I soak up the warmth, let it loosen my tight muscles.
The water goes warm, then lukewarm, and I finally turn it off. Towel mostly dry, use my magic wand to brush and dry my hair at the same time: my Dyson hairdryer. God, that thing is amazing. My crazy thick hair would normally still be wet hours and hours after the shower, but that thing makes it so I can brush it and get it dry enough to go to bed without my hair being soaking wet.
I don’t bother with clothes. Just fall naked into bed, climb under the covers. Bedside table alarm clock: 1:36 a.m. My shift starts at seven.
One more thing I have to do before I can sleep.
I call Adrian. It rings exactly twice, and then he answers. “Hi, baby.” His voice is muzzy, thick and slow with sleep. “Doing okay?”
“Long. Hard. We lost someone.”
“Shit.” A sad sigh. “Work again in the morning, yeah?” He somehow convinced Lacey in scheduling to email him my schedule every week. He probably gave her a signed book or three.
“Yeah. Seven.”
“You could’ve called me on the way in.”
“I have to call you at night. I need to hear your voice so I can sleep.”
“I know.”
“What’d you do today?” I ask.
“Toured the site of the Battle of Yorktown.” He’s working on a Revolutionary War piece about a Redcoat who falls in love with the widow of a rebel…a man he killed. It’s in the developmental stages, he says.
“Get some good material?”
“Eh. I think Yorktown is later than I’m planning on setting the bulk of the story. I might hit Lexington and Concord next.”
“When will you be home?”
“Thursday, maybe Friday.”
“I miss you.”
He sighs, heavily. “I love you, Nadia. So much.”
“I know,” I say, smiling to myself.
“Don’t you ‘I know’ me, woman.” A snort. “I need some sugar.”
I reach out, twist on the bedside lamp. Pull the phone away from my ear, switch to FaceTime. The screen resolves into a grainy image of Adrian, covered to his chest with a hotel comforter, lying down, smiling up the phone. I flick the blankets off; pan the camera down to show him my naked body. “How’s that for some sugar?” I murmur.
He groans a laugh. “Aww hell, Nadia.” A sigh. “So beautiful. Miss you so much.”
“Get home and you won’t have to miss me, because you’ll have me.” I turn the phone so it’s on my face. “In fact, come home early, and I’ll even take the day off work and keep you in bed with me.”
“Make it two days, and I’ll be home by noon Thursday.”
I laugh. “Are you bartering with me, Adrian Bell?”
“Sure am.”
I laugh. “Fine. I’ll get all day Thursday and Friday off, if you’re home Thursday by noon.”
“You have a deal, my darling.” He passes a hand through his hair, mussing the already messy blond locks. “But be warned, I won’t let you leave the bed until at least midnight. I might even handcuff you to it.”
I wriggle, smirking at him. “Oooh, threaten me with a good time, why don’t you.”
He scrubs his hair again, and I see a Band-Aid on his forearm, on the inside, near the crease of his elbow.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“What’s what?”
“The Band-Aid. Did you get hurt?”
“Oh, that. Uh, yeah, a branch caught me. No big deal.”
“Hmmm. But it was bad enough you needed a Band-Aid?”
He typically refuses to use them. Usually he just rinses cuts out with soap and water and then super-glues over them. Which, as an ICU nurse, drives me a little nuts. So a Band-Aid is weird.
“Oh, well. My tour guide insisted. She was such an earnest, sweet little thing that I couldn’t say no. She didn’t know a thing about Revolutionary War history, bless her heart, but she was trying.”
“Sweet little thing, huh?” I tease, my voice drily sarcastic.
“Oh stop. She was all of sixteen and it was her first job, and I guarantee you she got it because her mom worked in the gift shop or something.” He yawns, and then I do.
“You gave me your yawn, asshole.” I laugh.
“You work another double tomorrow?”
“Alan is insisting I take the afternoon off. So just the morning shift.”
“Good man. I’ll have to send him a bottle of whiskey or something.”
“Alan doesn’t drink. Send him some fancy tea instead.”
“Oh, the irony,” he laughs. “Buying tea as a gift while in Boston researching the Revolutionary War.”
I want to laugh, but I’m having trouble keeping my eyes open. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“I love you.” Pause. “Nadia?”
“Love you,