My Favorite Time is in the Dark

"I just wanted a place to relax," Aiden says quietly.

"Well, I think it's beautiful."

He snorts, which breaks the moment. I'm going to turn away, but he takes my hand and leads me back past a little card table and a couple folding chairs in the corner I hadn't noticed coming in, around to the other side of the trunk where the ladder climbs out of the hole in the floor. Now, with my eyes adjusted, I can see what else is here. I swallow and take a breath.

The first side of this place was a living room and kitchen, a reading nook, and a view. It was gorgeous and fun. But this . . . this is the bedroom.

A king-single bed rests in a wooden frame box on the floor, a light colored duvet, wrinkled and plump, thrown over it. There's another shelf on the wall next to it, a rug on the floor, and a tiny bedside table—two drawers, and only about a foot wide.

I grin and look at Aiden, "Subtle."