Page 74 of Winter Glam in Amsterdam

"Fuck," I curse under my breath in a whisper when I remember that Zoey has taken over the guest room.

I completely forgot about her.

When I open the front door, she pops her head out of her room curiously, staring at me with wide eyes, surprise written all over her face when she sees Summer in my arms.

But I quickly shake my head, and that’s enough for her to stay quiet.

She might not know what happened, but still, she understands without any words. Wordlessly, she runs ahead with quiet steps, opening the door to my room so I can carry her inside.

"What are you going to do?" she asks in a whisper after I gently lay Summer on the bed and tuck her in, in a sense of deja-vu removing her shoes before leaving her to her much-needed sleep.

"Nothing," I tell Zoey, slowly walking backwards, out of the room. "Aside from putting her suitcase with her bags into my room and sleeping on the couch."

"Should I leave? You can have the guest room," she offers, but I shake my head.

“It’s alright. I like my couch.”

"You know what? You were right, I need to get back to university anyway," she adds, shooting me a wink.

"Tomorrow," I tell her and press a kiss to the side of her head. "I mean it, though. You're always welcome here."

"I know." She grins and walks off while I take a blanket and pillow from my cupboard in the hallway and carry them downstairs to my couch.

Then I walk back outside to close the car doors and get her bags. I didn’t dare close them before, since I didn’t want to wake her up. She looked like she needed that sleep.

Once I’ve put them inside my room, right next to the door, I trudge back downstairs and sink down on the couch.

I've fallen asleep on it once or twice before, usually during a movie marathon. What time is it even? A glance at my phone reveals that it’s later than I thought. Now that I have it in my hand, I also make sure to send Luca a quick message.

Because I learn from my mistakes.

God, this turned out to be an eventful day.

And even though my back is already complaining as I lay down, the sound of the TV lulls me to sleep pretty soon.

I wake up to the scent of coffee and the sound of someone rummaging around in my kitchen.

Confused, I try to piece together the evening when everything comes rushing back to me.

Summer at the airport. Her sobbing in my car. How broken she looked in my way-too-big bed once I tucked her in.

Slowly, I lift my torso off the couch to peek over the backrest.

My eyes widen when I see her moving in my kitchen like she owns the place. I sink back into the couch pillows and take a deep breath.

This is my chance.

Probably my only shot to make this right.

Yet I have no idea what I’m going to say.

“Would you like a coffee?” I stay still, still trying to decide how to go about this. “I mean, you can pretend to sleep a while longer if you'd like," she says softly, and my heart starts to race.

And when I peek over the backrest again, I see a little smirk playing at her lips as she throws my words from our first morning together right back at me.

"Yes. Coffee. Please," I stammer and get up, stretching my arms over my head before I trudge over to my kitchen island and lean my elbows on it, watching as she pours me a mug.

"I’m sorry. It was a bit late to drive you all the way home."

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