Page 45 of It's a Date (Again)

“Have a good set,” I say.

Robbie and Debbie say their goodbyes. Maya waves and trots down the stairs. The front door opens and closes. We all exchange glances while Debbie slowly gets out of her chair.

“My shows are starting soon, so I better get going.”

“What shows?” I glance up at her. She straightens the chair, fluffs the pillows, and refolds a throw blanket, draping it over the back.

Debbie turns to face me. “Mostly reality TV. Tonight, it’sBachelor in ParadiseandBelow Deck.”

“I thought you’d watch something more serious, like a drama or a legal series.”

Debbie flicks her wrists. “Nah. I spent my whole life being serious. Now I just want to be entertained with a glass of wine in one hand and a carb in my other.”

Robbie and I chuckle.

“You two holler if you need anything,” Debbie calls out as she takes it slow down the set of steps.

It’s a couple of hours later when Robbie and I are getting ready to go to bed.

“What are you doing?” he asks. He’s dressed in a white T-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants. The handle of a brown ditty bag hangs from his pointer finger.

I tuck part of a fresh sheet under the couch cushions and set out a blanket and pillows. “Making my bed,” I say.

Robbie delivers a stern look and walks over to his duffel bag, dropping his stuff into it. “You’re not sleeping on the couch, Peyton.”

“Yes, I am.” I throw my hands on my hips so he knows I’m serious and won’t be backing down. “You’re too tall for this couch. I saw you this morning. Your legs extended, like, a foot past the armrest.”

“Yeah, so?”

“It’s not comfortable for you. I fit fine, so you can have my bed.”

It’s the least I can do. He’s done so much for me, and I want him to be comfortable not sleeping like a folded-up pretzel every night.

“I am not taking your bed and having you sleep on the couch.” He raises his chin. “You are supposed to be healing.”

“And I’m not having you sleep on the couch.” I raise my chin to match his.

He sighs and blows out his cheeks, running a hand through his dark brown hair. “Guess I’m not sleeping then.”

“Don’t be dumb, Robbie.” I point toward the hallway. “You’re sleeping in my bed.”

“Nope. Not gonna happen.”

I stare back at him but he doesn’t budge. Grabbing the pillows from the couch, I let out a groan and stomp down the hallway.

“What are you doing, Peyton?” Robbie calls out as he follows me.

I turn on the bedroom light, toss the pillows on the bed, and start assembling a wall of them right in the center, from the headboard all the way to the foot of the bed.

“Really?” he asks.

“Really,” I say, briefly glancing over at him with squinty eyes. I finish assembling our new sleeping arrangements and turn to face Robbie. “I’ve constructed a Great Wall of pillows,” I say, gesturing to my creation.

“I can see that.” He chuckles.

“You’ll sleep on one side, and I’ll sleep on the other. That way, we’ll both be comfortable and well rested.”

“This is unnecessary,” he says, folding his arms across his chest.

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