We’re having a sleepover.

I can’t remember the last time I had a real sleepover, but this is exactly what it feels like. Although, instead of spending the night with a bunch of girls, I’m spending the night with my fiancé’s brother and my bodyguard. I guess we make an odd trio, but tonight it feels right.

Sam and I hover in the kitchen watching Jamie make macaroni and cheese. And not a box mix. He’s making it from scratch – like, he’s making his own cheese sauce. The guy has balls. He moves carefully and methodically as he puts a pot of water on the stove to boil.

“Jeez, Jamie,” Sam says, when Jamie pours milk into a measuring cup. He’s making a béchamel cheese sauce with a mix of hand-grated cheeses. “You don’t cut corners, do you?”

Jamie shrugs. “I got tired of eating fast food, so I learned to cook by watching videos on YouTube. I guess Ellie spoiled me for home cooking.”

“Ellie spoils us all,” I say, remembering how the housekeeper-slash-cook at Shane’s estate in Kenilworth used to send my favorite breakfast up to my bedroom every morning when I was still too weak to come down to the dining room.

If I didn’t know Jamie was blind, I’d never believe it watching him in the kitchen. He measures, pours, and stirs without missing a beat. The three of us snack on potato chips and French onion dip and drink root beer from chilled bottles while the food cooks.

“I’ve been trying to get Molly to let me cook dinner for her,” Jamie says, “but she always comes up with some excuse why she can’t come over.”

“She’s very pretty,” I say, picturing the brunette who lives in the apartment next door.

“Is she?” Jamie says dismissively. “I know the sound of her voice, and I know what she smells like, but I have no idea what she looks like.”

“That’s TMI dude,” Sam says.

Jamie chuckles. “She smells like a mix of vanilla – her hand lotion – and peppermint – her shampoo. Tea tree oil, I think it is. It smells good.”

“I’m glad you clarified that,” Sam says.

I smack Sam on his arm. “She’s my height, about five-eight,” I say. “She has shoulder-length, wavy brown hair and brown eyes. She has a nice figure. I’d say she’s probably in her early thirties.”

Jamie nods as he takes in her description. “I always wondered what she looks like, but that’s not really something you ask someone you’ve just met, you know.”

Sam hops up onto the kitchen counter. “Are you crushing on her?” he says before popping a chip into his mouth.

Jamie shrugs. “She’s nice. I like her. She’s an artist – she has a small art gallery and studio on Division Street where she paints abstracts, mostly for corporate clients.” He shrugs. “I’ve asked her out to lunch, I’ve asked her to let me cooker her dinner, but so far, no luck. She’s got me solidly in the friend zone, and I don’t know how to change that. She was divorced about a year ago, and she says she’s not interested in dating anyone right now.”

“Keep trying, Jamie,” Beth says. “If you like her, keep trying. You’re a real catch. She has to realize that. Just be patient and give her time. If she was recently divorced, she may not be ready for anything new.”

The timer on Jamie’s phone goes off, indicating our mac and cheese is ready. Jamie takes the baking dish out of the oven and serves up some cheesy goodness for the three of us, along with some veggies he steamed on the stove and fresh bottles of root beer. The three of us sit at the small dining table to eat.

Jamie and Sam compete to see who can tell the funniest stories from their time in the military. They have a lot in common, both having served in special ops, and both having been seriously injured.

For the first time in a long time, my appetite comes back, and I’m so busy laughing at their stories that I’ve forgotten my problems for a while and cleaned my plate before I even realize it.

“How about ice cream and a movie?” Jamie says, when we’ve all finished our food.

Sam grabs his plate and silverware and carries them to the kitchen. “Sounds good to me.”

Sam and I rinse the dirty dishes and put them in the dishwasher, while Jamie gets out bowls and spoons for mint chocolate chip ice cream. We settle on the latest Marvel Avengers movie, and the three of us sit on the sofa, with me in the middle, and watch our movie and eat ice cream.

During the movie, Sam discreetly deals with two text messages. When my curiosity gets the best of me and I ask who’s texting him, he points at the TV and shushes me. Jamie gets a phone call and goes into the other room to take it. Surprisingly, my phone remains silent all evening long. I know it’s not fair to be disappointed, but I thought Shane might at least text me this evening, if not call. But he doesn’t. In fact, no one does, which is odd. I usually get messages from Lia and Erin and Gabrielle every evening. But my phone is silent tonight.

By the time the movie’s over, I can barely keep my eyes open. My day’s catching up with me, and I’m about to crash hard.

“Sam, you can sleep on the living room sofa,” Jamie says. “It’s actually quite comfortable for sleeping, and it’s long enough to fit you. Beth, you can have my bed, and I’ll sleep on the sofa in my office.”

Jamie lays spare bedding and a pillow on the sofa for Sam. Then he changes the bedding on his bed for me, and when I offer to help, he politely declines.

“That was Shane who called me earlier,” he says as he’s making up the bed for me. “I just thought you’d want to know. He called primarily to check on you, to make sure you’d eaten something this evening, but also to tell me they’ve had no luck yet with the images. They’ve ruled out any type of photo editing, although that’s not really helpful, is it?”

I nod, appreciating the fact that Jamie’s filling me in. And then, feeling like an idiot, I realize he can’t see me nodding. He does everything so effortlessly, it’s easy to forget he’s blind.

“Thanks for letting me know,” I say. Still, I wish I could have heard Shane’s voice. I guess I shouldn’t complain, though, as I’m the one who essentially sent him away. Now, facing the prospect of sleeping alone in a strange bed, I rather regret my earlier decision. I’d give anything to have Shane here now.

“Don’t worry,” Jamie says, pulling me into his arms for a much-needed hug. “Everything will work out fine. Shane won’t rest until he gets to the bottom of this. And I mean that literally. They’re working through the night on it. I don’t think he’ll sleep until they find what they’re looking for.”

After he finishes making up the bed for me, Jamie gives me a brand-new toothbrush from his linen closet and one of his T-shirts for me to sleep in. I head to the bathroom to get ready for bed as best I can and take my pill.

As I change out of my clothes, I feel a pang in my chest, remembering that Shane said he wouldn’t go home without me – that he’d sleep in his office apartment instead of sleeping in our bed at home alone. I’m swamped with guilt. Now that a few hours have passed, and Jamie and Sam succeeded in getting my mind off those images for a while, I feel like I’m the one who betrayed our relationship. Shane wouldn’t cheat on me, he just wouldn’t. In the cold, rational light of day, well figuratively speaking anyway, I know that.

I head back to the bedroom, where Jamie is waiting for me.

“If you need anything in the night, just call me,” he says. “I’m a light sleeper. I’ll hear you.”

“Thank you, Jamie, for everything.”

“You’re very welcome. Now, get some sleep. It’s late, and you’ve had a difficult day.”

Jamie leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. The room is dark except for the lamp on the nightstand, which casts a soft, warm nightlight on the bed. I climb into bed and check my phone for messages – there’s nothing.

I need to hear Shane’s voice. I need to know he doesn’t resent me for not going home with him tonight. I’m fighting the urge to call him when my phone vibrates with an incoming call. I look at the screen, almost afraid to see who it is. If it’s Luciana, I’ll lose it.

But it’s not Luciana, thank God.

It’s Shane.

My heart starts thundering in my chest as I accept the call. “Shane?”

“Hi, sweetheart. I asked Jamie to let me know when you were going to bed so I could check-in with you, make sure you’re all right, and say goodnight.”

Hearing the sound of his voice sends a wave of warmth through me. There’s absolutely no resentment in his tone, no reproach. He sounds… normal, albeit a little tired.

I burst into tears. “I’m so sorry,” I cry, trying to muffle my sobs. “I miss you. I shouldn’t have – ”

“Hey,” he says, his voice gentle. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You had every right to be upset by what you saw.”

“I know you didn’t cheat on me,” I tell him, hoping it’s not too little, too late. “I know you didn’t.”

There’s a moment of silence on the phone, accompanied by a deep exhalation of breath. Then he says, “Thank you, sweetheart. But I’m still going to prove it to you. I don’t ever want this incident hanging over our heads. Someday, when we’re old and gray,” he says, chuckling, “and you get mad at me for leaving the toilet lid up, I don’t want you throwing Luciana in my face.”

I laugh, too, although it doesn’t last long. I feel too much guilt. “I’m sorry, Shane.”

“There’s no need to apologize, sweetheart. I mean that. Now, are you in bed?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Go to sleep and dream good dreams, okay? The guys in the lab are calling for me. I’d better go see what they want. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? As soon as I can get away, I’ll come to you.”

“Okay. You sleep well too.”

“I will. I love you, honey.”

“I love you.” I should have said that to him earlier this evening, and I didn’t. “I’m sorry, Shane.”

“Hey, shh, no more apologizing.” Then, as he’s speaking to someone else, I hear him call, “I’m coming, Scott.” Then he’s back to me. “Go to sleep now. I need to know you’re getting a good night’s sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

We hang up and I turn onto my side, curling up alone in the big bed. I wrap my arms around a spare pillow and wish it was Shane. It’s been a while since I’ve slept alone, and I find there’s way too much room in the bed.

Leaving the nightlight on, I close my tired eyes and count the minutes until I will see Shane again.