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'We can turn it back on if she wakes up.' |
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'Can't we at least rewind and watch you get wiped out again?' |
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Smiling, she shook her head and settled back against the sofa. Tom's arm was trapped for a moment. Then it worked its way up. As he curled his hand over her shoulder, she swung her legs onto the cushion and leaned against his side. She patted his thigh. 'Why do you want to watch me on the tube when the real McCoy's right here?' |
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'That way, I get you in stereo.' |
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The commercial ended, and a Clint Eastwood movie came on. One of those old spaghetti westerns. Clint looked gritty and cool, squinting as he lit the stub of a thin cigar. |
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'Fistful of Dollars,' Tom said. 'It's a great one.' |
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'How many times have you seen it?' |
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'Who knows? I never counted.' |
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'Kara does,' Denise said. 'She counts. She's seen Willy Wonka eighty-nine times, or something.' |
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'Mine, too.' Face relaxed in sleep, Kara looked so peaceful. Like an infant. As if the world's troubles had never touched her. 'God, she's so cute.' |
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'She's really neat. I usually can't stand the little ankle-biters, but she's something else.' |
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'I hope I have a kid just like her someday.' |
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'That wouldn't be so bad, huh?' |
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'It's a spooky world, thought.' |
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'Yeah,' Tom said. 'I've noticed. Sometimes, I think I shouldn't ever have any kids. Because of that, |
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