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Gray didn't consider himself a light sleeper, but he awoke that night with a jolt, blinking his tired eyes. It hadn't been any sounds or sensations that had caused him to rise from his slumber, but rather, the absence of it.
The lack of warmth against him as her soft body curled against his. The soft smell of the rosewater shampoo she used that would soothe his senses as her hair tumbled across his pillow.
He looked at the empty space beside him. The blankets hadn't been disturbed at all. His heart sank.
She's still up?
Again?
He let out a sigh as his wandering eyes caught the soft glow under the bedroom door. Pulling himself out of bed, he stood up with a grunt; a full day's work at the smithy had left him tired and sore. He padded across the room and gently opened the door.
Craving privacy in their married life, the couple had opted for building a small apartment on a section of the top floor of the library. It had been a compromise, as Gray's in-laws were insistent that he move into the family house. After sharing a room for so many years himself, he was eager to have a space solely for him and his wife. It was a small space, but it was theirs, and he was more than grateful for it.
Gray lingered in the doorway, his eyes falling onto his wife's workspace. She had set up a cozy writing nook among the shelves of books. A small lamp sat on the table with a stack of notebooks and reference books. Her pencil holder had been knocked to the side, spilling writing utensils on the desk's surface. Another stack of reference books sat on the floor by her armchair, and her shoes were clumsily deposited beside them. She was much like her father – absorbed in her work and forgetting about the world around her, often losing track of time. The straight-laced upbringing from her mother had instilled in her clean up her messes when she came out of her writing trances, but it appeared as though she had fallen asleep before that could happen.
She looked comfortably seated, her feet tucked underneath her. Her thick, black hair was down and tumbled over her shoulders in heavy waves. A pencil was tucked behind one ear and another was dangling from her hand. Also precariously sitting were the glasses hanging on the tip of her nose. Despite her open notebook and reference guide in her hands, her eyes were closed, her eyelashes dark against her pale cheeks. Her mouth hung open as she breathed deeply.
He stood for a moment in adoration.
She's absolutely gorgeous.
Gray's heart throbbed as he looked at his love, and he felt a complicated mix of relief and frustration that she had fallen asleep. There was something admirable in her diligence, but she had been pushing herself far too hard lately.
“Mare.” His voice was gentle.
He was met with a soft snore in response.
A smile curled at his lips as he stepped closer to her. He removed the pencil from behind her ear.
“Mare,” he repeated, leaning in and cupping her cheek with his hand.
The young woman's eyes flicked open with a soft gasp, her other pencil tumbling to the ground as she caught her glasses just in time.
“Oh, c'mon, now, I'm not that scary,” he teased, the doting tone never leaving his voice.
She looked around her, catching her bearings and stretching with a yawn. “But dozing off with an upcoming deadline is. Goodness, how long was I out?” Mary's voice, while soft, came out gravelly with fatigue.
Gray shrugged. “Long enough to know that you need to come to bed.”
She frowned, looking down at the notebook in her lap. “But I didn't get as far as I wanted to,” she slurred, cutting herself off with another heavy yawn.
Gray picked the books off of her lap and set them on her desk, grateful that she didn't seem to mind. “Sleep time.”
She looked up at him groggily, adjusting her glasses. “But I've got another chapter due to the editor soon...”
He didn't miss a beat. “And you'll write better with a fresh mind. C'mon, let's get some sleep.”
Her attention was focused back on the books and a frown formed on her lips. “This book is a big opportunity for me... for both of us. I just... I want to do a good job.”
“And I know you will. You're awesome, Mare. There's a reason why your first book did so well.” Gray shyly leaned forward and brushed his lips against her forehead. “It's like you're always tellin' me – you gotta have a little more faith in yourself. You've got a gift.”
She looked down at her lap for a moment, and when she looked back up at him, he was delighted to see the color rise in her cheeks. “I-I don't know if I'd be so bold as to describe myself that way...”
Gray gave her a playful peck on the nose. “Well, I would. Your stories are the best and I'm constantly wonderin' why someone so talented picked a loser like me. Come to bed.” It was his turn to blush; he felt his cheeks blaze. “I, uh... I sleep better with you beside me.” He averted his eyes, well aware that she was watching him keenly. He extended his hand to her. “You'll get a heck of a lot better rest in bed than on that armchair.”
Electricity ran down his spine as her dainty hand was placed in his scarred and calloused one; they fit together so perfectly, and he marveled in it every time. He pulled her up from the chair and she bumped into him, landing in his arms.
She nuzzled him, her long hair tickling his bare skin. “I do sleep better when I'm at your side.” Her voice was muffled.
Gray gave Mary a warm embrace and kissed the top of her head.
He could feel her voice vibrating against his chest. “And how many times do I have to tell you that you're not a loser?”
Gray tilted her chin upward and looked into her wide, sincere eyes. Her soft pink lips were set into a cute pout, and he could smell her rose shampoo. “As many times as I have to tell you that you deserve a good night's sleep.”
After sharing a playful kiss, he scooped her up into his arms and couldn't help but chuckle when she let out a surprised squeak. He was more grateful than ever that they had opted for a more private living space.
“Well, then perhaps we should make our way to the bedroom,” she murmured with a coy smirk.
He playfully tutted as he bumped the light switch on the lamp and pushed the door open with his foot, carrying her through the threshold. “For someone into creative writin', you sure like to steal the words outta my mouth.”