“You can use the room to get changed,” I say. “I’ll go upstairs.”
Wendy nods, looking as weary as I feel. “Thank you.”
I wait for Skeeter to be done in the upstairs bathroom and change in there. I take my time trying to avoid the unavoidable until I have to accept my destiny and return downstairs. Wendy is already in bed with a laptop on her legs, typing. The room is filled with her vanilla scent, and I can only say I’m glad she’s wearing a sensible flannel pajama. As un-sexy as pajamas go.
“Good night,” I say, getting in the lower bunk.
The bed is too small. If I try to lie flat on it, my feet poke out at the other end. I experimentally curl on one side in a fetal position, not exactly comfortable but… Gosh, I miss the California King upstairs.
I close my eyes and try to relax.
Cli
