The whir of the ceiling fan had Trent’s full attention as it went round and round above his head. Bree was snuggled up against him, her cheek pressed to his chest, her strawberry-blonde hair fanning out over his arm where it rested tucked beneath his pillow. She’d fallen asleep almost immediately, once he’d finished making love to her. But here he lie, staring at the ceiling, nearly two hours after she’d moaned his name and let him know he’d reached his goal.
Something was off, and he knew it. Exactly what it was, he couldn’t say, but he had a feeling in his gut that the hardships they’d gone through weren’t over yet, that whatever had brought them the bad luck of having her first show and his award ceremony scheduled on the same night wasn’t done messing up their lives.
