From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 224

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**TITLE: Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**

**Chapter 224**

There’s a rhythm to my body, a pulse that seems to resonate with the universe around me. If I’m reading it right, everything is about to align in ways I can hardly fathom. It’s almost too soon for me to engage in the exhausting dance of social niceties. I’ve got enough on my plate already—the ominous uncertainty that looms above me, the stacks of unfinished books gathering dust in my library, and the gnawing fear that love is nothing more than a temporary lease on a room where the rent is already overdue.

And then there’s Reese. If fate ever brings that infuriating man back into my life, I can’t guarantee that I won’t strangle him. Just the mere thought of his infuriating smirk is enough to send me spiraling into a fit of rage.

“Insufferable arrogant prick,” I mutter to my reflection in the mirror, the words spilling out like a long-held secret finally set free.

It’s as if the air around me lightens, the weight of my annoyance lifting with the utterance of those words. Naming my demon feels liberating, perhaps even diminutive in power. Maybe that’s exactly what he is—a chaotic, lewd devil lurking in the shadows of my life.

I close the pill bottle with a soft click, placing it back on the shelf amongst the other bottles—vitamins, aspirin, half-used serums that promise miraculous transformations. I splash cold water on my face, feeling the chill jolt me into a clearer state of mind.

As I step out of the bathroom, the dim light of the bedroom greets me, the thick curtains casting deep shadows across the room. Roman is still lost in the realm of dreams, his face buried in the pillow, one arm dangling precariously over the edge of the bed. The duvet barely covers him, leaving him exposed and vulnerable. In this moment, he looks so human, so unguarded. Each time I see him like this, I’m transported back to that first night we shared a bed as mere friends. He had respected the invisible boundary between us, as if he feared the slightest touch might ignite a firestorm.

A smile tugs at my lips before I can rein it in. I tiptoe across the room, kneeling beside him, the cool floor sending a shiver through my knees. With gentle hands, I lift the duvet, tucking it more securely around his body. He exhales softly, a low sound escaping his lips, and the corner of his mouth lifts just a fraction—perhaps a sign that I’m in his dreams.

Maybe I am.

I can’t resist the urge to press a soft kiss against his cheek. The faint rasp of his stubble brushes against my lips, a reminder of his warmth. “Sleep well,” I whisper, my voice barely above a breath. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

He doesn’t stir, lost in whatever dreamscape he’s wandering through. I linger for just a heartbeat longer, tracing the outline of his shoulder with my eyes, letting my thumb glide over his lips, marveling at the man who has stirred such a tempest of emotions within me in such a short span of time.

In a moment of boldness, I lean in and press my lips against his, a quick, stolen kiss. “I love you. Thank you,” I murmur, the words slipping out like a secret meant only for him.

Rising quietly, I tiptoe toward the door, closing it softly behind me. The hallway welcomes me with its familiar silence—the kind that feels heavier at night, as if the house itself is holding its breath, waiting for something to unfold.

Barefoot, I make my way to the kitchen, the clock ticking in the stillness, each tick echoing in the silence. I wince, glancing back at the closed door, half-expecting it to swing open. A small smile creeps across my face as I murmur to myself, “How did you manage to live here all alone, Roman? So many corners for a serial killer to hide in.”