When he reminds me the two hours are up, we both reluctantly stand up, and he hands me another paperback. “I’m giving you a break this week. It’s still considered a gothic novel, but I thought you’d appreciate that there is some romance in this one.” I flip the floppy book over and read the title aloud, “Wuthering Heights?” “Have you read it?” “No, but I don’t know why. It sounds very up my alley.” His jaw ticks. “I thought so, too.”
