Chapter 12
I was with Jeremy for nineteen years, lest we forget, “married” in the eyes of everybody but the State of Washington, and in my young and single days had rarely slept alone. I quickly got used to the pattern of a partner, even if it was Thumper. We went to bed at the same time, more nights than not bidding Bob-Gunnar and Mikey Shaw a good night—you couldn’t tear that boy away from my pretend fiancé. We laid awake chatting and laughing and, soon, cuddling. By Wednesday, whoever woke up first would shake the other awake so we could go down to breakfast.
And on Wednesday, we opened with a sunshiny, “Good morning, Mikey.”
“You’ve got quite a reliable employee on your hands here,” I pointed out to Bob-Gunnar as the breakfast plates were heaped and passed. “The last one to go home
