Maryanne demanded when I got back to our room. “I thought you got lost on the way downstairs, or worse, the pizza delivery guy kidnapped you to make you his sex slave.” Maryanne’s face went pale. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t funny.” I laughed. “Relax. You don’t have to handle me with kid gloves.” She looked relieved. “So what was the delay? And are you alright? Your face is really flushed!” “I’m fine,” I assured her. “I ran into someone from the hospital.” “Huh?” Maryanne looked confused. She tried to pour another glass of wine, then realized the bottle was empty, and dissolved into a fit of giggles. “One sec.” She headed to the kitchen to open the second bottle. “Thanks to Dougie for getting us two,” she called out gleefully. “I’m starving,” Maryanne announced when she returned. “I put in our favorite movie while I was waiting.” “Dirty Dancing,” we said in unison. “Because what’s pizza without a little Patrick Swayze?” I laughed.
