“Sleep now, darling. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
***
I wake up to the smell of waffles being made, the butter sizzling on the waffle iron, the smell of rising dough making my stomach growl even in half-sleep as I am now. My body aches in a whole bunch of places, muscles in my abs and hips that haven’t been used in a long time making themselves known under protest as I stretch in Ayden’s bed. Weak sunlight comes through his closed curtains, and I wonder what time it is and how late I let myself sleep in.
I never let myself sleep in—it’s a sin against the sun, and since the Torontonian winter always feels like it’s around the corner, nighttime at three-thirty in the afternoon is going to become a reality much faster than I realize.
I stretch, hearing something c***k in my shoulde
