Knock knock knock.
Knock knock knock knock.
“Ryan … someone’s at the door,” I slur into the pillow.
“Whaaaa?”
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
I sit up. “Babe, someone’s at the door. You’re the man. You go.”
“s**t … yeah … okay.” He rolls over and scrabbles around for pants.
“What time is it?”
He drags a finger against his phone’s surface. “One thirty.” And then he’s up, moving through the cozy, dark bedroom, lamplight from the living room spilling through the open door. The main door’s slide lock opens, followed by voices.
One of which, more than anything, I do not want to hear.
Groaning, I jump out from under the sheet, grab the hotel robe, and move to see what the hell is going on.
“There she is. Tha’s my daughter. She’ll take care a’ me now so let GO,” Lucy says, trying and failing to yan
