Page 190 of Lorenzo

Then I stayed over again.

Then I started keeping a toothbrush in the bathroom because carrying one back and forth was stupid.

I have clothes upstairs too.

Only a few things.

Because, again, carrying them back and forth was stupid.

There is shampoo in his shower that he definitely does not use.

My face wash sits beside his sink.

I have a preferred coffee cup in the morning, and his staff apparently know my preferred drinks and snacks.

And my dog has a bed. Two, actually, because there's one in his bedroom, now that I think about it.

I glance toward the other room.

Mocha is still asleep, quite comfortably.

I look back down at my plate.

This has all happened without me deciding it was happening.

That is what irritates me.

Maybe.

I am still not entirely sure.

Lorenzo reaches for the bread.

“You are very quiet.”

“I’m eating.”

“You usually manage both.”

“I’m talented.”

“That you are.”

I point my fork at him. “Don't start.”

His eyebrows rise. “Start what?”

“I don't know.”

“All right.”

And then he keeps eating.

Which is somehow irritating too.

I take another bite of chicken.

I came here to discuss the case.