Through the Lens (Click Duet #1) by Persephone Autumn

Author:Persephone Autumn
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781951477127
Publisher: Between Words Publishing LLC

Chapter Sixteen

Gavin

Present

The sun wakes me up just before seven, although sections of the house remain somewhat dark. Cora still sleeps and the house is quiet. Too quiet. As if no noise exists here. Seems odd to have no noise. No cars driving by. No people talking outside. Not even the chirp of birds in the early morning light.

I should leave. The last thing I need is for Cora to wake up, find me in her house and not remember why I am here in the first place. All it would do is freak her out and set us back. When it comes to Cora, I need all the forward momentum possible.

Rising from the couch, I stretch out my limbs then fold the blanket and drape it over the couch. I tiptoe through the house in search of the bathroom. After I relieve myself, I wash up and tiptoe back out.

Finding a piece of paper and pen on the desk nestled between the living and dining area, I write a quick note. As I set the pen back in its place, I bump the corner of her open laptop and the screen lights up.

Shit.

Snagging the note, I go to close the lid of the laptop and hide its bright light. But just as I begin to push the top down, I see a photo from one of our shoots this week. A photo she left open. A photo of me.

Confusion flickers in my veins. Rapid-fire questions pop up left and right. Was the photo left open because of work and editing? Or was it left open for other reasons?

A strange, woozy sensation floats in my chest at the possibility of her ogling a photo of me. Of her sitting in this very spot and gawking at my images. But I shut down the idea, not wanting my hopes to get the best of me.

I ignore the laptop and leave it open since it will return to sleep mode within minutes.

Walking over to her bedroom door, I stand in front of it and close my eyes. Do I go in and leave the note where I know she will find it? Or should I slip it under the door? This isn’t my house. And technically, Cora isn’t my girl.

My internal battle continues a minute before I choose the obvious path.

I slowly twist the knob and am thankful the door stays silent as it opens. Padding through the room darkened by black-out curtains, I walk toward her bed and set the note on top of her phone. A place I know she will find it.

Before turning to leave, I stare down at her a moment. Although I should leave now, the selfish part of me stays to observe Cora without distraction. To take in the woman who has held my heart captive most of my life.

And for a moment, I study the lines of her face as she sleeps. How her brows arch up, not in the middle but closer to a lateral point.

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