Page 105 of Stupid Matchmaking Love

My heart breaks for Rhett. “So this is why you sleepwalk?”

“Yeah.” He huffs and a brief smile flickers. “You know what’s funny? If you ask me what I’m afraid of, it isn’t growing old, maybe losing my memory, fear of sharks. It’s much simpler than that.”

“What is it?”

“Sleep. I’m afraid of falling asleep, because in my dreams sometimes I’m right there, back in that hospital room, listening to those devices, inhaling the smell of hand sanitizer, seeing my sister’s bruised arm from blood draws, and I wake up and can’t breathe.”

My chest aches. Afraid of sleeping? That’s so . . . wrong. We have to sleep. It’s when our bodies heal, when our minds rest, when we problem-solve and solutions slip into our brains. Sleep is essential, and the fact that it’s been stolen from Rhett makes my muscles hurt.

“Have you ever talked to someone about this?”

He shakes his head. “I little bit. It helps—some.”

“That’s a lot to carry.”

He looks at me—really looks. “It is.”

“Well . . .” I smile tenderly. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I figured you deserve to know—now that we’re intent on winning this thing, that is.”

He smiles then, and I smile back. “Of all the choices I’ve recently made, this is the best one, I think.”

“Oh, just this one? The fact that we’re gonna win? Not anything else?”

He’s fishing for me to tell him I’ve finally chosen him, but I’m gonna let this play out a little longer. I tap a finger to my chin, pretending to think about it. “Yeah, I think this is the best one. Nothing else.”

“You realize you’re asking for a tickle fight when we get back to the hotel.”

“Am I? And who will be doing the tickling?”

“I think you know.”

I turn up my nose. “I may have abs of steel and no amount of tickling will affect me.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Yeah, we will.”

He glances down at our empty plates. “You ready to get out of here?”

“Only if there’s no tickling.”

“I’m not making any promises.”

I narrow my eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

Chapter 32

Cristina

Rhett doesn’t tickle me when we return to the resort. I think he’s either forgotten or doesn’t want me to drop Flame.

Either way, he says good night at my door, and I almost ask if he wants to come inside, but what we have feels like it’s made of glass, and I don’t want to shatter it.

The next few days pass quickly. Work keeps me busy, and for once I ease up on my schedule, feeling freer, and not nearly as worried about Glen as I was before.

Even though he still texts. Got yet another new phone, apparently, and I stopped trying to block him.