Chapter Nine
Dylan
January 4th saw me back at Jen’s cabin, a weekend stay that extended until I had to work. We slept and made love on the guest bed. She explained that she’d rarely touched her bed since Lee’s death. A deeply personal thing I couldn’t quite comprehend, but I didn’t press.
When I next came up in February, the master bedroom had been redecorated.
“Did you do this for me?”
“I did it for me,” she said. “It was time to clear out the last of my old life.”
“And how are you sleeping?”
“Well enough, all things considered.” She fingered the buttons on my henley tee. “You weren’t here.”
I caressed her cheek. “You can come to me whenever you want, you know.”
“After this book is finished.”
“You’ve had a month, Miss Donovan, and you write full time.” I backed her to the bed.
