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“Yeah, me too, if I’m honest.”
“Thank you!” Meredith shouts. “That book traumatized me as a kid.”
I love listening to her talk about books. “Oh! Do you have the one about the baby bat?”
“Stellaluna?”
“Yes! I love that one.”
“Dr. Seuss stresses you out, but you think the story of a baby bat who loses her mother will help you sleep?”
Meredith laughs, and it’s the most beautiful sound in the world.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
I laugh again as I grab the book off the shelf and stretch out on my bed. I hear the sounds of rustling. “Okay. I’m comfy.”
“Me too,” I say.
“What are you wearing?” Meredith asks.
Oh my god, she’s so cute. “Flannel sleep pants.”
“Not going to describe the shirt?”
I snap a photo of myself from the neck down, bare chest and all, and send it to her.
“Not wearing one.”
“Tease,” she says…and my ego gets a bit of a boost when I can tell the exact moment the photo comes through. Meredith sucks in a breath. “Oh damn.”
And somewhere along the way, this bedtime story becomes something else entirely.
ChapterTen
Meredith
“Should I take that as a compliment?”
Nate really shouldn’t feign humility.
“Sir,” I admonish. “You know what you look like, right?”
“Like what?”
I grumble. As if he doesn’t know. “Gah! Like a freaking Adonis, okay?”
Nate scoffs. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
After a short pause, I ask, “Should I send you a photo of what I’m wearing?”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
“If you want to, I’d love to see ….”
Nate trails off when the photo comes through: my hair piled on top of my head in a scrunchie and my face covered in a mucous-colored peel-off beauty mask. I’m wearing my usual slovenly pajamas: a vee-neck long-sleeve tee-shirt and cotton shorts I’ve had for a hundred years.
