She spends four nights a week alone because of Damon's tour dates.
To keep her sanity she keeps a tight routine every night from Tuesday to Saturday. First she sets her coffee pot for six thirty in the morning because there's nothing better than waking up to the smell of coffee. Then she showers and gets into her comfiest pajamas (the ones Damon always makes fun of her for owning they have tiny purple owls on them) before getting into bed. She turns on the television and sets the sleep alarm on it for three hours before finding the most mindless program she can to fall asleep to.
It might seem a little obsessive, and to be honest it probably is, but it keeps her calm and relax. It's not that she's afraid to be alone, or to sleep alone even, because up until last year she'd lived alone for most of her adult life. Her fear isn't for herself. It's for him.
Because he puts his life and music on the stage every night for the people and it completely terrifies her that he could get into an accident while get to a performance or fall off the stage.
Some nights she can't sleep at all, tossing and turning until the blankets are twisted around her body like a cocoon. Apparently this is one of those nights.
It's Friday, the last night of the week that she has to sleep alone, and she's incredibly uncomfortable. She normally sleeps on her side, with a hand tucked under the pillow. When Damon is home he sleeps curled right up against her back, a hand usually underneath her shirt so he's touching her skin. Her heart aches when she realizes how much she needs that right now.
It's too quiet in the apartment, the sleep timer on the tv turned it off long ago and when she braves a look at the clock on her dresser it's barely two. She groans and tries lying on her other side, and then on her back and lastly on her stomach. Nothing works. Her cell phone is lying next to her on the nightstand and against her better judgment she punches in Damon's number he should be off stage now. He picks up on the third ring.
"Hey, mustang," he says cheerfully and her breathing immediately returns to normal just hearing his voice. "Can't sleep?"
She loves that he knows her well enough to not ask her if she's okay because of course she's not okay. She wouldn't be calling him at two in the morning if she was okay.
"No, I've been tossing and turning all night," she replies and her heart constricts a little when she hears him sigh. She knows that he hates being away from her as much (if not more) as she hates being away from him.
"I'll be home in less than twelve hours, Emily. You gotta get some sleep or you'll be exhausted tomorrow." The concern in his voice somehow makes her feel a million times better. Knowing that he's okay helps a lot too.
"You're right," she sighs. "I suppose I should try to get back to sleep."
"Call me in the morning when you wake up. I love you." She grins when he says it because he doesn't say it outright like that often. It's obvious that he knows she needs to hear it and she's glad he said it.
"I love you too," she says as she tucks herself back into bed. "Goodnight, Damon."
"Goodnight, Mustang ."
She ends the call and sets her cell back on her nightstand before turning on her side and tucking her hands underneath the pillow. He might not be here but at least she knows he's safe.
For the first time all week she sleeps like a baby.