“Damn,” I pant and watch my stomach rise and fall under her head. She swallows and wipes her mouth with the back of her wrist, then dries her hands on her leggings and fixes her hair. She’s phenomenal.

“I love you.”

“I know you do,” she smirks with a slap to my thigh before heading to the kitchen to pour two cups of coffee. She brings them over, puts one on the coffee table next to me, and takes a seat with hers on the facing sofa.

“I can’t believe how often that can happen. What time is it anyway?”

“Ten, which means you had a good ten or eleven hours to recharge from when you arrived home last night. So, you gonna lie there all day with your dick hanging out of your jeans, or you gonna tuck that bad boy away so we can talk?”

“I’d rather return the favor and begin the day with you. Who wants to step backward into hell?” I mumble, hole up, and zip. “Let me kiss you. I need to give you some sort of satisfaction this morning.”

“Take a sip of coffee first, it’ll wash away the morning breath.”

“You just sucked me off. Your mouth was on my cock, but you can’t kiss me?”

“That’s different. Ask any woman, she’ll tell you that morning breath is far worse than...”

“Alright.” I raise my hand to cut her off and do as I’m told. It’s clear who’ll be in charge today. She’s in one of those moods. After a few sips of coffee I’m ready, and I pucker my lips playfully toward her.

“I’ll kiss you after we talk.”

“Of course, duped again.”

“No, not duped, I just don’t want to spend our morning making out when there’s another lunatic after us. Give me details.”

“I don’t have much to tell you. The guy was one of Paul’s porn stars, popular like myself, good-humored, and we were friends back in the day.”

“No way, then why’d you take the gun downstairs last night? You must’ve felt threatened or you wouldn’t have done such a thing.”

Our door intercom buzzes and Sophia looks at me with utter annoyance by the interruption.

“Can’t we have an hour alone without being bullied by the outside world?” she mumbles walking to the door. If my wife were an egg, she’d be the one with the crack. “What?” she shouts into the intercom.

“I’m coming up. If you’re naked, get dressed.”

“Goddammit, Haverty. Can you at least say good morning to me?” There’s silence on the other end and I think my wife’s head’s about to pop. “I didn’t even buzz him in,” she calls back to the living room. “I know he has a key, but he could be polite and wait for the buzzer.”

I nod and take another sip of coffee, listening to her powerful voice echo about the room. “I can’t believe I slept this late,” I yawn and look for my phone. “Something must be up if Haverty’s here without calling.”

“Ya think?” she says sarcastically. “When the hell isn’t something up? And your phone’s upstairs on the dresser. You must’ve left it there last night... don’t change the subject, okay?”

“I’m not, but Haverty’s gonna knock any second. There’s no point in talking about this guy when we’re about to be interrupted.”

She exaggerates a sigh and waits in the kitchen for his arrival. Pacing. Clearing crumbs off the counter with her hands. Watching the clock. Pacing again. Taking a sip of coffee. Sniffing a candle, once, twice, a third time. She’s obsessed with the way things smell. When we go grocery shopping I have to wait patiently as she sniffs every brand of deodorant, laundry detergent, shampoo, and soap. She’s the same way with perfume in the department stores. It’s one of the few things she does that annoys the hell out of me. I just don’t get it.

“Is that candle even scented?” I ask.

“Cologne-cigar-woods.”

“What?”

“That’s what it’s called. Cologne-cigar-woods.”

She puts it down in irritation upon hearing Haverty’s footsteps in the hall. He doesn’t knock; he pounds on the door demanding entry. Soph marches over and takes control of the situation, which is fine by me, I’m still trying to wake my brain and body this morning.

“You’ve got cum in the corner of your mouth,” Haverty declares walking past her and into our entry.

“Hey, nutwad, that was rude,” I call out before Sophia detonates. “He’s not serious, Soph,” I say as I notice she’s wiping her lips. “He’s just being an ass, and speaking of asses, James Robert Haverty, yours is about to get fired. Don’t treat my wife like a whore.”

“Well, Cove Ambrose Everton the third,” he struts in and tosses the St. Louis Tribune on the coffee table, right next to my gun. He stares at it for a moment then shakes his head. “We need to talk.”

I reach for the paper as he reaches for the gun. We pause and look one another in the eye before taking the objects in hand and placing them on our laps. He’s across from me, taking Sophia’s spot on the sofa while she makes a surprisingly diplomatic gesture and pours him a cup of coffee.

“You think your wife could give us a moment alone?”

“His wife, once again, is right here and can hear you. That’s like the third time this week I’ve been ignored by everyone. What the fuck?”

I grin at the mug she hands him. It has the word ‘dickhead’ printed on the side that faces me, with an arrow pointing upward. As Haverty sips, the arrow points to him.

“Clever, Soph.” I pat the sofa and she sits next to me.

“Yeah, clever,” he says, after seeing the word. “I guess we all have the correct mugs for our personalities. I’m a dickhead, she’s got a photo of that Grumpy Cat creature on hers, and yours is solid black. Fitting.”

“She’s not a creature, she’s a cat, and she’s awesome. Her name’s Tardar Sauce and I love her,” Sophia explains.

“How can you love a fictional character, that’s bullshit.”

“She’s not fictional! Grumpy Cat’s real! Back off Haverty or I’ll kick you out of our place. Don’t pick on my love for all things cute and fuzzy. Now, what do you want?”

“You think that creature’s...”

“Haverty, knock it off,” I jump in and stop their bickering. “Sophia’s right, what’s up this morning?” I flip through the paper in search of news about David and Ivy, but come up empty-handed.

“It’s not the paper, Cove. I came to talk to you about something else... in private,” he turns to Sophia, wanting her to leave, but instead she wraps her arm around mine and ignores his request. He disregards the discussion for now, and focuses on the paper. “The Tribune has a small article on David, only mentioning a body was found in a parking lot at the Scarlett’s cross streets, without using the bar’s name. It mentions the investigation is ongoing, and the article is so short you probably glanced right past it. I’m sure Kaitlyn had something to do with its placement in the paper, and the edit. Plus, there’s no mention of Ivy.”

“I’m not surprised, but I am relieved. I bet if you pick up one of the smaller newspapers or one outside the city, you’ll find more information.” I toss it on the table and sigh. “So what else? What’s the issue?”

He rubs the barrel of my gun and looks at Sophia, then at me, then to her, and back at me. I’m slow this morning, but after a few minutes I finally catch on. He wants to talk about the guns.

“Soph, go get my phone, would you?”

“Seriously?”

“Please? I want to make sure everything’s still okay with Ivy.”

“Yeah, and get him a shirt too. He needs to cover those ugly nips,” Haverty smirks and takes another drink from the ‘dickhead’ mug.

“No,” she says.

Wow. I’d expect her to slam her mug on the table and stomp off, but she’s not gonna cave to our requests. I turn back to Hav and shrug. “She’ll find out eventually. Go ahead and take the thing. I don’t want it in our place anyway.”

“Wait, take what thing, our gun? No way, not after last night. What if the crazy guy comes back?”

“Soph, trust me. It’s better if he holds onto them for a while.”

“Them? The one from the Scarlett too? Nooo, we need to discuss this first,” she shakes her head with a slight twinge of anxiety in her voice. “I don’t feel safe without a gun in the house. I want it for protection, especially after everything we’ve been through.”