“Three days.” He wiggled his fingers to punctuate his point. “It’s been three days since you left me asleep on my sofa without so much as a blanket thrown over me. And I haven’t heard a peep from you.” “First of all,” I said, “that thing is a cloud, not a sofa. Nothing has the right to be that comfortable. And secondly, it’s been two days.” “So you’ve been counting,” he said, his sea blue eyes bright with victory. “I see you’re still incorrigible,” I quipped, unable to keep the zing from my tone.
