(Tiffany's POV)
I turned onto my side. Zachary was facing away from me, already somewhere distant. I reached out and put my hand on his back, just lightly, the way I used to when we were first married and he'd come home late and I'd want him to know I was still awake.
He didn't respond. He shifted slightly, and my hand slipped off, and he pulled the blanket up and said, without turning over, "I've got an early flight tomorrow. Go to sleep."
I pulled my hand back.
I closed my eyes. I told myself it was nothing. Seventeen years of marriage and two people didn't always need to talk. He was tired. So was I.
I drifted off sometime after midnight.
At three in the morning, I woke up.
Zachary was murmuring something. Low and half-formed, the kind of sounds that meant he was deep in a dream.
