In the night I get up to pee, and when I come back, Miles is splayed out in the middle of the bed, arm outstretched like he’d been reaching for me in his sleep. Seeing him there, lit by the moon, sends a crushing tenderness through me. I tiptoe through the chilly room, climb into bed as gracefully as I can, but he still wakes enough to sleepily drape an arm around my waist and haul me into the warm nook of his body. “You were gone,” he murmurs. “Now I’m back,” I whisper. With a low, drowsy hum, he kisses my shoulder, and drifts back to sleep.
