Page 2 of Perfect Convergence

For a moment, I just stare at her. The graceful curve of her neck has my hands itching to trace the exposed skin. She’s in a T-shirt and leggings with her hair tied up messily, but she still looks as beautiful as she did when I laid eyes on her at the masquerade ball the other night.

Our silence is broken by her phone going off.

“Shoot,” Wren mutters, grabbing it. “That’s my alarm. I have to get ready for work.”

“But you look like you’re in pain.”

She gives me a smile that reminds me of the way a mother would look at a toddler who just asked an ignorant question. “Period cramps aren’t really a valid excuse for taking off work. If you can walk, then you just have to deal. And I,” she says with a grunt as she gets to her feet, wincing, “can walk.”

“That’s ridiculous. You can barely stand,” I protest, watching as she clutches the heating pad to her until the cord pulls tight. She sighs, seeming to remember that she can’t take it with her, before dropping it to the ground. Then she walks to the kitchen, bent over.

“There’s coffee.” She nods to the pot on the counter.

“Can you take pain meds?”

“Ran out.” Opening the fridge, she stares inside for a minute before closing it again. When she turns around to face me, it really looks like the mere sight of food made her sick. “I’ll be fine. The first day or two suck, but after that I can almost forget I’m on my period. To be honest, I’m lucky. Mine usually doesn’t even last a whole week.”

She hobbles down the hallway before disappearing into her bedroom. With a sigh, I rinse my fingers off and pour myself a mug—one of the few dishes her ex didn’t break—of black coffee and take a few sips.

A couple minutes later, Wren comes back into the kitchen dressed in black skinny jeans and a black T-shirt. She’s put on a bit of makeup, but it doesn’t do much to hide the tiredness and pain on her face.

“I have to get going.” She steps up to me, cupping my cheek with her hand before pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “Thank you for bringing me back last night.”

“I’m driving you to work.”

“It’s only a couple of blocks. I usually walk.”

“It’s fucking freezing outside, Wren. And it snowed so much last night. The sidewalks won’t be shoveled yet.”

She bites her lip, considering my words. I’m about to tell her that if she decides to walk, I’ll have no choice but to carry her, because she shouldn’t even have to go into work when she’s in this much pain. But she nods, giving me a small smile and another kiss.

“Thank you.”

I down the rest of my coffee. As she ties on her boots, I grab my coat from where she tore it off me last night and then flip the heating pad off. By the time my own boots are on, she’s ready—even though she looks like she needs to go back to bed.

She holds my hand on the elevator ride down, her head leaning against my shoulder. Elliot and Oliver never touch me this much. They know I need my personal space. But I can’t find it in me to push Wren away.

Once we’re in my truck, it only takes a minute for me to navigate the barely plowed streets. I pull up in front of the coffee shop, and Wren lets out a quiet sigh.

“Be careful of ice,” I say, expecting her to turn and hop out of the truck. But instead, she turns to me, taking one of my hands in hers. They’re freezing from the steering wheel, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

Kissing my fingertips, she says, “I will. You sure it’s safe to drive back to your house? The roads aren’t great.”

I have plenty of experience driving in the snow, so I nod. “Want me to text you when I get back?” It’s something Elliot and I started doing when Oliver was at a particularly low point with his anxiety.

“That would be nice.”

Leaning closer to her, I brush my lips against her cheek before kissing her. “You got it. Now get inside before you freeze.”

With a smile that makes it feel much less cold out, she slides out of the truck just as Ava walks up to the front door. She pulls out a key, and they shuffle into the coffee shop.

Before I drive away, it doesn’t go unnoticed by me that Ava is giving Wren a knowing look, and that Wren is staring bashfully at the floor. I chuckle. And then I’m off, knowing I need to make a couple of stops before I get home.

CHAPTER TWO

WREN

“SO?” AVA SAYS, shooting me a look as we walk into the back and dump our stuff in the break room. “Tell me everything! How was your Valentine’s Day night of debauchery? Oh, and who the hell dropped you off? I couldn’t see through the windows.”

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