“Yeah. Okay. But put this on.” I hand her the robe hanging on the bathroom door. She pulls it on and ties it around her waist. With her gloriously naked body no longer on display, I can focus.

She pulls back the covers and slides in, patting the space beside her, but a picture frame on the bedside table draws my attention.

It’s a family picture. I immediately pick out Chloe. She’s the oldest child, yet her petite frame places her toward the front of the picture.

“You’ve told me how loud and busy your childhood was. What’s it like having that many siblings?” I ask, holding the picture up so she can see. “Are you close with everyone?”

Chloe leans back into her pillow. “Chaotic.” She laughs. “But seriously, you’re never lonely. There was always someone to play with growing up. As a teenager that became annoying because there was always someone around. It was hard to get alone time. I shared a bedroom with my sister, Lila. The boys shared and then Penelope, the baby, got her own room.”

I’m realizing that while I view Chloe’s tiny apartment as inadequate, she sees it as a milestone. Her own space. I feel like a jerk for being critical of it, but in my defense, there were repairs that needed to happen.

“Lila and I are three years apart, which at times felt much further, but we’ve been close since high school. Levi and Hudson are five years younger and Penelope is seven years younger. She just graduated from high school.

“The downside was we didn’t travel much or take vacations. That’s what books were for. Escapism in its cheapest form.” She slides her hand under her head. “I’m sure you traveled a lot as a kid.”

“My dad worked all the time, but my mother took me places. Paris, London, Venice. There’s a photo of me in my mother’s office when I was three or four eating gelato outside the Colosseum.”

“You do like ice cream! I knew it!”

“I was four and it was gelato.”

She smiles. “That’s definitely on my bucket list.”

“Gelato?”

“No. Traveling out of the country. A stamp in my passport. I have one. I got it when I turned eighteen thinking I was an adult and I was going to see the world. I haven’t made it that far.”

“You moved to New York. That’s impressive.”

“Yeah. I guess it is. I love being here. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”

We’re quiet for a moment, my hand slowly tracing up and down her back. It’s impossible to be near her and not touch her.

“What was your dad like?” she asks.

“He was older when he and my mother married and then she had me later in life. If he were alive, he’d be eighty-six.”