“I’m not used to men spoiling me,” I told Timber, studying the meal he prepared for us: cheese and ham omelets, buttered wheat toast, and glasses of orange juice.
“You should be. Had you not run off in March, I would have given you the world, and all the planets to go with it. My Indian people can create magic like that.”
I laughed.
He laughed.
We drank coffee and enjoyed breakfast again, together, this time homemade and in the shithole of the cabin, which sort of made it better, perfectly real. We stood at the counter, elbow-to-elbow, somewhat hunched over and eating. Conversation led to my private time in the bathroom and the call he had just so happened to hear me make. I told him about Carlos and Ellie.
“I just wanted to tell Ellie about us…the thing that happened last night betwe
