Chapter 5
“We have to tell him.” Chantelle buttered toast.
“Yeah, sure. Like, how are your eggs?” Bobby stirred those he’d cracked into a pad, scrambling them. “And, oh we are a more unusual couple than you know. We like to chase cars and bark at the moon.”
Chantelle narrowed her gaze. “We do neither of those things.”
They talked in hushed tones in the kitchen while Sam took the last turn in the shower. Bobby was uncertain whether Sam liked watching them putter about, or he’d felt too lazy and not wanted to move from the warm patch in the bed. Whatever the reason, he’d chosen to shower last. Maybe part of him still believed he dreamed all this, and, if he moved, it would end.
Sam should have got over this being an illusion when Bobby had stepped on the cold discarded rubber, Sam, in h
