Somewhere, a phone was ringing. Jack cracked an eyelid, saw that the room had grown dusky and dim. A quick glance at the clock on the bedside table told him it was seven fifty-two. He and Kate had both collapsed after that bout of frenzied lovemaking, both of them clearly needing the release of sleep after the day’s events.
He realized the phone wasn’t his, had to be Kate’s, since it had that annoying Apple-standard ringtone going. Where was it? Off in the house somewhere; he vaguely recalled that she’d dropped her purse on the kitchen counter as they came inside.
“What?” she mumbled, and turned over in bed next to him.
“Phone,” he said. “Yours.”
She sat up in bed and pushed back her tousled hair. “Oh. Guess I’d better check it. I don’t really feel like it, though.”
Jack kissed her, s
