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Chapter Nine

Slowly and with much care, Enrique opened his eyes.

He felt strange. It felt like he was seeing the room for the first time.

It was his own room, in a house he owned. It shouldn’t feel this strange. He stared at the slowly rotating ceiling fan above him, wondering what was different this morning. Something happened last night. Something beautiful that he couldn't remember.

Was it a dream? Dreams always escaped him as soon as he woke up.

He was lying naked on his bed. But that wasn't new.

He turned and, without thinking, reached for something... someone—an involuntary action remembered by his body before his mind could catch up with him.

Then he frowned.

Well.

No one was there.

Of course, there wasn't anyone. His split with Helene was several weeks ago, and he might not have accepted it yet, but he stopped doing that... reaching for her in his bed when he woke up in the morning.

He'd stopped looking for her warmth in his bed a long time ago. In fact, he now felt revulsion at the memory
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