That night Benjamin had Clarke order pizza for dinner. They opened a bottle of wine and sat in the lounge room watching television. Sasha, they discovered, was not averse to a bit of pizza herself and ate two whole slices and licked the box clean for dessert.
“Perhaps we should have taken the pepperoni off first,” Benjamin commented later in the evening after Sasha had released her third, none-too-pleasant, bottom burp.
“You know, Clarke,” said Benjamin relaxing back into his chair. “I’m glad I hired you. I mean, as opposed to anyone else. We get on really well, don’t we?”
“Yes, we do seem to.”
Benjamin, under the influence of two glasses of white wine, laughed.
Clarke smiled his typically restrained half-smile. “What’s so funny?”
“You, Clarke. It’s like you’re always holding back. I
