Brent

The sun intrudes on my morning bliss. I roll over, trying to avoid the intrusion. The bedsheet moves lower, past my thighs.

I reach out to the other side of the bed, expecting Vanessa to be there.

She's not.

I groan.

If she doesn't return within the hour, then I know there's no morning sex. She has a way of getting preoccupied with things that prohibit her from returning to bed.

I rub my face, then frown.

Something is wrong--really ...