Chapter 33

Because of the rainy weather, daylight came later than usual. Ethan rubbed his aching temple, still groggy from a hangover. The bed beside him was cold, but her scent lingered faintly in the air. Did Emma really come back last night? He remembered her scent so clearly, the warmth of her body, the way she responded—tentative but intimate. He could still feel her trembling in pleasure, losing control. Did she cry? Did he? Ethan sighed and instinctively reached for his phone. He hesitated for a long time, staring at the number he hadn’t dialed yet, when suddenly, the sharp chime of the doorbell snapped him back into focus. When he opened the door, there stood Clara, soaked and dripping wet. “You?” Ethan frowned. “I need to talk to you, Ethan. It’s really important...” *** “How are you feeling today?” Michael pushed open the hospital room door. Emma was leaning against the pillows, knitting a pair of tiny socks. “Better. Breathing’s easier after the oxygen,” she replied, setting her knitti