“Can you wake me up when you’re ready to go? I want to swim a few laps before work,” I say when he sets the alarm on his phone.

Kohen nods. Snuggling in behind me, he drapes his arm over my stomach and tugs me close to him.

“I’m glad you’re finally getting back into the water, my love.”

I turn so that I’m facing him, lying my head on his chest. “Thanks.” I press my lips to his bare sculpted chest.

“Addie, time to get up,” someone coos into my ear.

I rub my eyes with the back of my palms before turning over and grunting my response. Nope, way too early.

“There’s a lane somewhere with your name on it,” Satan says again, ignoring that I do not want to get up.

“Huh?”

Kohen kisses my exposed neck. “Someone mentioned they wanted to do a few laps before work. Now time to get up or you won’t get a chance before you have to leave.”

Ah, that’s what he’s talking about. Painfully, I open my eyes. “Just so you know, you remind me of the devil in the morning.”

He bites my neck at my pulse point, making me yelp. He hauls me up so I’m sitting in bed. He’s dressed for work looking like the handsome doctor that he knows he is.

“How are you so excited to be up this early? No, wait, don’t answer that. Let me guess, you’ve always been a morning person?”

He gives me a quick peck on the lips. “Yes, now get up. I have to go or I’ll be late, and I know if you don’t, you’ll fall sleep the instant I leave.”

I want to say I won’t, but let’s be honest, there’s a real good possibility I will do just that. I force myself out of my warm bed that’s calling my name, begging me to stay in for another hour and sleep.

I plant my hands on my hips. “I’m pretty capable of functioning without a babysitter.”

He kisses my pouty lips. “Of course you are, my love.”

“Get to work so I can go workout.”

He gives me a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

Once he leaves, I check the time and groan when I see it’s almost four. As in, not even four in the morning yet. Sleep or swim, sleep or swim? I repeat the question over and over again. The need to swim is too powerful.

Ten minutes later, I stretch my cap onto my head and slide my goggles into place. As I do a few calf-raises, I stare at the dark blue tiles at the bottom of the pool. Positioning both feet at the edge, I bend down at the waist, take a deep breath, push off and dive into the water.

My muscles relax into the rhythm that they are so accustomed to, even after all these years. I glide through the water, breathing every seven strokes. Quickly I reach the other side of the pool. My body goes through the motions of a flip-turn. I don’t need to think to swim, never have. Swimming is to me as breathing is to everyone else. I’m meant to be in the water.

As I swim, I stop reflecting about what Kohen said last night, and the inevitable drama between Connor and Harper. I forget about Jax. I focus on my strokes, my breathing, and just let go.

Everything floats away. Everything is silent, it’s just me and the water, no place I’d rather be. I feel more myself than I have in years. I push myself, enjoying the burning of my legs, my arms heavier with each stroke. I push myself even further, I’m sprinting now. I lose count of how many laps I’ve done. When I finally can’t swim any longer, I stop. My arms feel like they’re going to fall off any moment, and my legs feel like they’re made of lead. I miss this sensation of being utterly spent after a workout, and enjoying every second of it.

After a long shower and an omelet, I hail down a taxi. I pull my phone out of my purse.

Me: You. Me. Wine. My place.

Tinkerbell: YES please! Want me to bring the wine?

I’m about to text her back that I already have some, but her reply beats mine. And then she texts again. And again.

Tinkerbell: Oh and what time? I can bring dinner?

Tinkerbell: Actually let’s cook together!

Me: BEST IDEA EVER

After work, I leave my door unlocked so Harper can walk in when she arrives. After changing out of my work clothes and into a pair of shorts and a tank, I wash my make-up off my face and put my hair into a messy bun. I head into the living room to put on girl music. I love listening to music while I cook. I reach the kitchen right when I hear the door opening.

“HERE!”

“In the kitchen!” I set two wine glasses on the counter.

She comes wearing a smirk grasping a wine bottle in each hand. That smirk I know all too well. “No! I will not be hungover at work tomorrow!”

She laughs while she plucks the corkscrew off the counter and opens a bottle.

“I’m serious!”

She hands me a glass. “Relax, we probably won’t even polish one off. The other one is for next time.”

I hold my glass up to toast. “To many more next times.”

“To many more everything.”

I already have everything laid out on the table for pesto pasta and a wedge salad. I’m making the pesto from scratch and she’s cooking everything else. I can tell that she’s making an effort for small talk, anything to keep the conversation away from the elephant in the room. I wait until we’re both two glasses in as I have a feeling we’ll both need it.

“So . . . about the other day . . .”

She finishes the last touches on our meals, hands me my plate and gulps a long drink of her wine.

“Just so you know, I thought you were going to wait until after dinner to bring that up. I should have known better, though. You don’t have the patience for that.” She sets her plate on the marble bar countertop.

I roll my eyes, but don’t disagree. She digs into her pasta and spins the barstool around so that she faces me. I follow her lead.

“Keep in mind it’s not that big of a deal. What did he tell you guys yesterday?”

She doesn’t deny anything as I retell her the colorful story Connor told yesterday. Once I’m finished, I sip the merlot and wait for her to share her side.

She looks anywhere but at me. And in this moment I see the scared woman Connor painted a picture of yesterday. She chews on her bottom lip, and her hands tremble. Her green eyes are vacant. The lively person that I’ve come to love is gone, replaced by a stranger. I squeeze her shoulder reassuringly.

“It’s okay, Tinkerbell, you don’t have to tell me.” I use my nickname in hopes to lighten her mood. It works, barely.

“No, it’s okay. It isn’t that big of a deal, honestly. Okay, so that night something happened that, putting it mildly, scared the shit out of me. I shouldn’t have been driving.”

Her hands shake violently, so I clutch them in mine. After a minute or two they stop.

“When I looked in my rearview mirror, I thought I saw someone from my past. I didn’t see Connor’s car, I saw somebody else’s. I panicked and reversed into him and fled.”

She plays with her food in an attempt to gather her thoughts. I have that habit too! This story is like a nightmare. I possess my own demons so I understand seeing something that isn’t really there. I have a gut feeling her demons are more real than mine.

“I sped away as fast as I could. I drove for miles without a destination until I was almost out gas. Surprise, surprise, Connor pulls up behind me. I almost maced him. Thankfully, right before I did, his face registered just in time.”

Man, if she maced Connor that would have made my year! Connor being maced by a chick is something nobody would ever think would happen, and a spectacle that everyone would want to see. Maybe I can persuade her to do it if the chance ever comes again?

Harper continues in a rush, getting her words out so quickly that they jumble together.

“My face was covered in dry tears and mascara. I felt horrible that I slammed into someone’s car and left. Who does that?”