Chapter Sixteen
“Good morning, or is it afternoon yet?”
“I think it’s nearly eleven,” Peach replies so pleasantly that I sit down across from her in this little garden within a garden, surrounded by roses.
“You look very relaxed,” I comment. Peach, fresh as a daisy, leans back in a lounge chair with a book in her hand. I notice how lovely her breasts look peeking through a bright white tee-shirt. Her tan is even deeper than when we arrived here. I wonder for all her time with Tasia these weeks, that she’s had time to lay out in the sun.
“Thank you. If you don’t mind my saying so, you don’t look so well. Are you all right?” Her concern is genuine; there are no vague cagey eyes to make me wonder what’s behind her comment.
“This has been the oddest three weeks of my life,” I tell her. “I
