I toweled off, brushed my teeth, put on boxer briefs and an old tee, and practically fell into bed. The bedside light was on, but I was so tired that it didn’t bother me.
My vibrating cell was another matter.
I had six texts and three missed calls from Dexter.What the fuck?
That’s it? I need more info.
Please.
I know it’s late, but that’s okay. You can call.
Okay. I’ll call you.
Pick up, please.
Hello?
I frowned at the long thread of messages and immediately decided Dexter was terrible fantasy material.
I was away from my phone, I typed.It’s late. Go to sleep. She’s fine.
Satisfied with my message, I set my cell on the nightstand and switched off the lamp.
Buzz buzz
Another message and another missed call.Humor me. Please answer.
Grrr.
“Why are you calling me?” I growled in greeting.
“Sorry. I just…I’ve been waiting to hear from you. I was hoping for more information than ‘She’s fine.’”
I didn’t reply right away. It was disconcerting to chat about a pregnant woman with the man whose face you’d fucked in the shower…if only in a dream.
But Dexter didn’t sound right. He was too anxious, tooworried. How was he going to survive another eight months in this state? And it would only get worse once there was a baby to care for. He should have been talking to a therapist or a friend. Not me.
I scratched my bearded jaw and sat up in bed, cautioning myself to be nice and…gentle.
“Freya wasn’t sick while I was there. She’d worked in her studio most of the day and she was tired. I made her a tuna sandwich and watched a terrible movie with her. Something about being thirteen and wishing you were thirty.”
“13 Going on 30. Love that movie,” Dexter replied with a strained laugh.
“Hmph. She fell asleep and I left. That’s it.”
“All right. Sounds good. How was the drive?”
“Long.” I yawned.
“I’m really glad you went. I was, um…” He sighed heavily on the line. “I just…fuck. Never mind. Sorry to bug you and thanks for?—”
“What were you going to say?” I intercepted. Silence. “You might as well tell me. You’re making yourself worry about nothing, and you need to sleep, too. Who else is going to make fritters in the morning?”
He huffed in amusement. “My crew is on fritter and donut duty tomorrow, but…you’re right. I’m too uptight about this.”
“I agree.”
“But it’s a big deal.”
