The next morning, before seven, Summer Thorne was startled awake by the movement of the person beside her.
She opened her eyes to check the time, then squinted at the man who had just sat up. Her voice was still clouded with sleep. "So early?"
They had been up so late, it was a wonder he could get up this early. Summer was genuinely impressed.
"I have a morning tea appointment," Timothy York replied simply. "You go back to sleep."
"Oh." Summer didn't argue. She rolled over, closed her eyes, and was about to drift off again.
By the time Timothy had finished washing up and returned to the bedroom to grab his clothes, Summer's eyes suddenly flew open, and she looked at him.
"It's Saturday. You can't come over tonight," Summer said, as if jolted fully awake. She delivered this crucial piece of information with extreme solemnity.
Timothy glanced at her, then suddenly turned and walked around to her side of the bed.
