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Richie was already up and looking surprisingly fresh when Rebecca wandered into the kitchen. She had set her alarm for nine, and then took a shower and got dressed, hoping to feel somewhat awake before she faced the day. It wasn’t working.
“Just in time,” he said. “There’s coffee. I’m making French toast. How many slices?”
“Two would be great.” She noticed he no longer asked if she wanted to eat. He had learned she was pretty much always ready for food. She was going to have to spend twice as long at the gym this week, however, to make up for missing so many days while staying with Richie.
She sipped some hot coffee and gave him a quick run-down of the non-confidential information from the police station the night before. Before she knew it, the French toast was on the table. He eve
