Better not to have her laugh with me. Better not to have been looking into her eyes while she reminded me of who she was—pissing me off so much, I ended up reminding her who she’d been to me. Better not to have touched her hand, even with that damn phone between us. Because then I was thinking about how soft her skin was… everywhere. I was thinking about what it was like having her laughing, squirming, over my shoulder as I carried her like a caveman down the hall in that hotel.
