About forty-five minutes later, Kent helps me to my feet. My legs are still shaky, but Kent stands close by as I brush my teeth and gargle mouthwash.
“I don’t know about all this,” I murmurs, glancing up at him and feeling awkward as I dab at my mouth with a clean hand towel.
“What do you mean?” he asks, peering down at me.
“This new intimacy,” I say, wrinkling m nose a little as I look up at him. “Kent, our entire relationship – or whatever it is –“
“Relationship,” he says instantly, with a sharp nod.
“Fine,” I say, waving a hand and brushing it off. “You’ve kept me at arm’s length. The bodily realities of our lives have been mysteries – I’ve never even seen you shower. And now we’re living in close quarters, and you’re watching me barf? Standing over me as I brush my teeth?”
“What?
