The bedroom.
Our bedroom.
I kicked off my shoes and left my clothes in a heap before climbing into bed.
Our bed.
Huh.
***
A mug of coffee was waiting on the nightstand when I woke up. I stole a look at the clock on George’s side, blinking when it read eight thirty p.m. I had slept all afternoon?
Damn jet lag.
I inhaled the rich scent of the coffee before taking my first sip. It was still piping hot, and my eyes flit to the open bedroom door. I couldn’t hear anything—no television, no music, no low rumble of his voice.
I placed the cup back on the side and grabbed some shorts and a tank from the closet. Seeing my clothes nex