She climbed out of bed and pulled on the expensive T-shirt she had given me the night before.
It fell to the tops of her thighs.
I watched her walk toward the door.
She glanced back.
“My face is up here.”
“I’m aware.”
“Professional instructor.”
“I’m off duty.”
She disappeared into the living room.
I found my shorts beneath the bed and followed.
Annie stood beside the kitchen counter reading her phone.
There were nine missed calls.
I could see that much without trying.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Nine calls is usually something.”
“Not with Rachel.”
Another message arrived.
Annie read it and laughed.
“What?”
“She wants to know why I’m not at the cottage.”
I looked around.
“You are.”
“She called the house phone.”
“There’s a house phone?”
“Apparently.”
“Why didn’t we hear it?”
We both looked toward the living room.
A beige telephone sat behind a decorative wooden sailboat.
Its cord was not connected to anything.
