Decisions, decisions

My eyes drift open; it’s dark outside. Abby and I haven’t moved since we fell asleep. It feels really good to wake up with a woman in my arms. That first morning with Scarlett, I was completely disoriented, but over the course of the week, my brain got used to having her there. It’s made it harder to sleep alone again, but it means I can wake up holding Abby without any confusion. I raise my head to check the clock—even after six years, I still have both nightstands and both clocks—and realize I’ve slept a hair over two hours. She came by fairly early in the evening, so it’s still earlier than I would usually go to bed for the night. The nap means I won’t get much sleep tonight . . . but then, having Abby here would probably mean much the same thing in any case, so it all works out.

The arm Abby has been using for a pillow is numb, and I feel all sticky, so I decide to get up and get a shower. I extricate myself carefully so as not to jerk her awake and slowly roll myself over and upright. I get myself a clean towel—it was only this morning that I finally got around to tossing the previous one, the one I used while Scarlett was here, in the laundry—and one for Abby as well, and go quietly into the washroom for a quick shower.

When I come out, Abby’s still asleep. I start toward the bed to cuddle up with her again, and then remember I have a load in the wash that needs to go in the dryer. I know I need to take care of that, but the pull of naked Abby in my bed is strong.