Sterling's picture pops up as an incoming call beeps on my phone. I answer it.
"Yellow," I say.
"Are you drunk?" he asks.
"I might be. I don't know. I've had a few glasses of wine."
"Why didn't you take me?" I ask.
There is a brief silence. "What?"
"Why didn't you take me with you to France? You left without even telling me. Do I really mean so little to you?"
There's another pause and I can hear Sterling breathing through the phone. "I thought about it," he says. "But you were asleep, and...well, I guess I could have woken you. Would you like me to come back?"
"No, I want to be in France, dummy."
I can almost hear him smile. "Listen, the reason I called…" He sighs. "I can't sleep. I miss you. A lot. I can't stop thinking about you. I keep looking at my empty bed and imagining you lying next to me. I want to touch you, feel you…"
"Sterling," I interrupt. "I want to work."
"You—what?"