THIRTY-SIX
Over a light breakfast of rolls and coffee, Brigit spent most of the time watching him. When he had put the last piece of buttered bread into his mouth and swallowed it down, she leaned over the table and took his hand. “Last night, Johnny. The things you said. Did you mean them?”
Johnny looked down at her hands, the way they held his, and he liked what he saw. “I only need to talk to him, that’s all.”
“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about what you said about us.”
He looked up at that point. “Us?”
“You said you’d like to get to know me better. Outside of bed.”
She laughed and Johnny felt the relief lifting him up, lightening his spirits. “Yes. Yes, I would.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. Brigit, I haven’t … I haven’t got anything pulling me back to Spain
