Chapter 4
Ft. Walton Beach, FL
Philip
CHARLES AND I spent a lazy afternoon doing as little as possible, mainly because the late flight to and early departure from Atlanta, along with crossing three time zones, had taken a toll. After a light supper and a couple of glasses of wine each, we crawled in bed before ten and crashed. We slept late the next morning, and I woke up first, a little disoriented until I remembered where we were. Charles had left the upstairs windows open, as the temperature was in the high sixties, and the sound of the surf had quickly lulled us to sleep. Not that we’d needed a great deal of encouragement after all that travel.
I looked over at Charles, who was snoring softly, sprawled out on his back, hogging the king-size bed as he sometimes did, his morning erec
