I inch closer, until I can rest my head against the door. Somehow, knowing he’s on the other side is making me ache even more. Did I wake him? Is his hair all mussed? Is he wearing pajamas? How long has he been there, listening to me? “I . . . I don’t know.” “You sound frustrated. Let me help.” I nearly snap that I am frustrated, but manage to rein it in. “That’s not a good idea.” “It’s past midnight.” His voice is even softer than before. “Let me in, Mia.”
