“Ryan,” I say again, now fully facing him, “what are you doing in my room?”
He shrugs. “The door was unlocked.”
“And?”
“I wanted to be with my wife.” He’s touching my hair now, fingers combing through the mass, causing the hair to fall around my face. His touch is familiar, too familiar. I try to shake off the feeling of déjà vu, but it won't stop. “I don’t want us to fight anymore, Jules. All this is just a little misunderstanding.”
I stare at him, my mind still trying to catch up with the fact that he’s here, in my bed, in the middle of the night. “It’s midnight, Ryan. What are you saying exactly? Shouldn’t you be with your girlfriend?”
Ryan doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he leans in and presses his lips to mine, soft at first. For a brief second, I lose myself in it—the taste
