Jack hadn't meant to fall asleep on the couch. He remembered the last thing he did: pouring himself another glass of wine after their third round of Uno. Selena had already retreated to the main bedroom, or maybe it was her room now, and he hadn't wanted to bother her. The couch was comfortable, the wine warm in his blood, and the silence oddly soothing. So he stayed. And eventually, the night disappeared into the thick quiet of early morning.
But the penthouse bell rang loud and sudden, shattering the calm like a glass dropped on concrete.
Jack jolted awake, his limbs heavy with sleep, his neck sore from the awkward angle he'd fallen into. He sat up with a grunt, rubbing his hand across his face and blinking at the sliver of morning light slicing through the drawn curtains.
Another chime rang through the air. Persistent and so impatient.
