His hand absently stroked my hair, his chest rose and fell rhythmically under my cheek, my arm was draped across his stomach. I didn't remember ever feeling this comfy. Then the movie ended."Ready for bed, sweetheart?"I shook my head, grabbed on tighter, and put on my most childish voice. "Nu-uh."He laughed. "Come on, honey. You have school tomorrow."Yessssssss. He'd just given me the perfect opening to start up my routine again. I let my arm drop away from him, put on my sad face again, and sat up. "Oh... yeah..."His eyes flashed with the realization that he'd just reminded me of the very thing this movie night was designed to distract me from. I could almost see him thinking "Shit. Smooth move, dickhead." It was hard not to grin as I sulkily threw back the covers and slumped my shoulders, getting up as if to head to bed. I stood there for a moment, appearing to think, then slid gently into his lap and put my arms around him, burying my face in the side of his neck, breathing his. Odd though. It could be something else. If he'd forgotten something vital, he'd better make up for it in other ways. He vacuumed the house, cleaned the kitchen, made the beds, and did all the laundry he could find. That got him to two-thirty with no demand for cash appearing.What else could he do? Supper; there was time to make something she would recognise as especially for Jill. He settled for her favourite beef chili with a flatbread, followed by Pavlova.The main course was easy, there was meat in the freezer, they had fresh tomatoes and plenty of beans. Making the meringue took patience and care, but he always enjoyed the process — beating the egg white until it was so stiff he could turn the bowl upside down and it didn't fall out. There was a perverse delight in doing that. The memory of scaring his mother when he first learned the trick made it even more of a treat.After the meringue went in the oven on low heat, his resolution cracked and he tried to phone Jill. He couldn't.
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