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Maybe I could stay another week. Two at most. Jessica has the dogs. Lawyers will lawyer whether I’m in Riverside or naked in Mexico eating mango with a man who messes with me in ways I’m starting to prefer. Don can complain from any time zone.
Clint slides a plate toward me. “You’re thinking too loud.”
“I was wondering something.”
His eyes sharpen.
I could say it now.
“When do I get your famous pizza?”
He smiles and pops a berry into his mouth. “Soon.”
Soon. I don’t have a lot of that left. Time has become a room without doors or windows. Just a box getting smaller.
Say it.
“I can’t wait.”
Clint’s mouth curves. “You better not build it up too much.”
After lunch, I move to the couch and set my phone on the coffee table. I expect Don’s last-word text any minute. I’m surprised I haven’t already received it.
Clint drops beside me. “You’re doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“The statue thing. Very marble. Very stony inside.”
The phone lights up.
Not Don—Alby. My grip on the phone weakens.
I read the message, almost ignore it, then turn to Clint. “What if we come out of hiding tonight?”
Clint’s eyebrows lift. “Hiding?”
“Be social with other humans. With our clothes on.”
Clint looks down himself, frowning cutely. “Like, on our bodies?”
“Clothes on skin would be required, yes.”
“Shame.”
“Alby invited us out.”
“Alby as in roof-party Alby?”
“Yes.”
“Did he invite us, or did he invite you and you’re extending the invitation?”
“He invited me.” I pause. “I’m inviting you, and that adds up to us.”
Clint studies me. The word us hangs there. In the house, it’s been easy. Out in the world, well, we’ve hardly tested that one.
Finally, he shrugs. “Okay.”
