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And I got the sinking sensation that there might not be a way to put myself back in the exact same shape as before.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

[ “SOMETIMES SOMEONE COMES around to make you want to do more than just survive.”

— Undead Confessional - Episode 62]

Silas

I wasn’t sure the last time I’d woken up with a woman.

I did know that it never felt the way it did right then, with Maggie’s warm body draped over me, her silky hair spilling across my shoulder, her breath on my skin, her heartbeat slow and steady against my chest.

I couldn’t find the right words. Suddenly, all the passages I’d read of others describing this sensation fell flat. The lyrical similes and metaphors. The waxing poetic. None of it quite felt right.

It seemed like for the first time in my long life that I was no longer drifting, no longer letting life and time carry me with it.

I felt rooted.

So present in the moment that I could see, hear, smell, taste, and feel it.

Everything was sharper.

Time slowed.

And as my fingers sifted through Maggie’s hair as she sighed in her sleep, I never wanted it to speed up again.

But, of course, the world stopped for no one. Not even new lovers trying to understand the buzzing, expanding feeling in their chests.

A door slammed across the hall, making Maggie jolt hard in my arms.

I couldn’t seem to stop myself from leaning down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“You’re at the hotel,” I reminded her. “Someone slammed a door.”

“Oh.” She melted back into me, exhaling hard. “Rude.”

“In their defense, it’s almost ten.”

“Ten?”

It was the worst thing I could have said.

Maggie shot up, eyes round, face twisted up in horror.

“I’m supposed to be at the venue already!”

“You only have to set up the table,” I reminded her. How long could that take? Sure, Maggie was a workaholic who liked things just right—or as ‘right’ as they could be at the chaos-filled radio station—but not even she needed over an hour to fiddle with the merchandise.

“And check out to make sure everything is set up for your… show or whatever they’re calling it.”

Exhibition was what the paperwork called it. It felt unnecessarily formal for a public phone call between myself and the mysterious Madison.

I’d been, if not excited, then intrigued about it when I’d first signed the contract.

Now, though, I wanted to forgo the event entirely, grab Maggie, and pull her back into bed for the next eight or so hours.

Even then, I wasn’t sure it would feel like enough.