I eyeballed him as he reached for the paper towel roll someone had left in the center of the island. He ripped off one, let his hand hover there for a moment and then ripped another one. Just as I started to cut into my lasagna, something white dropped onto my lap. It was one of the paper towels. “I wasn’t sure if you could reach them,” he whispered, being a smart-ass. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, my hands still above my plate of food. “You know, because you’re short.”
