I dropped my bag on the dusty, friendly sofa in my living room. My feet were a bit sore and I needed a shower. However, before I could walk to the bathroom, one of my phones vibrated inside my bag. I dropped down onto the upholstery as I opened it to look for my cell phone. It was him. At exactly the time I'd promised.
- Damien? - I held the phone between my shoulder and my ear, suddenly aware of the masculine smell of his jacket on my shoulders.
- Are you home?
- Yes. I told you I'd be fine by cab. - I repeated.
- I don't like your refusals very much. Tom might as well take you home. - his voice sounded resentful.
- When do we have our next appointment? - I changed the subject to avoid another argument.
- Next Friday. Ulysses invited us to a table on Broadway, after the exhibi
