"Aren't you exhausted?" Huxley asks around his own yawn.
I widen my eyes, not having to fake being awake this morning. "Nope. You're getting old," I quip, grabbing the purse I left over the back of the kitchen chair last night.
Or, well, this morning since we didn't get home until two. I'm not required to stay until the club closes since most of the action usually winds down between midnight and one. But last night's group was rough and with only one bouncer at the door after midnight I didn't want to leave them shorthanded. It's a lot easier to see and stop a fight before it even starts with my vantage point mixed in the crowd.
Plus, last night was one of my best nights of sleep ever. The first few nights Huxley was here, I lay beside him in bed tossing and turning, unable to get any s
