Twenty Nine

When she woke, it was to find that it was dark and that Onyx was sitting on the sofa with her feet resting on his lap, watching the TV on a low volume. He must have sensed she had woken, because his eyes moved to hers.

“Hey, baby. Feel any better?”

She did, actually. The cramps had gone, and the edginess had eased. She nodded.

“Good. Just so you know, your juicer is now fixed, the kitchen tap is no longer leaking, and your dinner’s in the oven, waiting.”

Did he have to be so nice to her?

“I noticed the faulty boiler, too. Your landlord will need to take care of it. I don’t want you having cold showers.”

Ha. Her landlord didn’t address any problems. He’d say, “Oh, I’m starting to think I may have to sell the house, I can’t afford to keep repairing it,” which was, of course, an indirect threat—if she didn’t deal with the problems herself, she’d be out of a home very soon. “I’ll call him tomorrow,” she said cas