Chapter 19
The first morning in Boston felt… calmer than it should have.
Maybe it was the sunlight—pale and diffused, spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the suite like it belonged there more than we did. Or maybe it was the quiet: that soft, expensive silence hotels always had, the kind that made every moment feel deliberate.
I slipped out of the bedroom early, careful not to make noises that could wake William as I took a shower and got ready. The suite was cool under my feet, all marble and muted gold fixtures. I found the little kitchenette and made myself a cup of tea, keeping everything as quiet as possible.
For a moment, it felt like a strange kind of normal, not work trip normal, but something else. Something I didn't have a name for.
I was reviewing the day's notes on my tablet when I heard the soft click of the bedroom door behind me.
He walked out.
