The bed was empty when I opened my eyes, rested and blissful. Calmnessdidn’t last long. One of the worst things about my PTSD was jumping to conclusions. The empty bed triggered unwanted, irrational thoughts that Thomas changed his mind about us; that he must have left early to avoid confrontation; that he dumped me the way I dumped him.
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, rationalising his absence. Maybe he was taking a shower? A glance toward the en-suite bathroom proved me wrong. The house was quiet, as if it were empty. I jumped out of bed, scuttled out of the room and went down the stairs.
I hadn’t noticed it last night, but the painting I gave him hung in the hallway, opposite the main entrance, making it the first thing anyone who passed the threshold saw. My heart swelled, and I relaxed when the sound of the coffee machine working in the kitchen reached my ears.
Thomas stood behind the large island with a marble top counter. The kitchen was light and airy, packed with the latest technologies and a top-notch modern design, but nothing made an impression as much as the south-facing windows. That’s only if you didn’t count the owner.
“I’ve been up for thirteen minutes,” Thomas said before he even turned around to look at me. “You can’t sleep without me?”
There was no annoyance in his voice, but no amusement either. He looked confused, and I squirmed under his gaze.
“It’ll pass; I promise. It’s just that…” I shook my head not finding the right words to explain. “I’ll ask James for different sleeping pills.”
Thomas rose an eyebrow, a knowing look on his face.
“It’s just that…what?”
I padded closer and hopped onto the island, picking at my nails when he rested his hands on both sides of my thighs.
“It’s not Adrian who has kept me up at night lately. It’s you. Now that I have you back, I’ll be fine. I just need a bit of time to…”
“Believe I’m not going anywhere?” he asked moving his hands to cup my bum. “Not long ago, I was the insecure one, wondering how long it would take before you realise that you’re worth more than a guy like me.”
I looked into his eyes. “The tables have turned.”
“You don’t have to worry. I’m not going anywhere. You’reitfor me, baby doll. It’s either you or a bitter-sweet life as a bachelor.” He pressed his lips to mine, the kiss delicate and affectionate. “I should’ve started with this,” he muttered. “Good morning.”
I laced my hands on his neck, brushing my nose against his.
“Good morning. Can I please get something off my chest without you interrupting me?”
He turned to the coffee machine, handed me a cup and rested his back against the cupboards, offering his undivided attention.
“I’m sorry,” I began, and held my finger up seeing that he wanted to protest. “I’m sorry I left. I could’ve stayed, but if Adrian would hurt himself because of that, there would be no fixing me. There would be nothing for you to love. I didn’t expect you to wait, just to understand. I had to go because it was the less destructive way forme.”
Thomas watched me, but his eyes seemed unseeing. I knew what he was thinking about. He worried that Adrian would forever hold some power over me and that I would keep going back.
“I understood until I saw your bruised face. There was no understanding or rationalising after that. He doesn’t deserve your help.”
I dropped my gaze back to my hands. Thomas was right, and the rational part of me knew it, but the naïve Nadia had a romanticised vision of the truth.
“I tried to help him. I did everything I could, but nothing works. At some point, I reached my limit. I probably wouldn’t see his issues for what they are if I hadn’t met you along the way, so thank you. I’m just sorry I dragged you into this. I tried to keep you at a distance, but you weren’t giving up, and I was falling for you so fast…”
“I’m glad I didn’t let you push me away, but I hate that it took you so long to realise Adrian is not your responsibility.” He came closer and cupped my face. “Is that it? You got everything off your chest?”
I bobbed my head, and Thomas rediscovered my lips.
“Good. That’s the last conversation we have about this and the last time you apologised for leaving.” He pecked my nose. “Back to your sleeping problems. I fly over to Madrid every other week. I assume you’ll want to start classes in January, so you won’t be able to come with me, and I don’t want you to not sleep for days at a time.”
I smiled, eyeing the contours of his face, the strong jawline, cheekbones as if hewed in stone and muscular arms clearly visible under the thin fabric of his black, long sleeved t-shirt.
“What are you smiling at?” he asked.
“You. You’re quite a something, you know that?”
“So you said.”
“Don’t worry about my insomnia. I’ll be fine.”