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me with the door. That’s how it goes with the three of us though. We’ll probably be wrestling on the floor of the nursing home for the last goddamn pudding cup when we’re eighty.
Chase’s grin faded as he looked from me to Cord. He stepped all the way inside and crossed his arms. “So what’d I miss?”
“Nothing yet.” I jerked my head at the door. “Let’s move.”
CHAPTER SIX
CHASE
Stephanie was a terrible morning person. I always have to tempt her out of bed with coffee and food and finally threats of ice water in her face if nothing else works. This morning she actually beat me out of the sheets for once. I found her sitting quietly at the kitchen table, wearing nothing but one of my old white t-shirts.
“Hey, baby,” I greeted her, grabbing a coffee cup as she slowly raised her head and regarded me with eyes that looked too tired to remember who I was.
“Hi,” she said softly.
I filled the mug with coffee and handed it to her but she shook her head.
“Too tired to drink coffee,” she yawned, then folded her arms on the table and rested her head on them.
“That’s why one absorbs coffee, Steph. All the malicious caffeine soaks into your bloodstream and forces you to greet the day.”
“Hmph,” she grunted.
I poured a bowl of cereal and tried to interest her in it but she just shook her head. I set the coffee mug down and stood behind her, rubbing her shoulders.
“You sick?” I asked.
“No,” she sighed, relaxing into my massage. “God, Chase, you’re so good at that.”
She didn’t mean it to sound sexy but one of the age-old struggles of the morning was between man and dick. Mine chose that moment to offer a hearty salute.
I was weighing the pros and cons of pulling her shirt up and letting my boner press against her skin when she suddenly exhaled noisily and rose from the table.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her.
She pushed ribbons of uncooperative hair out of her face and glanced at the clock above the stove. “I’ve got to get ready for work.”
“No, Stephanie . What’s wrong ?”
She stood there in our kitchen apartment, barefooted, arms crossed, staring at me. It was just one of the many moments in our life together when I had no fucking clue what was going on inside her head. Mostly that excited me. Sometimes it made me uneasy.
This was one of those times.
“I hate my job,” she finally said.
I stirred my own cup of coffee. “Since when?”
She shrugged. “Since every day. It’s one absurd meeting after another with everyone trying to outdo each other on the corporate cleverness scale and avoid anything resembling real work.”
I wondered if now was a good time to ask her about the law school brochures I’d found in the trash last week. For a long time that had been Stephanie’s objective; law school at ASU and then a job with the public defender’s office. Her father was still in prison in upstate New York for whatever his part was in spearheading a huge illegal sports gambling ring and fixing the outcomes. When I’d met Stephanie she was just emerging from some trouble she’d gotten into as a local bookie. Her brother Michael was still in the business. He didn’t come around often and that was fine with me. From the beginning he’d struck me as a hard character whose shadows were destined to swallow him whole.
“You could always quit,” I said carefully. “Look for another job.”
It wasn’t the right time to bring up touchy subjects. If Stephanie wanted to talk about law school then she probably wouldn’t have tossed all her paperwork in the trash.
“Yeah,” she nodded, somewhat absently. “Jobs are hard to come by though. Never mind.”
She started shuffling tiredly away. Then she stopped when she was halfway down the hallway, turned and looked at me through a curtain of hair. “I’m sorry.”
I was perplexed. “For
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