“I have an idea,” I murmur into her red locks. “We’ve got this open bottle of Pol Roger. I say we order Chinese takeout and watch dumb movies while we finish it.” “How dumb are you willing to go?” “Maybe Adam Sandler?” She snorts. “Try harder, buddy. We’re talking mid-nineties Jim Carrey.” I laugh deeply as I kiss her head. “We have a deal.”
