“So, tell me something real.”
Ray glances up from unfolding his napkin. “Real?”
“Something people wouldn’t expect about you.”
Silence stretches for a second. Then surprisingly, he answers honestly. “I hate silence.”
The admission catches all of us off guard.
Ray stares down at the table briefly before continuing. “Most people think I like being alone because I’m quiet.” He gives a small shrug. “Truth is, silence always scared me.”
Something in my chest aches painfully at the casualness of the statement.
Lucy’s expression softens too. “And now?” she asks quietly.
Ray’s eyes flick towards me.
“Now, I don’t sleep well unless I know everyone’s home.”
The words wrap around me completely unexpectedly.
RAY
I somehow made it through dinner with a surprising amount of respect for Lucy. And judging by the fact she only insulted me three times by the end of the night, I think the feeling might be mutual.
By the time we get home, everyone disappears to bed almost immediately.
Everyone except me.
Because now that I know Wynter struggles to sleep, I can’t seem to settle either. So, instead, I sit alone in the darkened living room, one lamp left off in the corner while the city glows faintly beyond the windows.Waiting.
And sure enough, a few hours later, I hear soft footsteps padding down the hallway.
I glance towards the clock. Two a.m. A quiet curse almost leaves me.
Wynter appears moments later, moving carefully so she doesn’t wake anyone. She’s wearing an oversized hoodie. Leggings and her hair’s tied messily on top of her head.
She heads towards the door and slips her feet into her trainers.
I reach over and switch on the lamp.
Wynter spins around so fast she almost loses her balance, one hand flying to her chest. “Jesus Christ,” she breathes.
I push to my feet slowly. “It’s two in the morning in London.”
She groans immediately, rubbing her forehead. “I know, Ray. But honestly, I’ll be fine.”
I ignore that completely. Instead, I grab her coat from the back of the chair and walk towards her. Her brows furrow slightly as I hold it open for her. For a second, she just stares at me. Then quietly, she slips her arms into it.
“I knew your head would be too busy to sleep after today,” I tell her, adjusting the hood where it’s twisted at the back. “So, I waited to see if you’d try sneaking out.”
“I’m not sneaking out,” she argues weakly.
“At two in the morning?”
“Yes.” I arch a brow. She rolls her eyes. “Okay, maybe a little.”
I fight back a smile. “From now on,” I say, grabbing my own jacket from the counter, “if you suddenly decide walking around London alone in the middle of the night sounds like a good idea, you come and get me first.”