17
Equinox
It was not quite nine the next morning when Connor’s phone rang. We’d both gotten up early, our sleep restless even after making frenzied love sometime after midnight, when he’d woken me and pulled me to him, clearly needing the reassurance of my flesh against his. Of course I didn’t protest; I needed his touch just as much as he needed mine.
We were tired and preoccupied, but at least we’d already showered and dressed. No TV this morning; we were sitting at the dining room table and nursing another round of coffee when the call came through.
The hesitation before he reached for the phone was obvious, but after the third ring he picked up, handling the phone as if it had been infected with some sort of highly contagious virus. “Marie,” he said. A pause as he listened for a m
