CHAPTER FIFTY
A harsh knock sounded on the front door of the studio.
Rachel pushed the twisted sheet from her body in sleepy confusion, wondering what time it was. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and she tried to recall if she’d yet paid her rent to month-end. The morning sun shone in through the terrace doors. She checked the clock: 6:15 a.m.
“Coming.” She was annoyed as she picked up her bathrobe off the floor, slipped her arms into the sleeves, wrapped the material around herself, and tied the sash. She ran her fingers through her hair and looked back at him on the bed. He was still fast asleep, with one foot and one hand flopped onto the floor. The flimsy sheet did little to disguise his nakedness. She wanted to crawl back in with him.
The knock sounded against the wooden door frame a
