Page 52 of Maid For Each Other
As I finished the sentence, the bedroom door opened and Abi wandered into the room. Her hair was everywhere and her eyes only half-open as she shuffled past the living room and toward the kitchen. I would’ve expected the bright TV to catch her attention, but she didn’t even look in my direction.
I felt like I should say something so she knew I was there—I didn’t want to scare her—but it was possible she was just getting water and going back to bed, and in that case, I didn’t want to wake her and make it more difficult for her to go back to sleep.
“Just send the fucking approval so I can sleep,” Roman said.
Which brought Abi’s attention over to the living room. She looked surprised when her eyes landed on me, then took in the rest of the room.
“Will do,” I said.
“But be warned—my inbox is crazy full, so the minute I wakeup in the morning, I’m going to start going all high-speed on their asses. Expect to be bombarded.”
“Got it,” I said, giving Abi a chin nod from my spot on the couch.
Roman sighed on the other end of the phone. “If we’re going to remain a two-man operation on this, and you know that’s the only way it works, we need to beontwenty-four-seven, Dex.”
Abi’s eyes narrowed and she was definitely focused on our conversation.
“I am aware,” I said, hitting the approve button at the bottom of the email. “Good night, Roman.”
“Later.”
I disconnected the call and said to Abi, “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No,” she said, looking so fucking cute with her oversize pajamas and messy hair that I had an urge to throw her over my shoulder and carry her back to her bed like she was a toddler who’d been woken by a bad dream. “I needed water.”
“Ah.”
She saw my plate on the coffee table and her eyebrows knit together, like she was surprised I was eating in the living room.
“It was a good sandwich—don’t judge,” I said.
She shook her head and said around a tiny smile, “I’m just shocked that you’re doing something so…common. I would’ve imagined you summoning a chef to serve you a sandwich in the middle of the night before I would’ve pictured crumbs all over your T-shirt.”
I looked down and, yep—crumbs all over the top of my black Celtics T-shirt.
“Maybe I’m not the douchebag you think I am,” I said, dusting off my chest.
“Let’s not go crazy,” she teased. “But I will say I’m impressed by your viewing choice. I lovePsych.”
“Great show,” I agreed.
“Were you actually still working a minute ago?” she asked. “In the middle of the night?”
Her tone told me she was either shocked or horrified. I said, “The middle of the night doesn’t technically start until after two.”
“Is that true?” she asked, and yawned.
“I think so. Go to bed, Abi.”
Her eyebrows went down. “You’re not the boss of me.”
The urge to pick her up kicked in a little stronger. “I know. May I rephrase?”
“Please do,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your water break with my phone call. Good night, Abi.”
She rolled her eyes and muttered, “Still feels bossy, but g’night.”
