Her breath catches.
“But toothbrush is a start.”
She lifts her head and looks at me.
The lamp puts gold in her eyes. The crown is hidden under her hair, but I know it’s there. I know the debt is there too.
I know this happiness ain’t simple.
Good.
Simple never lasts in our world.
“A toothbrush,” she says.
“And Sunday breakfast.”
Her mouth curves. “You cook?”
“Absolutely not. I supervise.”
“That means you drink coffee and insult the cook.”
“Exactly.”
“August will want pancakes.”
I kiss her forehead because if I kiss her mouth, Sunday may start early.
For a while, we just lie there.
Happy for now.
A sex sated woman asleep almost, against me. A kid down the hall. My Harley in the drive. A trailer that ain’t mine with a door I was invited through.
For now, that is enough.
Then her phone buzzes.
Not the old one.
The burner.
The one she brought back from Oregon and keeps in the drawer beside her bed like a loaded gun she doesn’t want to admit she owns.
Her whole body goes stiff.
I feel it before the second buzz.
“Amelia.”
She sits up, pulling the sheet around herself.
I do too.
The drawer buzzes again.
Neither of us moves.