asked R.J. “You don’t like it?” Casey stood just inside the door to his apartment, looking it over with pursed lips. “It’s fine,” she said. “For you.” “Yeah, well, I couldn’t get the decorators here this late in the day. Come on. You take the bedroom, I’ll bunk out here on the couch.” She threw down an armload of shopping bags. They had stopped several times for her to get a few essentials, things she needed to replace the ruined wardrobe in her apartment. “I’ll take the couch,” she said. “Oh, Christ,” said R.J. “Here we go again.” She put both hands on her hips. “I’m not a delicate blushing flower, R.J. I’m a grown-up human being.” “A grown-up human being who’s stubborn as two mules.” “Listen,” she said. “This is your place—” “No argument there.” “So why in the hell should you sleep on the couch in your own place?” “I like the couch,” he said. “The couch is very comfortable.” “Good. Then I’ll sleep very well on it.”
