Claire's POV
I woke at six-fifteen with the clarity of someone who had not slept so much as lain in the dark thinking.
Not anxious thinking. The quiet circling kind — going over the same territory repeatedly not because it was unresolved but because it was new and the mind wanted to make sure it was real before committing to it.
His hand on my face.
Not this. Not you. I haven't been able to strategy this since the morning you walked through my door.
The hallway. The space between us that had known what it was before either of us had. Theo's dragon arriving at the precise moment the universe had apparently scheduled.
Tomorrow. Can we have lunch again.
Philippe will be pleased.
I had lain on my side of the arrangement looking at the ceiling and thought: something has changed. Not dra
