Chapter 4

His middle and forefinger brushed the tops of mine, a mutual satisfaction. Our gazes locked.

“You hungry?” I asked, scrambling for something to say, the awkward moment lingering too long.

Dave pulled away, and turned, rearranging a small pocket of space on the cluttered sofa, pushing aside a pile of unread newspapers and video game magazines onto the cushion next to him before sitting down.

I wiped sweat from my face. “I’ll turn on the AC,” I said, reaching behind him in the window and cranking the dial to high cool.

I plopped myself down on the recliner, letting out a contented sigh.

“It smells funky in here,” he said.

“Probably my lunch.”

He waited for me to continue. “Chinese take-out,” I said.

“Have you forgotten how to cook decent, more substantial meals since our life a year ago?”

“I cook for a living.”

He grinned, showing me his unnaturally white teeth. “I see you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”

“I’ve lost everything else since us.”