So, instead, I set my dress on the bathroom counter and make my way toward the kitchen.

As I pad through the living room, though, I find a blanket and pillow on the couch. And my brows furrow. Did Gleb spend the night out here after I fell asleep?

Another drawer closes, and I turn my attention back toward the kitchen. Rounding the high-top counter, I find Gleb standing there, already dressed as if he’s ready for the day.

“Morning,” I say brightly, trying to mask my confusion.

He barely glances up as he continues to search for whatever it is he needs to find. “Morning,” he answers flatly, his voice distant and distracted.

And though I desperately don’t want to read into it, I can’t help the seed of doubt that settles in my stomach. “Everything alright?” I ask, propping my hip against the counter as I cross my arms.

“Yeah, fine,” he confirms in that same detached tone. He seems to find what he was looking for then, snatching it into his palm and slipping it into his pocket. “I’m late, so I need to take off. You and Gabby are welcome to use the apartment as you wish, but stay here until we can sort out your next plan of action. Call me if you need anything. And don’t answer the door for anyone. Understand? I’ll be back this evening.”

“Okay,” I agree.

It stings a ridiculous amount when he brushes past me without so much as a kiss. Turning, I follow him to the front door like a lost puppy, wishing he would just look at me.

But when he does, his eyes are unreadable—a wall of steely conviction. “Try to remember to take it easy—rest and recuperate, like the doctor said.”

“Okay,” I repeat, my voice growing less confident by the second.

Then Gleb’s out the door, shutting it quietly behind him, leaving me feeling abandoned and confused.

My eyes turn back toward the couch and the rumpled bedding there. I know it won’t do me any good, but I can’t help myself. Heading over to the discarded blanket, I pick it up and bring it to my nose, inhaling Gleb’s familiar masculine scent.

Yes, he definitely must have slept out here last night.

A wave of hopelessness washes through me. It would seem that, try as I might to rekindle the connection we had, Gleb was still ready to practically run from me by this morning.

Passion, we might have. A physical connection more powerful than logic or reason.

But the stuff it takes to have a real relationship?

I’m not so sure I know how to fix that.

I don’t even know where to start.

Sinking onto the couch, I bury my face in the blanket—and try desperately not to cry.

Because I think I’ve lost Gleb for good this time.

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