“What are you doing?”

He tosses his shirt on a chair and then slips off his shoes. “We’re going to sleep.”

I glance at his bed. Then at him. “Right now?”

He nods and walks over to me. In one swift movement, he lifts my dress up and over my head, until I’m standing in the middle of his bedroom floor in my bra and panties. I cover myself, but he doesn’t even look twice. He pulls me toward the bed and lifts the covers for me to crawl in. As he’s walking over to his side of the bed he says, “It’s not like we haven’t slept together before without having sex. Piece of cake.”

I laugh. He reaches his dresser and plugs his phone in to a charger. I take a moment to skim his bedroom. This certainly isn’t the type of spare bedroom I’m used to. Three of my bedrooms could fit in here. There’s a couch against the other wall, a chair facing a television and a full office off the bedroom that looks complete with a floor-to-ceiling library. I’m still trying to see everything around me when the lamp goes off.

“Your sister is really rich,” I say as I feel him pull the covers over both of us. “What the hell does she do with the ten bucks an hour I pay her? Wipe her ass with it?”

He laughs and grabs my hand, sliding his fingers through mine. “She probably doesn’t even cash the checks,” he says. “Have you ever checked?”

I haven’t. Now I’m curious.

“Goodnight, Lily,” he says.

I can’t stop smiling, because this is kind of ridiculous. And so great.

“Goodnight, Ryle.”

• • •

I think I might be lost.

Everything is so white and so clean, it’s blinding. I shuffle through one of the living rooms and try to find my way to the kitchen. I have no idea where my dress ended up last night, so I pulled on one of Ryle’s shirts. It falls past my knees, and I wonder if he has to buy shirts that are too big for him just so they’ll fit his arms.

There are too many windows and way too much sun, so I’m forced to shield my eyes as I go in search of coffee.

I push through the kitchen doors and find a coffeemaker.

Thank you, Jesus.

I set it to brew and then go in search for a mug when the kitchen door opens behind me. I spin around and I’m relieved to see that Allysa isn’t always a perfect concoction of makeup and jewelry. Her hair is in a messy topknot and mascara is smeared down her cheeks. She points at the coffeemaker. “I’m gonna need me some of that,” she says. She pulls herself up on the island and then slouches forward.

“Can I ask you a question?” I say.

She barely has the energy to nod.

I wave my hand around the kitchen. “How did this happen? How in the hell did your entire house become spotless between the party last night and me waking up just now? Did you stay up and clean?”