For a few seconds, as moonlight from the window flooded the bed, she remained perfectly quiet with her eyes squeezed shut. What would Darin’s next step be? She felt nothing. Opened her eyes. Saw no one. “Darin?” No answer. “Darin?” Was that a sound in the distance? A door? Sitting up too fast, Barbie’s head whirled with leftover wine-induced vertigo. Tossing her legs over the side of the bed anyway, she stood by holding the bedside table. She’d had much too much to drink. “Darin? You there?” No sound. Odd. Barbie padded into the hallway, then to the living room, her head still running in spin cycle. But there was no Darin in the living room. No Darin in the bathroom, either. Did this mean there would be no tucking? Was this a big gyp? Where the heck had Darin gone?
