Chapter Sixteen
Anthony awoke to the sound of singing. He thought, briefly, that maybe he’d finally died and gone to heaven, but why would he of all people have been allowed into heaven? Opening his eyes, he looked around the room, registered the clutter, and remembered that he was in Thea’s bed.
And the person singing was none other than Thea herself.
He rolled onto his side, watching her at her desk in the corner. She was wrapped in a blanket as her pencil or pen or whatever it was she was using skipped across the page. She was drawing at—he glanced at his watch—five thirty in the morning. Yawning, he considered going back to sleep, but then the blanket slipped down to reveal Thea’s shoulder. A lovely sight for so early in the morning.
He’d never acted this rashly in his life, drivin
