Of course Bruce needed to check on her, to see how the bath was going. He walked in, still in his robe, and placed another bottle of sparkling water next to the tub. “How ya doing?” he asked.

“Much better,” she said. The bubbles hid most of her nakedness but not all of it. He took a long approving look and smiled. “Need anything?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“I’m busy in the kitchen. Take your time.” And he was gone.

9.

She soaked for an hour, then got out and dried off. She found a matching bathrobe hanging on the door and put it on. In a drawer she found a stack of new toothbrushes. She opened one, brushed her teeth, and felt much better. She picked up her lingerie and found her purse next to her shorts and blouse. She removed her iPad, propped up the pillows, got in the bed, made her nest, and returned to her cloud.

She was reading when she heard noises at the door. Bruce walked in with a breakfast tray, which he placed snugly at her side. “Bacon, scrambled eggs, muffins with jam, strong coffee, and, for good measure, a mimosa.”

“I’m not sure I need more booze at this point,” she said. The food looked and smelled delicious.

“The hair of the dog. It’s good for you.” He disappeared for a second and returned with a tray for himself. When he was situated next to her, their trays side by side, in matching bathrobes, he picked up his flute and said, “Cheers.” They took a sip and began eating.

“So this is the infamous Writer’s Room,” she said.

“You’ve heard of it?”

“The ruin of many a poor girl.”

“All of them quite willing.”

“So it’s true. You get the girls and Noelle gets the boys?”

“True. Who told you about it?”

“Since when do writers keep secrets?”

Bruce laughed and shoved a strip of bacon in his mouth. After two sips of her mimosa, the buzz was back as the remnants of last night’s rum mixed with the fresh champagne. Fortunately, the long bath had settled her stomach and the food was delicious. She nodded at a long curved wall with bookshelves from floor to ceiling and asked, “So what are those? More first editions?”

“A mix, nothing of any real value. Odds and ends.”

“It’s a beautiful room, obviously put together by Noelle.”

“Let’s forget about her for the time being. She’s probably having a late lunch with Jean-Luc.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“Not in the least. Come on, Mercer, we’ve had this conversation.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes, both ignoring the coffee but not the mimosas. Under the covers, he began gently rubbing her thigh.

She said, “I can’t remember the last time I had sex with a hangover.”

“Oh, I do it all the time. It’s the best cure, actually.”

“I guess you should know.”

He wiggled out of bed and set his tray on the floor. “Finish your drink,” he said, and she did. He lifted her tray and set it aside, then he took off his bathrobe and flung it across the end of the bed. He helped her out of hers, and as soon as they were wonderfully naked they burrowed deep under the covers.