Chapter 78

Kayla

The first thing I felt when I woke up was warmth under my cheek.

The second thing I felt was a slow, steady heartbeat thudding just beneath my ear. A heartbeat that was not my own.

I shifted slightly, half-asleep, and the realization hit me like a ton of bricks—my head wasn’t resting against a pillow. It was resting on something firmer, something broader. And something breathing.

Nicholas.

My eyes fluttered open, squinting at the soft golden light filtering through the living room windows. The sun was barely up, casting just enough light to illuminate the sharp angles of Nicholas’s jawline as he slept beneath me, his head tilted back against the couch cushion. His arms were still wrapped around me, one draped lazily over my waist, the other tucked beneath my neck like he’d done it a thousand times before.

And to make things worse—or better, depending on how I wanted to look at it—our legs were tangled together, my thigh slotted between his like it belonged there, and my torso was flush against his. We were like two puzzle pieces, perfectly fitting together.

I froze, the only movement that of my pulse pounding a mile a minute beneath my skin.

I don’t know how long I laid there, staring up at him like some kind of idiot. But Nicholas didn’t move, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath my cheek. He looked so… peaceful. That was the only word for it.

I had never seen him like this before, so still and relaxed, without the usual storm lingering just behind his eyes. His jaw was unclenched, his mouth slightly parted in sleep.

Were his lips normally this full and soft? Were the lines around his mouth and between his eyebrows always smoothed out like this when his mind was lost in sleep and not weighed down by the waking world?

I almost didn’t want to move. I was worried that if I shifted too much, I might ruin this fragile moment that felt entirely too rare to risk losing. And maybe, deep down, a small part of me didn’t want to leave the warmth of his arms.

I wasn’t exactly sure what that said about me or my confused heart, but I decided not to think about it. Not right now, at least.

Instead, I let myself stay there for just a little while longer, my eyes slipping shut again as I listened to the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my ear. I told myself that I would get up in a minute.

Just one more minute.

Or maybe two.

Unfortunately, that minute never came. The sound of footsteps creaking across the floorboards shattered the temporary peace, and my eyes shot open just in time to see Marcus and Emma standing in the doorway.

Emma’s lips parted slightly in surprise. Marcus, for his part, looked like he was trying very hard not to smirk.

Before I could move, Nicholas began to stir beneath me, groaning faintly. His arm tightened around my waist for a brief second, keeping me from moving, before his eyes finally fluttered open.

It took him a moment to register what was happening. I felt it—the slow realization sinking in as his gaze shifted from Marcus to Emma and then finally to me, still clutched in his arms like he didn’t want to let me go.

To his credit, Nicholas didn’t jolt upright or push me away. But his arm did slide off of me as he slowly sat up, dragging his hand down his face. I quickly sat up and disentangled myself as well, suddenly feeling a self-conscious flush rise to my cheeks.

“Morning,” Emma said, a little too cheerfully for comfort. “Hope we’re not interrupting anything.”

“You’re interrupting my beauty sleep,” Nicholas muttered, his voice rough with sleep. But he didn’t look at me. I was almost glad that he didn’t, because if he had, my face might have turned an even more impossible shade of crimson.

Meanwhile, Emma’s eyes narrowed slightly as she took in the scene, and I could already see the gears turning in her head. I was going to get an earful for this later, wasn’t I?

Nicholas didn’t seem to notice—or if he did, he ignored it entirely. His focus shifted to Marcus, who had suddenly gone serious.

“We’ve got a problem,” Marcus said, fishing his phone out of his pocket. He swiped at the screen and held it up for Nicholas to see. “Some of the reporters didn’t leave last night. Apparently, a few of them somehow managed to sneak through the gates and… they took pictures through the window.”

I leaned closer, my eyes narrowing at the screen. Sure enough, there we were—clear as day, curled up together on the couch. The image was grainy but unmistakable.

“Oh, come on,” I groaned, sinking further into the couch cushions. “They’re taking pictures of us in our own home now? Seriously?”

Nicholas’s expression darkened as he quickly snatched the phone from Marcus, scrolling through the various articles that had already popped up.

“They’re spinning the story in all kinds of ways now,” Marcus continued. “The photos make it look like you’ve been lying about Noah this whole time. They’re saying you never really loved him.”

“Well, they’re technically not wrong,” Emma chimed in, earning a glare from me.

Marcus shook his head. “Some others are also claiming that you’re a cheater who’s manipulating both Nicholas and Noah. Fueled in part, of course, by that interview from the other day.”

Nicholas didn’t say anything. His thumb hovered over the screen for a long moment before he finally handed the phone back to Marcus and pushed himself off the couch.

“I’ll handle it,” he said simply, rolling his shoulders like he was getting ready for a fight. “It’s illegal to photograph someone through their window. I’ll have our lawyers send out a cease and desist.”

“Good luck with that,” Emma muttered with a wry huff. “Those photos are already plastered across every tabloid from here to the next pack over. You can try to have them taken down, but the damage has already been done.”

Nicholas, shaking his head, just headed for the front door, muttering something under his breath that I didn’t quite catch. Marcus followed, and the sounds of their voices faded into the distance.

Once the two men were gone, the room fell into silence. For about three seconds.

Then Emma flopped down onto the couch beside me, tucking her legs beneath her and shooting me a look that could only be described as downright impish.

“So,” she began, tilting her head with a devilish glint in her eye, “do you wanna explain how you went from denying feelings for Nicholas to cuddling him on the couch in less than twenty-four hours?”

I groaned, dragging a pillow into my lap and burying my face in it.

“There’s nothing to explain,” I mumbled through the fabric, but I could feel Emma’s smirk boring into the back of my head without even having to look at her.

“Uh-huh. Sure.” She nudged my leg with her knee. “You keep telling yourself that, Kayla. But I know the truth.”

I didn’t bother responding, because there was no point.

Instead, I stayed right where I was—my flushed face buried in the pillow—wishing that I could just sink into the couch and disappear entirely.

That would make everything so much easier, wouldn’t it?