Chapter 11
Remy woke at an ungodly hour Friday morning to the sound of his cell phone ringing. Beside him, Lane grumbled sleepily, “What time is it? That me?”
“It’s me.” Remy yawned and rolled away from his lover to fumble for his phone on the bedside table. The ringing was insistent, demanding. He usually set it to do not disturb when he went to sleep; had he forgotten? They’d been up late the previous evening with Lane’s folks, getting to know each other and drinking way too much wine, which Remy now regretted. His bladder ached and his head throbbed, and he couldn’t find the damn phone…
His wrist bumped it and, a moment later, he heard a thump as the iPhone fell to the floor. f**k.
Lane tugged the blankets around himself. “You going to answer it, or what?” he groused.
“I’m trying.”
