“You’re kidding.”

“Seriously,” she says. “Did you ever bother noticing how I was making sure that you were covered at all times from an outside viewpoint? I mean, sure, someone might have walked up and saw my head in your lap, but I’m sure you would’ve noticed before they saw too much of anything.”

“You know, I was kind of worried about this,” I laugh, “but I think this just might be the best decision I’ve ever made.”

“Take it easy there, Tonto,” she says. “We’re dating exclusively, but that doesn’t mean we’re married. Pull it back a bit, will you?”

She’s smiling.

This is the first time I’ve ever really seen her smile in the daylight.

The woman I went to bed with isn’t the woman I woke up with, and for once, that’s not a bad thing.

“So, you wanna fuck and get some coffee?”

Or, you know, maybe she’s the same woman and I’m just getting to know her better. That’s probably closer to the truth.

She kisses my chest and I feel something that I’d completely forgotten.

I feel cared for.

She lifts her head, asking, “Or do you want to do the coffee thing first?”

I chuckle.

“Maybe some coffee,” I tell her. “Otherwise, I don’t know that I’m going to make a good showing.”

“Didn’t you sleep well?” she asks.

I’m about to tell her the truth, but the look in her eyes is so innocent, so—what’s the word?—concerned and I can’t bear to hurt her feelings.

“I slept all right,” I lie. “I think I’m just getting used to having another person in bed with me.”

“I’m in bed with you all the time,” she teases.

“Not sleeping,” I tease back.

“All right, I’ll go get some coffee on,” she says, actually going as far as to cover herself as she reaches over the side of the bed for her bathrobe.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“It’s cold,” she says. “I’m used to your body heat. I’ve been sleeping with it all night.”

This is what a relationship feels like. I almost can’t remember feeling it before.

It’s not a bad feeling.

Wrigley’s hair is disheveled and hilarious as she walks out the door on her way to the kitchen, and I’m starting to wonder what I thought was so scary about settling down for a while.

I don’t know if things are going to work out or not, but this is probably the best morning I’ve had in a few years.

“So,” I call through the open doorway, “what time do you go to work today?”

“I’m off today,” she calls back. “And will you get your lazy ass out here? I’m freezing.”

I smile to myself. This is quite the turnaround from last night.

Last night, she was storming out of my rental car because I’d only suggested that we go out on a real date and when she got in that cab… I guess I don’t really need to go back over that right now.

Last night was a very different world with very different people in it.

I’m up and out of bed, morning wood kicking in, though I haven’t slept, so I don’t bother with pants. I just check the top drawer of her dresser for a towel. We tend to go through quite a few of them on any given occasion.

Wrapped up, but hardly hiding anything, I walk out of the bedroom and find Wrigley putting bread in her toaster.

“Hey there,” I say as I walk up, wrapping my arms around her.

“Well good morning to both of you,” she laughs. “Did you change your mind on coffee?”

“Nah,” I answer.

“So, there is something I think we should probably talk about,” she says. “I don’t want to put it all on the line or anything, but I just want to know where you stand.”

“Okay.”

“Your roommate,” she says, “what is the deal with the two of you?”

The question catches me off guard.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Well, the first night we got together, you shouted her name as you were coming. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not judging or anything.”

“Yeah, didn’t you shout your name about that same time?”

“Yeah, but whatever,” she says, leaning back into me. “I just need to know what kind of relationship the two of you have. Like are you just roommates, are you roommates that fuck, are you hung up on her, what?”

“We’re just roommates,” I tell her. “We’ve had a near miss or two—actually, now that I think about it, just the one, but it was kind of drawn out—but no, nothing’s ever happened.”

We’re in a relationship and people in relationships are supposed to be honest with each other, right?

“Okay,” she says. “You’re being totally honest, right? I’m not going to impale you with a meat thermometer if you tell me the two of you have bumped uglies.”

“You know, that’s one of my least favorite terms for it,” I laugh.

“I’m serious,” she says. “This is the free pass for both of us. You can say pretty much whatever here and, as long as it’s not way too fucking overboard, it’ll slide.”

“Really,” I tell her, “nothing’s happened.”

“Yeah,” she says, “I heard you the first time, but are there feelings there or what? Guys don’t usually call out the name of their roommate when they’re slogging someone else’s snatch.”

“Where the fuck did you learn to talk like that?”

“Answer the question,” she says, pulling away from me to butter the toast she pulls from the toaster.

“I don’t know,” I tell her. “I thought there might have been something there, but she’s with some other guy now. It doesn’t matter.”

“So if she weren’t single…?”

“Nothing happened when she was,” I answer, starting to get a little tired of this particular line of questioning. I understand where Wrigley’s coming from, but I wasn’t prepared for it this morning.

“But if she weren’t single now, would you be here with me?”

“What does it even matter?” I snap. “I’m not there, I’m here. Can we just drop it?”

“No,” she answers calmly. “I think you should be honest with yourself before you really decide to jump into something with me. Am I the woman that you really want to be with, or am I just a decent second choice? You’re really not going to hurt my feelings unless you lie to me.”

“How do you do that?” I ask.

“Do what?”

“Just stand there and calmly ask me if I’d rather be with someone else?”

“Well, it does seem like something that might make things difficult for us in the long run, and if that’s the case, I’d like to be prepared for it. I don’t see any reason to begrudge you your feelings if that’s what they are. Is that what they are?”

“I don’t know, okay?”

That’s probably not the most romantic thing I’ve said to a woman in the morning.

“Okay,” she says. “Are you really ready to have a relationship with me, or are you just trying to run away from the fact that Leila’s with someone else?”

“When did you turn into Dr. Phil?”

She just laughs.

“I don’t know where my mind is, and I don’t know what my feelings for Leila are, but I do know that from the moment you woke up this morning, everything in the world felt so much better.”

“Well, that’s something, I guess,” she says. “Toast?”

Chapter Thirteen

Screening

Leila

Back in the office again, and Annabeth is getting on my last nerve.

I made the stupid mistake of telling her what happened last night with Dane and how he just took off with barely a word. Now, she’s giving me her, “You know what you gotta do?” routine, and after the twelfth repetition of the question, I’m starting to boil.

“It’s not that simple,” I tell her. “Dane and I have never really broken the ice. I mean, we have, but something’s always happened to cause it to freeze back over again.”

“You do love your metaphors,” she says, the smoke coming out of her mouth in short puffs.

“I really don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I tell her. “Any news on the job front?”

“Nope,” she says. “One of these days, I’m going to get the phone call from somewhere. I’m just trying to keep my sanity until it happens, ya know?”