At No Time || Bruno Mars

80

"Shit, Bruno! Do you know what this could do?" Trystan's crazed expression worried Peter. He had not seen her in the kind of state Raina had witnessed that frightened her muted, and he was unsure if he would be able to calm her down alone.

"Trys, relax. It's all speculation."

"That Kimioko is behind this?" She turned her laptop to face him as if he had not been the one to show her the photo.

It was of her an Angelique, mid-laughter as they were heading down to the boutique a few days before. The headline above the picture read: Has Songwriter/Producer Trystan Wildes Finally Come Out of Hiding? with a short article below that described she and Peter's past working relationship. Peter Hernandez, who is a renown C.O.O. of the mega-popular record label SoulWork, has recently been in talks with joining the Bennett-Price Company. Could Wildes be joining in with the new crew to create some more magic? Click the link below to listen to some of her award-winning hits.

"How the fuck did this happen?" Trystan muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. Peter had not at all imagined their Sunday morning transforming from a great beginning to Trystan being outed.

Peter had awakened earlier than he would have liked to for a weekend, too used to his working schedule. Trystan was on the opposite side of the bed with her back turned, and he was glad she had simply moved in her sleep and not because she was upset with him. Not that there should have been any reason for her to be—the past few days had been all but annoyingly fleeting, not long enough for him to enjoy her presence.

He moved across the expanse of the bed to drape his arm across her waist, kissing clothed shoulder gently and watched as she stirred awake.

"What time is it?" she asked groggily, her since-abandoned habit of sleeping in late wishing to be revived.

"Nine o'clock."

"Seriously?" Trystan peeked an eye open. The sun had long since dawned, but she felt it only just had. She groaned, wanting to pull a pillow over her face and continue hibernating. "Thanks, Bruno. Now that I'm up, I won't be able to go back to sleep." She only sounded slightly annoyed, and he could tell she did not mind too much when she interlaced her fingers with his and pulled his arm tighter around her.

"Well, now that you're up . . ." Peter suggested, letting his hand travel down her nightshirt before it was slowly interrupted by her, "Unh-uh. Not right now. The next thing you know we both won't be up until one o'clock in the afternoon and Dew'll keep asking why we sleep in so long."

"And plus," she added, turning over a bit so she could see him. "I'm worn out."

They both laughed. She was right—they had treated the previous days as making up for lost time. Any time they could, they were connected, perspiration clinging to their skin and grunts of pleasure replaced with stifled breaths so not to awaken their daughter. It had gotten to a point where Trystan had to beg for him to stop, not really wanting him to, but not being able to take much else. He had left her alone, but made it clear once she recovered, they would be right back at it.

"Well, since my dream was rudely interrupted, I'll go make some breakfast." Trystan removed Peter's arm from around her and slid off the bed, her feet sinking into the carpet as she made her way to the bathroom.

"Cool; wake me back up when it's done." Peter straightened onto his back, and Trystan turned around with a hand on her hip.

"I don't know why you're going back to sleep; you're gonna help me make it."

Peter eyed her as if she were crazy. "Trys, you know I can't cook."

"So I guess it's about time I teach you," she smirked, crossing her arms. In response to his incredulity, she snorted, "You're not about to have my baby eating take out every time I'm not here to cook."