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A small sound escaped her lips, something between a sigh and a murmur. I held perfectly still, barely breathing, terrified of waking her up and equally terrified of what it meant that I wanted her to stay exactly where she was.

This was bad. This was very, very bad.

I was Jeremy Blackwell. I didn’t get tangled up over women. I didn’t spend hours replaying intimate moments in my head. I didn’t feel my pulse spike just because someone fell asleep on me. I flitted from woman to woman like a hummingbird going from flower to flower. That was who I was. That was who I’d always been.

The worst part was, I’d been the one to suggest we pretend it never happened. And she’d agreed. She’d looked relieved, even. So why did I feel like I’d made a terrible mistake?

At least we were heading home. We would have some distance to let things settle. It was almost Thanksgiving. All my next gigs were lined up for the beginning of the following year. It would give us a few weeks apart. Time to reset. By January, this would all feel like a distant memory. A weird blip in an otherwise uncomplicated working relationship.

Lucy slept for another two hours. When she finally stirred, she immediately pulled away from my shoulder.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, straightening up. “I didn’t mean to use you as a pillow again.”

“It’s fine. You looked like you needed it.”

She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to smooth down the side that had been pressed against me. “How long was I out?”

“Couple hours.”

“God.” She rubbed her eyes. “I can’t believe I slept that long. I had so much work to do.”

“The work will still be there when we land.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

If she wanted to pretend she hadn’t just spent two hours cuddled against me, I could play along. We talked a little about the schedule for January. Normal work stuff. Safe topics that didn’t require us to acknowledge anything complicated.

By the time we touched down in LA, it felt like Alaska had happened in another lifetime.

The warm California sun hit me the moment I stepped out of the airport. I’d forgotten what it felt like to not be freezing. The air smelled like ocean and exhaust and home. I took a deep breath and felt some of the tension I’d been carrying start to ease.

“This is more like it,” Lucy said beside me, tilting her face up toward the sun. “I never thought I’d be so happy to see smog.”

I laughed. “Alaska wasn’t that bad.”

The crew had scattered, everyone heading off to their own destinations. Sebastian and Bernadette were flying on to New York. It was just Lucy and me, standing at the curb, waiting for our respective rides.

“So, I’ll send you the updated schedule by end of week. And I’ll follow up with the watch brand about their proposal.”

“Sounds good.”

Her phone chimed. “That’s my ride.”

She grabbed her bags and headed toward the car. I watched her go, fighting the urge to call out. I wanted to do anything other than let her walk away. But I didn’t. Because we’d agreed. She got in the car without looking back. My ride pulled up less than a minute later. I tossed my suitcase in the back and slid into the seat. The AC was on, which made me laugh after being in the freezing cold not even eight hours ago.

Traffic on the PCH was brutal, as usual.

The driver dropped me off and I was finally home. I’d be home for a while. Most people would be thrilled with that idea after traveling for what felt like two years.

I dropped my bags in the entryway and headed straight for the kitchen. I needed a drink. Something strong enough to take the edge off whatever I was feeling.

I poured myself a whiskey and carried it out to the deck. I inhaled the scent of the ocean and listened to the waves rolling in. I settled in on one of the loungers. I kicked off my shoes and leaned back. The house was an oasis of calm in my very busy life. Four bedrooms, three baths, a kitchen I barely used. But I loved the view. I loved falling asleep to the sound of the ocean.

Tonight, though, the view felt different. Lonelier. I took a long drink and let the whiskey burn its way down my throat.

Alaska already felt like something that had happened in a dream. I finished my whiskey and poured another. I decided I might just sleep on the patio. Wouldn’t be the first time.

I sipped whiskey and watched the sunset while I tried to convince myself that a few weeks apart would fix everything.