Clara went quiet this time, her gaze fixed on the table. She sat there for what felt like ages before finally asking, "How's Aiden?"

She already knew the answer-she'd just called the hospital herself. She was only asking to change the subject.

Dylan was turning his fork and knife in his hands before he finally set them down, his whole posture heavy, as if he was carrying something he couldn't say out loud.

Then it hit her: he'd just asked her something, hadn't he? And she hadn't answered.

With Dylan, not answering was as good as saying no. He never seemed to expect good things, especially when it came to feelings.

Clara took a breath. "Dylan."

He didn't say anything, just kept his eyes lowered, looking lost.

She tried again, "Are you full?"

"Yeah."

At least he answered that.

Clara reached out, running her hand over his shirt-half the buttons were already undone. "If you're done eating, let's keep going. Just skip work today."

she was taking the lead. He hesitated

be great so she just cupped his face

lot like Z in one way: if things were good in bed,

by then Clara was completely spent. She slumped against the sofa, practically asleep, while Dylan-shirt barely

she didn't even have the strength. She just let herself lean into his touch, mumbling a little and enjoying being taken

scooped her up to the bathroom for a shower, making

bed, she finally caved. "I really can't do this anymore.

tucked her in, brushed a kiss against her lips. "I'm

hadn't planned to keep going

out a long breath, eyes half-shut, watching him move around the room. Someone knocked at the door, but she couldn't even be bothered to wonder

for a minute and came back with an armful of his own

snapped awake, watching as he calmly started hanging his clothes

she wasn't going to Palm Bay. Looked like he was planning to move

a strange

back to her, Dylan kept organizing his stuff—and even straightened up her clothes while he was

arms around his waist from behind, her words barely more

just like

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