January 3, 2026.
We didn’t leave his bed for most of the day.
Mia was at a friend’s cabin for the weekend—some post-holiday getaway with a group from work. We had the house to ourselves. Rare. Precious.
After the jealousy spiked yesterday, neither of us wanted to let it fester.
We showered together in the morning, slow and gentle, then ended up back under the covers with coffee cooling on the nightstand.
Damien lay on his back, one arm behind his head, the other around me as I traced lazy patterns on his chest.
“We need to talk about it,” I said quietly. “The jealousy thing.”
He exhaled. “Yeah. We do.”
I propped myself on an elbow to see his face. “It’s not just you. I felt it too—with Sarah’s text. And I hated it.”
He nodded, eyes on the ceiling. “I’ve never been this way. Not ev
