I give myself a fright when I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror. I’ve got puffy raccoon eyes and something perched on my head that looks like roadkill. I take care of business, then wash my hands and attempt to smooth down my hair. I splash cold water on my face and find a tube of toothpaste in a drawer. I refuse to use Matteo’s toothbrush, so I squeeze a blob onto my finger and do the best I can to smush it around in my mouth and get rid of some of the fur on my teeth.
When I’m done, I open the door to find Matteo standing in front of a big wooden armoire, removing a fresh white dress shirt from a hanger.
He’s naked from the waist up.
I freeze like one of those pointer dogs when it finds the dead bird its master shot down. My eyes bulge out of my head. I exhale a long, unsteady
