Page 56 of The Wrong Name on Valentine's

“I’m here.”

We stay like that for a long time, listening to the house settle around us.

Later, as we turn off the lights and head upstairs, the darkness feels different. It’s not the suffocating black of that night a year ago, it’s soft.

We lie in bed, limbs tangled, the duvet heavy and warm.

I wait until her breathing evens out, until she drifts in that space between waking and sleep.

I lean in close, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“Goodnight, Margot,” I whisper.

She shifts, a sleepy smile touching her lips.

“Goodnight, Ross.”

THE END!