Hard Out Here

Sienna

I blink my eyes open and wait for the room to come into focus. It's silent, a quiet I'm not used to, and bright with morning light.

And the instant I remember where I am, my heart rate picks up.

I roll onto my back, glance at the empty space beside me. I tug the comforter up, appreciating its weight. I wouldn't use one so thick at home. It's too hot in the summer, but it's cool in the penthouse. Giovanni's got better air-conditioning.

The pillow still has its indent from where he slept, and I remember the feeling of his arms around me, his body like a solid wall at my back.

I sit up to take in the room. The bathroom door is ajar, the light out. He's not here. I know. Not in the bedroom and not in the apartment.

I get out of the bed. I'm still wearing his shirt and I catch the hint of aftershave clinging to it.

Barefoot, I pad across the hardwood floor and open the door to step into the hallway, putting a hand to my hair to tamp it down. It seems to grow to three times its size