Page 70 of By His Play

I can’t ruin that. I would never forgive myself.

But that doesn’t stop the tingles from racing up my arm every time I touch her, or halt my mind from running away with itself and trying to imagine what it would have been like to close those final few inches between us yesterday.

It was the dress, a little voice says.

It was a good thing she didn’t buy it. I wouldn’t have gotten through tomorrow if she wore that.

It might have looked killer on her, but it would have been a disaster.

She shifts on my lap, and my nostrils flare when she slides her head back a little and places her hand on my thigh, squeezing gently.

She says nothing, but I feel her gratitude through her touch. That and a few other things that I shouldn’t.

This is wrong.

So incredibly wrong.

She’s hurting. Suffering. Grieving. And here I am, thinking of things that I’m sure are the furthest from her mind right now—especially involving me.

Forcing my attention back to the movie, I try to forget the lingering memories.

Eventually, Effie’s breathing does even out and her body relaxes into the couch as she drifts off.

All I can hope is that it provides her some escape from the pain and thoughts of what tomorrow will bring.

Once I’m confident that she’s in a deep sleep, I shift beneath her and lift her into my arms as smoothly as I can.

I carry her to her room and lay her down in bed before returning to the living room to tidy up and turn everything off.

I have every intention of slipping down the hallway to my own room. The last thing I need while my head is cluttered with thoughts of what-ifs is to lie beside her.

But instead of walking to my room, my legs force me to stop when I get to her doorway.

She’s lying on her side with one hand tucked under her cheek. The other arm is stretched out like she’s searching for something.

It only takes two seconds to discover what—or who—she’s looking for.

“Kieran,” she whispers, wiggling her fingers as if I’ll suddenly appear beside her.

My chest tightens as if someone has wrapped a rubber band around it.

She shifts into the middle of the bed, still searching, and I cave.

Her eyes never open. I don’t think she’s awake, and if anything, that makes it worse.

Even in her slumber, she needs me.

With my heart slamming against my ribs, I drag my hoodie over my head and then step up to the bed.

She’s asleep; what’s the worst that can happen?

No sooner has my body hit the mattress than she wraps herself around me like a koala.

Her head rests on my shoulder, her arm wraps around my waist, and her leg hitches up on my thigh.

It’s incredible.

Incredibly terrifying.

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