her scent—sweet, feminine.
But Lauryn isn’t there. I open my eyes and grab my watch from the bedside table. It’s
