In the morning, she woke alone, splayed across the futon spread-eagle as if it were her own. She lay there a moment, eyes shut, trying to get her bearings. Slowly the night before came back to her—Amanda’s bachelorette party, the Shark Bait, Delaney.
Delaney.
Somewhere in the small apartment she heard the toilet flush, then floorboards creaked and a hand tapped her foot as Delaney passed by the futon, heading for the kitchen. “Rise and shine, morning glory,” Delaney said, stifling a yawn. “I know you’re up. I saw your eyelids flutter.”
Tara rolled onto her side and propped her head up with her hand. In the kitchen, Delaney stood at the counter making coffee, her hair a crazy halo of red curls zigzagging every which way. When she saw Tara watching her, she winked and added another scoop of coffee to the pot. “What do you want for breakfast?” she asked.
Taking a chance, Tara said, “You.”