For a second I was disoriented, the noise unfamiliar, the softness of the mattress unusual. Then I remembered where I was—I was with Brick, I was in my own particular brand of heaven.I stretched my arm across the bed, searching for the big, hot body I’d snuggled against all night.But there was nothing there, just acres of cool, crisp sheet.My eyes flew open and immediately shut again as the harsh daylight streaming through a crack in the curtains pierced my retinas.“Brick?” I called through a dry throat.I carefully peeled open my eyes and scooted to the edge of the bed. I looked around. He wasn’t in the room. Perhaps he was taking a shower. The vacuum cleaner switched off. I strained my ears for the sound of running water.Silence.I glanced at where his bag had been strewn messily open.Gone.I swallowed a gurgle of bile.He’d left.It couldn’t be true.It was.He’d left without waking me. My heart began to thud so hard I was sure it would explode. How could he leave? How could he just get up and go and leave me sleeping?
