By Friday, she is strong enough to stand when I return from a five-mile swim. Diffused sunlight streams in from the archway out to my terrace, painting her in golden light. She’s in my bed still, but not in the way I would like her to be. I watch her bare feet touch down on the sandstone floor, holding my arm as she wobbles. I raise a suggestive eyebrow at her as her fingers tighten on my bicep. “Finding any excuse to touch me?”
