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“What will you give me if I did?”

“I’ll let you sleep in your bed with me tonight.”

I stared and I couldn’t tell if what she’d said was making me feel more sober or more drunk. One thing was for sure, it was making me more deranged by the second. “Excuse me?”

“Just sleeping, to be clear. But the bed is huge, and I saw your legs hanging off that sofa last night. I felt bad. Since you won’t switch, we’ll share.”

“I can’t tell if you’re just messing with me.”

“Of course I’m messing with you, but not just. I meant what I said. Did you meet your goal?”

“I did,” I said smugly.

“There will be a pillow between us at all times.”

“I can work with that.”

“You’re not supposed to be working anything here.”

I ignored that. “Wow,” I was a bit shell-shocked. “Sharing a bed. Is it going to be too much excitement for your virgin sensibilities?”

She leaned her head against the back of the sofa and started to snore.

I knew it would only encourage her, but I couldn’t hold back my laugh.

I tried to sober up after that. I didn’t want to miss one minute of this.

I started to make myself a cup of coffee, but Ro shooed me away and took over.

“Where are my dad and Ida?” I asked her. They’d been pleasantly absent from bothering me for longer than the usual stretch.

“I booked them a nice restaurant reservation and a show on the strip to give you a break.”

“You complete me.”

“Like fire and gasoline.”

“That’s it. Let’s start planning the wedding.”

“Marriage isn’t a joke.”

“Sure it is.”

We were looking at each other, identical expressions on our face in spite of the fact that I was less than sober. She handed me a cup of coffee, and I drank it dutifully.

I might have drifted off briefly. I woke with a start, not wanting to miss a thing.

I blinked a few times, and she was suddenly at my side, tugging on my arm.

“C’mon. Up and at ’em. I can’t carry you.”

“Carry me where?”

“To bed.”

My body followed her without needing any permission from my brain.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN