When Her Death Couldn't Break Him (Cecilia and Nathaniel) novel Chapter 2057

Catching her reaction, Zachary leaned in until the warmth of his breath stirred a lock of her hair.

"Really?" he murmured, the single word carrying both teasing mischief and quiet reassurance.

His brow arched with playful concern. "Then why is your face so red?"

Startled, Vivian sprang to her feet and turned her back before the darkness could betray the bloom spreading over her skin.

"It's probably too warm in here," she insisted, voice a notch too quick. "The heat's cranked up—I'll lower it."

She padded over to the thermostat, fingers fumbling with the dial.

Zachary trailed after her, gentle concern dusting his tone. "Easy now—take it slow, there's no rush."

For reasons she could not name, Vivian's heart drummed hard and erratic against her ribs.

"Mm, I'm not in a hurry," she shot back, obstinacy trying—and failing—to mask her fluster.

Zachary saw straight through the pretense, responding with nothing more than a quiet, knowing smile.

Feeling his gaze, Vivian blushed hotter still. She set the temperature lower, turned, and declared, "All right—I'm exhausted. Let's sleep."

They shared a room now, but the fragile truce involved separate beds placed an arm's length apart.

Vivian hurried to her bed, shrugged off her jacket, and burrowed beneath the quilt like a startled bird.

Seeing her retreat, Zachary chose not to press further. He settled onto the other mattress with practiced quiet.

Though night was young, sleep refused to come. Vivian's restless turning scraped softly against the darkness, each rustle magnified.

"Can't sleep?" Zachary's voice drifted across the shadowed space.

She hadn't expected him to be awake as well. After a pause, she answered, "Yeah, kind of."

"I could keep you company," he offered. "People say the middle months are easiest. Later on, it gets harder to sleep."

At that, Vivian released a muted sigh. "Then what am I supposed to do?"

"Just bear with it," he said softly. "Once the baby's here, things will ease."

Vivian did not stir. She only sensed extra heat and a sudden lack of space, so she rolled toward the far side, curling into the narrow corner like a kitten seeking shade.

Dawn painted the curtains pink. Vivian opened her eyes—and found Zachary's face inches from her own, every freckle and eyelash magnified.

A jolt of numb shock surged through her limbs. Instinct took over; she shoved at his shoulders.

"Wake up! What are you doing in my bed?" Her brows knitted in outrage as she pushed him again, harder this time, every motion fueled by outrage and embarrassment.

Zachary's eyes fluttered open. Only then did he remember he had never returned to his own bed.

Rubbing his eyes, he feigned dazed confusion. "Huh? How did I end up here?"

"You're asking me?" Vivian snapped, then, more incredulous than angry, added, "Sleepwalking? Seriously?"

He raked a hand through his hair, wearing an expression of sheepish apology. "Sorry. I had issues with sleepwalking as a kid—guess it flared up again. If you don't believe me, ask Grandpa George."

"I mean it," he insisted, forcing a rueful smile. "You can ask Grandpa."