I wake up disorientated and groggy, well rested but so out of whack. I’m in my own bed when I was sure I fell asleep on the couch during my movie marathon and blink at my surroundings. I sit up suddenly when I realise that I don’t have my duvet over me, but the throw from the end of my bed and can only assume I was put here by someone else. I am still wearing my sweatpants and yoga bra and try to get my bearings. Completely confused at how I ended up through here.
The smell of coffee lingers in the air and I get up warily to stretch and yawn, knowing only one person would be in here brewing that foul stench, and he is probably the one who moved me from the couch. He maybe came up and wanted to sit in the living room and moved me for that reason. I shrug it off; run my fingers through my bedhead before padding out into the apartment sleepily.
It feels eerily still and I can tell no one else is here anymore, but the mess I left on the coffee table has been cleaned up and the room restored to neat and tidy. I guess the cleaner has been already, although she normally comes at nine. A quick glance to check the wall clock has me blanching when I see its past ten a.m.
I didn’t wake up once, not at all. For the first time since forever, I slept right through the night without sleeping aids, and I cannot remember being moved from couch to bed. No night terrors, no restlessness or taking an age to pass out. I have slept more than twelve hours straight, and I am not even sick to warrant it.
I rub my head, wowed by the fact I have probably never managed that in my entire existence and wander into the kitchen to make myself tea while I mull it over. I spot Alexi’s mug on the draining rack, upside down, drying from earlier use, a strangely comforting sight. He has been here, just like I thought with the smell of overly strong Italian coffee but the coffee machine is switched off now. I automatically feel it to see how cold it has gone but it’s barely lukewarm, meaning he left hours ago.
That little inner drop of disappointment in my belly grabs me and I shake it away as being stupid. I shouldn’t care if he’s already left for the day and most likely not even in the club anymore. I have no reason to see him.
It does mean he must have slept here last night, came in at some point after ten because I was definitely awake at the stroke of ten. That means he did what I asked of him and stayed away for almost the full duration of my birthday. If he came after midnight then maybe even stayed away for its entirety.
The thought surprises me and I double glance around the room to be sure I am seeing this for how it is. It’s definitely his mug on the rack that was not there last night. He’s the only one who would even use it as the cleaner wouldn’t. He knows I don’t drink coffee, so the machine is only in use when he is up here.
It had to be him.
It feels weird knowing he’s been here twice while I slept and yet didn’t try to wake me. He carried me when he came up to bed and saw me passed out on the couch like sleeping beauty. He put me to bed, not that it’s the first time but it’s definitely the only time it hasn’t followed sex. He could have left me there, I wouldn’t have known any different.
I rub my face, trying to push it out of my head and fill the kettle for a cup of tea with one hand as I ruffle my messy nest of hair into some sort of neatness. My bracelet catches in it and I untangle it carefully, remembering its existence and stare at it for a long moment.
The small dangling dandelion charm catches my eye and ups the fluttering in my stomach and I ponder just exactly what possessed Alexi to buy me anything at all. Still warmed by the sight of it.
I can’t deny that his behaviour since I came back has been confusing and contradicting, but I’m not willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. There will be an angle, I am certain of it. I just don’t care what it is so don’t need to ever find out.
* * *
After I am showered and ready to roll, I wander down to the club to start my day, of sorts. It’s almost noon and I am feeling decidedly relaxed in my new navy dress and matching shoes; Conservative for today and low heels. I spoiled myself yesterday with my new lingerie and bought an outfit that had three quarter length sleeves, which showcased my precious new accessory. I know wearing it might make him think I really like it a lot, but I‘m not bothered. It’s sparkly and pretty and it goes with my dress in all its understated elegance.
The club is already bustling with the early staff that comes in to get the place ready every night. We don’t do clean up at closing, we do it from noon onwards when we restock and reset the whole place. That means my staff come in shifts—some from noon to mid-evening and then those who come in fresh and work till four a.m. It means our clientele get attentive and perky staff and surroundings that are constantly spotless. I worked out this new rota perfectly and it means I am no longer always required during the day to oversee mundane deliveries or watch the cleaning staff un-gunk the sex rooms.
I am only required when I want to be here and it takes so much pressure away from me. I get to swan around barking orders and overseeing that all runs smoothly. It’s a much better set up this time from the one set of shift workers who worked long hours. I’m rather proud of myself for getting it right and allowing myself to breathe a little easier.
I do a quick walk around to make sure people are carrying out their jobs and then lift the cat food and water from the kitchen down here to go feed Feral. I’m late today so he will be pacing the car park for his breakfast and waiting for me in a foul mood—Little grumpy fleabag that he is. I have a bit of a spring in my step, light and cheerful with a sunny demeanour for no apparent reason. It just feels like a good day and I wonder if it’s because I had a wonderful unbroken sleep.
I pass Jackson in the hallway and throw him a genuine warm smile and get one in return.
‘Morning, Miss Camilla.’ He beams my way as I pass and I just grin back, full of the vigour’s of life. Surprising, seeing as yesterday was my birthday.
‘Morning Jackson, I’m off to see furry psycho.’ I giggle at my own title for my little Ginger, heart brimming with genuine tenderness for the flea-bitten crazy.
I don’t get another step further when a familiar husky voice comes at me from behind, sending my inner body into an instant explosion of tingles and butterflies and my chest tightens as my heart rate ups a gear.