17

RICHARD

I WOKE UP, CONFUSED. AFTER a moment, I realized I was on the sofa. I sat up, grimacing, holding my aching head. I deserved it, but it still sucked. Cautiously, I raised my eyes, surprised to see a bottle of water and Tylenol on the table in front of me. Reaching for it, I swallowed two pills and drained the bottle. As I stood up, the blanket draped across my torso fell to the floor. I bent to pick it up, when realization dawned in my sluggish brain.

After Katharine had stormed away, I had tossed back more scotch, her words on a constant loop in my head. At some point, I must have passed out, and she had obviously come and covered me up, leaving the drugs and water, knowing I’d be suffering when I awoke.

Despite being even a bigger prick to her than usual, she still looked after me. My legs were shaking as I sat down, recalling the words she had flung at me last night—why she had agreed to help me. Why she scrimped and saved

—to look after a woman who took her in and gave her a