Page 77 of Property of Bob

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t keep a fucking sleep diary, Ramona,” I growled.

“Bob,” she whispered.

“I’m just trying to eat my dinner.”

“Okay.”

I frowned. “Okay, what?”

“You’re done.”

“With what?”

“Today.”

I stared at her.

She stood.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking you to bed.”

The entire table went silent.

Ramona froze.

Prime’s eyebrows shot up. Shay’s mouth dropped open. Cross slowly turned his head toward me.

I smiled.

Ramona closed her eyes. “That is not what I meant.”

“I’m okay with however you meant it,” I rasped.

Post laughed from the other end of the table.

Ramona pointed at all of them. “I mean, I’m taking him to his room because he’s exhausted.”

“Sure,” Prime drawled.

“You taking me to bed sounds good.” That came out rougher than everything else I’d said.

Ramona looked at me, then she moved behind my chair and grabbed the handles. “Let’s go.”

“I can push myself.”

“Great.” She didn’t let go.

I reached for the wheels, but she started pushing. “Ramona.”

“No talking,” she snapped.

I twisted enough to look back at her.

“Eyes forward,” she ordered.