Aaron's heart nearly stopped when Keeley emerged from the bathroom, a towel turbaned on her head and wearing his pajamas. They were far too large; the pants were cinched as tightly as possible, the legs rolled up at least six times, and the shirt hung nearly to her knees.

She still looked pale from her bout of vomiting, but he'd never seen anything so beautiful. She was here, in the home he'd bought with her in mind, wearing his clothes.

"Can I have some more water?" she asked, yawning and rubbing her eyes sleepily.

Aaron nodded, a lump forming in his throat. It wasn't fair that she looked so adorable, and he couldn't do anything about it. He had to proceed slowly, winning her trust like a scared animal.

He went downstairs and retrieved another water bottle. She struggled with the cap, clearly exhausted, so he opened it for her. She smiled gratefully—a smile he hadn't seen in a long time.

After she finished, he showed her to the bedroom closest to his, assuring her he was next door if she needed anything. She nodded, closing the door behind her. The sound of her settling into bed was agonizing.

He desperately wanted to be with her, but intruding would ruin everything. Patience. He'd waited this long; he could wait longer. This was a slow game, requiring consistent effort to win. Losing wasn't an option. Keeley was irreplaceable. She meant more to him than all the money in the world.

That said, he wasn't abandoning his position at the company; he still needed to punish his father and permanently protect Keeley. Security was tighter now—a hired driver and a housekeeper who visited only a few times a week. Instead of a full-time cook, he used a private caterer who delivered easily frozen and reheated gourmet meals.

This house was entirely his, free from prying eyes reporting to Alistair. Keeley was safe here. He should have done this sooner, avoiding the mistake of pushing her away to protect her from his enemies.

He held several advantages: a strong network, including the brilliant young hacker, Anomaly; ownership of more than half the shares not directly under his father's control; and Lacy's obliviousness to his love life, maintained by his purposeful distance from her and her family. He could keep his love safe; now, all that mattered was her acceptance. Tonight felt like a good start.

He knew he hadn't been a good husband, even before pushing Keeley away. He'd been consumed by work, neglecting her and holding unfair expectations. She'd sacrificed everything for him, and he hadn't acknowledged, appreciated, or compensated for that. Now was the time to make amends.

It seemed to be working; Keeley was less hostile after his tender care. She thanked him sincerely and smiled genuinely—more than during their entire high school relationship.

Exhausted from the day's emotional and physical exertion, Aaron went to bed early and slept better than he had in years, comforted by the sounds from the next room. Keeley had always been a restless sleeper. When they were married, she'd often end up sprawled across him, something that once annoyed him, but now he longed for.

Sweet, beautiful, genuine Keeley. He'd have her back soon. He fell asleep smiling.

His alarm blared. Downstairs, making his cappuccino, he nearly jumped out of his skin; Keeley sat at the breakfast bar. She looked up sheepishly, holding a spoonful of yogurt. "Good morning."

Civility at 6 AM? Promising.

"Good morning," he said warmly. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, your mattresses are amazing." She hesitated. "Um…I hate to ask, but…could I borrow a couple of things?"

"Like what?"

"A comb? And a button-down shirt?"

He understood the comb, but the shirt? Her face flushed under his gaze.

"I can probably get away with wearing the same pants two days in a row, but the whole outfit… my classmates will get the wrong idea."

Ah. She could have anything she wanted.

"I'll get those. You make the coffee. I recommend the Brazilian blend."

"Roger that."

That goofy tone was new in this life too. She was warming up!

He returned with a comb and a lilac shirt to find the coffee ready. He felt sentimental; it had been decades since he'd seen two mugs side-by-side on his counter.

"Thanks! The one on the left is yours," she said, attempting to tame her bedhead.

He lacked a hairbrush. He should have been better prepared.

"Oh! I think I have an extra hair tie in my bag," Keeley mused.

The familiar gesture settled deep in his heart. Despite her fear and resentment, she hadn't changed fundamentally. She was still his Keeley. He could win her back.

They sipped coffee in companionable silence until Keeley left for the bathroom. Her shirt choice explained itself. She'd rolled the sleeves to her shoulders, buttoned the top, and knotted the bottom, looking ready for a rodeo. It was unconventional, but as alluring as the pajamas.

"Well, look at the DIY queen," he said, impressed.

Keeley scrunched her face. "How do you even know what DIY is?"

"The internet."

"I thought you said you didn't trust the internet," she said dryly.

"Only some things. So, when can you help with the cat thing?" he asked, masking his eagerness.

"I'm free Saturday. Think you can wait that long, O Impatient One?"

If only she knew his true patience.

"That works."

"Cool. Now drop me off at school; I don't know the subway routes from here," she demanded.

"Your wish is my command."

She looked at him like he was crazy. Maybe he was. He was just happy to see her friendly again. Love could make people weird.

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