And then realised I'd left the rest of the clothes in the bedroom. No big deal. There was a towel — a towel far too small for me.
Clutching the edges of the towel at my hip like a virgin in a locker room, I gently creaked the bathroom door open and stepped out.
Laurie lay in the middle of the bed, his curls fanned out on the pillow like a Renaissance angel's.
The cup sat empty on the nightstand, and he'd tucked himself into both blankets just like I'd told him to. His eyes peeked at me over the top edge of the quilts.
Awkwardly, I turned my back, dropped the towel, and got the other sweatpants and the t-shirt out of the wardrobe and onto me as quickly as I could.
And then there was nothing left but to get in bed.
I slid in on the side nearest the door, putting myself between Laurie and everything out there.
I expected him to scoot over to make room for me, but he didn't move a muscle, just stared up at me with those blue eyes, solemn and still.
