Mateo’s POV

I wake up in Mateo’s bed with his arm draped across my waist and immediately think: I’ve ruined everything.

Sunlight slants through unfamiliar blinds. The sheets smell like him, that scent I’ve been noticing for months, now all over my skin. His breathing is steady against my shoulder blade, still asleep, and I should feel content. Satisfied. Something other than this creeping dread.

Instead, I’m calculating. Six AM. If I leave now, I can shower at home, make it to the office by seven-thirty. Early enough that no one will notice I’m wearing yesterday’s suit.

Mateo’s arm tightens around me. “I can hear you thinking.”

“I have to...