The morning sun cut through the thin curtains and landed squarely on Greta's face. She groaned, lifting a hand to block the brightness, and rolled toward the cool side of the bed. Her head throbbed faintly, remnants of the wine from last night, and for a moment she didn't want to move.
Something shifted across the room. She blinked against the light, squinting. Liam sat by the window, phone in his hand, jacket folded over the chair beside him. He looked maddeningly composed, like he hadn't spent half the night hauling her up the stairs while she cried into his shoulder.
Greta's throat felt dry. "Are you seriously just sitting there watching me sleep?"
Liam's head shot up. "What? No. I was… checking emails."
She smirked faintly, pushing herself upright and dragging her hair into some semblance of order. "Mm. Sure. Emails. At seven in the morning. You must be terribly important."
"Some of us actually are," he said, pocketing the phone.
