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She exchanged his frame for the sofa arm. “Put a sock on the bedroom door, so I’ll know not to enter.”
On the way to the front door, he checked his phone. On the camera, Emmaline stood wearing a form-fitting top and jeans that hugged her body. Instead of back in a ponytail, her hair framed her face.
Emmaline was curvy in her own right; he loved curves and the places they created on a woman’s body for his hands, and he never deviated from that. Emmaline and Raina’s shapes were vastly different, however.
Raina, with Emmaline’s body, could do him in. Emmaline with Raina’s body was still Emmaline.
He opened the door.
She waved. “Hey, Luke.”
Each time she called him Luke, it reminded him of Khalid. Back in school, the names “Luke” and “Kyle” were, at first, inside jokes. Eventually, it became what they encouraged people to call them. Once he started going by Luke, his last name no longer mattered, and his features became “Mediterranean.”
“Hi, Em. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah.” She nodded. “Can I come in?”
“I’m not alone at the moment.”
“Oh. I see.” She took a half-step backward. “Is it…her?”
“It is.”
“I see things worked out.”
“Better than I thought they would.”
She pushed up onto the balls of her feet. “I’ll check in with you at work, then. I had a question about us possibly doing a combined surgery for an extensive tracheal resection. I’ll be working on the intrathoracic portion, but I’ll need you for the neck portion.”
Even before their relationship, they never discussed work after hours. “Of course, Em,” he said. “We’ll get together to go over the details.”
“Well then,” she clapped, her palms loudly smacking together, “that was it. Have a good night.”
“You too.”
He waited until she was gone before he closed the door and returned to find Raina sitting up, eyes closed and swaying like a pendulum. Smiling, he guided her to the bedroom.
Long pants and a long-sleeved shirt were overkill to sleep in, so he coaxed her onto the bed and stripped her down to her underwear. Next, he went through her bag and found nothing close to resembling sleepwear.
“Do you sleep naked or something?” He held up a T-shirt that couldn’t possibly hang farther than the bottoms of her breasts. “Yeah, you won’t be wearing this anywhere but at home for the next three months.”
“Is it yellow?” she mumbled.
“Yes.”
“It’s a sleep shirt. I usually wear it with the gray shorts with white trim on the bottom.”
He found the shorts in question. “Raina, these are panties.”
“They’re shorts.”
“I’m only putting these on because you’re sleeping next to me.”
He slid on the shorts first. Then, as he sat her up to pull the shirt on over her head, she reached back and unhooked her bra. The bra wasted no time falling to her lap.
“Being naked’s not a big deal to me,” she said. “I’ve been naked in front of dozens of people.”
He frowned.“Whatpeople?”
