I peeked into the dark living room. Patrick faced away from me. His breathing was even. His glasses were on the coffee table. Thank God. Quietly shutting the door, I got dressed, and then snuck back to the bathroom to blow dry my hair and put on make-up. I’d have to turn on the kitchen light to make tea, but hopefully he’d sleep through that, too. Weird to have to sneak around my own apartment? Yup. But I was a considerate host—which was more than I could say if he was bunking with Ros right now. Siblings, you know. My hope of leaving before Patrick was awake was dashed upon opening the door. He’d sat up on the sofa, looking as groggy as I’d been, and shirtless. The curls on his head were in wild disarray. He blinked at me standing in the bathroom doorway and fumbled for his glasses. “Hey,” I said. “Good morning.” God, his voice was even throatier from sleep. A thrill ran up my spine.
