Rest

Charlie’s bed was large and plush, the sort of mattress you could sink into and never be found again if you tried hard enough. The furniture was opulent—much like the dining room table—and Meg wondered at how such a humble person could sleep surrounded by such finery. Surely, he hadn’t picked this décor out himself either.

They were both fully dressed, the only parts currently touching were her hand and his forearm, though she would admit there had been some other contact earlier before he fell asleep. Carrie was seated on a settee just outside of the door, which was open, and she stood every once in a while and poked her head in, though Meg was well aware by her crooked grin they’d picked a chaperone more partial to their side than Mrs. Ashton’s. Nevertheless, when Jonathan arrived home from work, if he knew what they were up to, they’d both be scolded unmercifully if they had no chaperone whatsoever.

Charlie had been a