Ten-thirty in the morning. I shouldn’t have felt as well as I did, I knew that, but I was too happy about it to care. I was rested, my eyes were clear and pain free, I was very comfortable, and I smelled bacon. Whoever Steven was, if he was single, I was going to ask him to marry me. I think the s*x had been great, too, but to be honest, I couldn’t remember if we’d even had s*x. Bacon, s*x, didn’t matter; one was as good as another. That made me laugh at myself. I sure hadn’t been much of a guest yet, but today, I’d make that up to Steven—somehow.
Determined to be useful and helpful, I started to get up. Then my body reminded me that it hurt all over. It whined something awful about my throwing it over a cliff and then running it through several rinse cycles in a washing machine. Or somet
