I stepped up the antisubmarine patrol in the general vicinity of his periscope. “You’re only up to the M in your E to Z.”
“Which is when I spotted the pile of clothes on the couch. The TV was on with the sound turned off, there was one of those late-night shows where some girls go off with some men and then they talk dirty about each other and try to guess who said what about who. I fingered the clothing—your miniskirt, your body-hugging ribbed sweater, your purple tights, your gray Calvin Klein underpants. I think my hearts, the one in my chest, the one on my sleeve, skipped several beats when I saw Dwayne’s pinstriped button-down shirt, his designer jeans, his silk boxer shorts.”
“Ooooooooh.”
“I started folding the clothing over the back of t
