Edmond
She says she’s tired and heading to bed.
An hour later.
Edmond
Her lights went off, I believe she’s asleep, sir.
Tuesday and Wednesday rush by with more of the same, and when I exit the shower Wednesday night, another message is waiting for me.
Edmond
She’s upset and thinks the housekeeper took one of her outfits.
I doubt that.
Which one?
Edmond
One of the rompers I purchased for her, sir.
Towel wrapped around my waist, I exit the bathroom and stare at the romper bunched up near the top of my pillow.
Buy her another one.
Edmond
It’s already on the way, sir.
I strip and climb into bed, bringing the tantalizing garment to my nose. I’m so messed up.
Another message comes through.
Edmond
I don’t think she’s feeling well.
Why?
Edmond
She told me she doesn’t think she’s feeling well, sir.
I roll my eyes and stare at my phone. It’s been almost four years. I haven’t spoken to anyone on the phone. Text yes, and up until recently I didn’t want to speak to anyone, but …
I dial Edmond.
“Sir? This is a surprise.”
“Put her on the phone.”
He hesitates. “I, uh, yes. One second please.”
He shuffles around, and there’s a knock on a door. “Miss Thea—” His voice fades out, and then there’s a rustle of sheets. Damn it. Did I wake her up? If she doesn’t feel well, I’m sure she doesn’t want to speak on the phone.
“—wait you’re giving me a phone …” Her voice grows louder. “Hello?”
