Chapter 8

• Emerson
• The morning light filtered through the thin curtains of Raven’s room, casting a soft glow over her sleeping form. I stood in the doorway, watching her for a moment, a cup of coffee in one hand. She looked peaceful, but something about her demeanor had been unsettling me since the wedding. Her sudden distance, her refusal to even kiss me in front of the guests—it gnawed at me. I figured a little gesture of affection might break the ice.
• I moved toward her, placing the coffee on the nightstand. “Good morning, beautiful,” I whispered as I leaned down to brush my lips against her cheek in what I hoped was a tender, disarming kiss.