The elevator doors opened to a silent, carpeted hallway. Room 56 was at the end. Our room. My grip on Leo’s hand was tight, a tether to the reality I was about to detonate.
I slid the key card. The light blinked green, and the lock clicked open-a sound that seemed to echo in the hollowness of my chest. We stepped inside.
I didn’t turn on the main lights. Just the soft lamp by the bed, casting the room in warm, intimate shadows. The city glittered beyond the window, a silent audience to our private play.
Leo turned to me, his back to the door, his face a canvas of confusion and desire. “Okay, seriously. What is going on? You’re being...”
“I’m being what?” I interrupted, stepping out of my heels. The cool floor grounded me.
“You’re being the woman I married,” he said, wonder in his voic
