There was something deeply satisfying about waking up naturally rather than to an alarm, stretching in bed while mentally cataloguing the events of the past few days. Four dates, four completely different experiences, four women who had each shown me sides of themselves that I was still processing. The contentment I felt was warm and genuine, the kind of satisfaction that came from knowing I had managed to navigate a potentially explosive social situation without anyone ending up hurt or feeling neglected.
I padded into the kitchen in my pajamas, planning to make breakfast before anyone else woke up. It seemed like a small gesture of appreciation after they had all been so understanding about the dating rotation, though I suspected Camille would probably sleep until noon given her sleep-deprived state from the day before.
