We don't win all the time

Panicked, she threw the knitted bedspread over the chair and closed the door behind her. Then she darted up to the front room and stopped right in front of him. "Greet."

He looked immediately suspicious. A lock of blond hair fell on his forehead and his eyes narrowed, as if he couldn't believe she could be so kind. Guilt writhed inside her, but she ignored it.

"Greet". He looked around the house and she held her breath. "What's up?"

"Nothing. I'm going to cook dinner. Unless you're tired and want to go to bed right now."

One of his eyebrows shot up at her hopeful tone. "It's already six o'clock."

"Yes. So, I suppose you have a lot of work to do, don't you? I'll bring you food upstairs to the office if you want."

Now, he looked completely exasperated. "I've worked enough for today. Now I just want to relax with a glass of wine and watch the football game."

"Is there a Mets team playing?"

"Don't know. They're not eligible to play in the playoffs anyway. But the Yanks still have a chance