When Reggie opened his eyes, he felt as if he’d slept an entire life. He was on his stomach, hugging the pillow like it was the teddy bear he’d loved so much when he was a kid.
He blinked a couple times and then glanced at the clock-radio on the nightstand. The big illuminated numbers read, 4.30 P.M.
“s**t!” He’d slept too long; he’d slept so much. Russell had probably gone to every market in London thinking he had died in his sleep.
Getting out of bed, he approached the window and pulled the curtain aside. He looked out the window, gathering his thoughts. It was drizzling outside. He shook his head, put on his sneakers, and went downstairs.
Reggie found Russell in the kitchen. And, oh gosh, he was cooking.
Reggie caught his breath when he saw Russell, sleeves pushed up and an apron a
