Page 83 of Cuts like a Knife
Dammit. He’s right. I did say that.
“That was, like, twenty years ago264,” I finally say, exasperated. Surely he wasn’t still holding to an instruction I’d given him that long ago.
“But it was what you wanted. I’ve always done exactly what you wanted.”
Was that true? Maybe. I wasn’t really sure, but I was tired and I didn’t want to argue anymore.
“Can we put a pin in this? I’m exhausted. Can we go to sleep?” My head turns toward the little bedroom, that white expanse of bed265.
Seeing my face, Drew is immediately chivalrous.
“You can take the bed. It’s fine. I’ll sleep out here on the couch.”
I look at his long body, folded onto the little loveseat. He won’t be able to spread out. He’ll have to crunch up into a little ball.
“No, you don’t have to. That’s silly. You’re way too tall for the couch. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“You’re too tall for the couch, too. No one could sleep comfortably on this couch. Let’s just share the bed, Lex. We can just sleep.”
“Can we? We never seem to,” I say.
“Got any stuffed animals? We can make a wall between us. A line. A barrier.”
I look up and there’s laughter in his eyes again.
“That won’t be necessary,” I say.
“Okay,” he agrees. “Then let’s go to bed.” He stands up.
“Hey, so tomorrow, do you have a lot to do?” I ask.
“Nothing. The clients are golfing again. They’re not interested in the dates. Only the cooking stuff. The product placement. I was just going to hang out until the cruise.266”
“I have a little work to do before bed, actually,” I say. “So, I’ll just—”
“I’ll leave you to it,” he says. “I’m gonna take a shower. See you in there.”
He kisses the top of my head before heading into the bathroom. I sigh and unpack my laptop. I’m tired, but I need to pound out a few more outlines and ideas before truly packing it in for the day. And I need to check my work email.
Things heat up on the set of Hot Slice
Grills and tempers flare as the cast attempts a beachside barbecue challenge
Tipsy tempers
Canadian chef blows his top at playful Savannah Jack
Washed up
Forgettable Maylee Wise banks on reality for a fresh start
There’s nothing new in my email from SpyMaster.
Chapter Twenty Two
I wake to a text soon after dawn.
Maylee: Where are you at? Front desk says you’re not even staying here???
