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I wake up and spread out across the bed lazily, naked and warmly encased in the duvet. Arry’s side of the bed is rumpled and empty as he did eventually get up and go to Carrero house to do whatever it is he needed to get done. I don’t know how long I have slept but I can tell by the grey dullness of the light it has probably been most of the day, if not all, and I have screwed up my bed time for tonight. I feel better though. Less all over the place and just lazily content.

We talked for a good long hour, about everything, about school and Paris, about my mean girls and Claude and he did eventually put me out of my misery and make love to me. It was different, maybe because we poured our hearts out and cleared the air first and by the end, I was an emotional mess and so fragile. It wasn’t passionate or frenzied like normal. It was soft, slow, and intimate and I fell asleep cradled in his arms, listening to his strong heartbeat. Even though we didn’t ac