Chapter 23
Chapter twenty-three
Greyson
Graveyard visiting wasn’t on my bingo card for a romantic-summer-evening date to help me win my wife back. But despite the tears, Paisley was calmer, more subdued after seeing the idiot’s final resting place. She hadn’t attended the funeral after all.
The world was pretty dead at four in the morning, and it was a seven-hour drive back to Serenity Springs, plus a time zone change. I could make it, but Paisley was sagging against the window, and I had no doubt her head was probably throbbing.
I pulled off the main highway and into the parking lot of a small hotel, blinking Vacancy. It wasn’t a bad place as hotel chains go—not luxury, but enough to give us a few hours of sleep without too much concern.
“What are we doing?” Paisley slurred from the passenger seat.
I had to smile. I would never get tired of how this adorable woman made my heart skip a beat, even when half asleep. “Grabbing a room for the night. We could use a bit of shut-eye.”
She blinked at me owlishly behind her frames, then nodded and climbed out of the truck. I grabbed our overnight bags and followed her into the lobby. She swayed beside me at the front desk as the teller handed me a key card.
We padded silently down the zebra-striped sepia carpeting to room 112. Paisley yawned, waiting while the card took three swipes to unlock the door.
The room was clean and reminiscent of the ’70s, with its ten shades of brown and harvest-yellow décor. There was only a queen bed and a small couch, which didn’t appear to be a pullout.
“You can take the bed. I’ll take the couch,” I said, setting our bags down on the low coffee table.
Paisley eyed me lazily from head to toe, her gaze heating my blood. It would have been a coy look if she hadn’t been so sleepy. And if she still thought of you like that. “Good luck with that. It was built for Munchkinland-sized humans, not a Greek Adonis,” she muttered.
Something in me swelled with the praise, though I doubt she meant it as a compliment. “I’ve slept on worse.”
Her pert nose scrunched in disgust. “Don’t joke about that. There’s a bed, we’re adults, and . . . You know what, I’m too tired to argue with you. Do what you want. Just don’t complain about your bad back tomorrow, old man.” She snatched up a toiletries bag and stumbled into the bathroom.
Only once the door clicked did I allow myself to chuckle softly.
This snarky version of Paisley was more what I was used to.
I changed into pajama pants and tugged on a T-shirt.
No sense scandalizing her. Although, it might work to my advantage someday, but not tonight.
She was right. We were adults who could share a bed. We were married.
After Paisley finished in the washroom, I took my turn, brushing my teeth and slapping cold water on my face. She was already curled under the scratchy sheets, nose scrunched like she was trying not to think about how rarely hotel coverlets were washed. I slipped under the covers on my side.
“Grey?” Paisley’s voice was raw and small.
“Yeah, love?”
“Thanks for tonight. Well, this morning now. Most guys wouldn’t have done that.”
She was right. But I was determined to win her heart again, and if this was what it took, I’d do it again tomorrow. “Anytime.” I tucked my arm under my head and clicked off the lamp, plunging us into darkness, except for the light switch at the door glowing as a soft night-light.
I waited until Paisley’s breathing settled into soft, even snuffles before I let the ebbing tide of exhaustion roll over me, taking me under.
Hotels should invest in better curtains if they actually wanted people to sleep for longer than three hours in the summer.
The flimsy gauze window covering didn’t keep out the morning light, tugging me from the world of oblivion.
Although, I should be grateful I could hear the rain pattering against the window, which meant it was more overcast than sunshiny; otherwise I’d have been up even earlier.
I glanced at the glaring red numbers of the bedside radio clock—6:52—and took stock of my body. Everything was warm and heavy. Weird. I blinked and realized why.
I was still in nearly the same position I’d fallen asleep in on my side of the queen bed. But Paisley? She had blown past the center line and was velcroed to my side, head resting on my shoulder, arm draped over my torso and legs tangled with mine. Not unlike how we used to wake up.
I shut my eyes again, trying to keep my breathing and pulse even as I enjoyed the moment.
Savoured it. Relished the feel of her in my arms. Like this was normal for us .
. . It had been until ten days ago. I shifted my head on the pillow, catching the scent of her hair.
Gosh, I loved this woman. The strawberry shampoo she used.
The way she snuffled in her sleep and burrowed under enough blankets to become a suffocation hazard in the winter.
The way she constantly sought out warmth because she was perpetually cold.
The way her pert nose scrunched in thought.
Now, with her in my arms, hand over my staccatoing heart, this upside-down summer felt normal for an instant. Like the world tilted back into rightness. I used to crave adventure—it was partly why I stayed away from home for so long—now I just wanted normalcy.
Holding her like this was a silver lining. She would shift back to roommate status when she woke up and we headed back home. But for a moment . . . a minute . .
I had a glimmer of my wife back. And I held on a little tighter.