Luca never came back to bed that night.
I laid there, staring at the ceiling, until the glow of the early morning began to fill the bedroom. When I went into the kitchen to make my tea, I was shocked to see Luca sitting at the counter with a coffee cup to his lips.
I never heard him come back inside.
"Is everything okay?" I asked.
Luca's eyebrows knit together.
"Yes?" He answered, even though it sounded like more of a question.
"You left in the middle of the night," I told him, feeling the need to explain my concern.
"Oh, I went for a run," he said casually, taking another sip of coffee.
"You left the door open..
"Did I?" Luca asked.
"I may not have shut it well."
"You left your clothes strewn all over the floor," I reminded him.
"I guess I'm not used to living with someone who sees my mess. You didn't have to clean up behind me."
Luca's attention returned to his coffee cup.
"Are you sure everything's okay?" I asked him.
He looked up from his mug and smiled slightly.
"I'm fine."
Despi
