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“W-what are you doing?”You sigh. “I’m getting out of here,” you mutter, stuffing a wad of socks into the overfull bag.Her feet pound against the hardwood as she rushes the closet. “You’re…you’re LEAVING?”“What I said,” you say, glancing at her as you flip off the light. Your eyes meet briefly as you push past her and enter the bathroom.“You’re…you’re coming back, right?” she asks, following you. “Like, you’re not LEAVING, leaving?”You open the medicine cabinet. Toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant…“RIGHT?” she asks, panicked.You slam the mirrored door shut and glare at her. “I don’t know. But I’m not staying HERE while I figure that out.” She leans in, and then her hands reach for you, tug at your shirt, your hair. You sweep her arm away with your own and return to the bedroom. Where the hell are your keys…?“Baby…” Her voice is quiet and gentle. Then her hand finds the middle of your back. In that moment, all is her touch—a familiar, loving touch that’s only hers. It’s the kind of. Caroline and Jennifer hadn’t seen each other in a couple of days, so they hugged and talked until the delivery arrived.After arrival, Caroline directed the men, like a conductor leading an orchestra, getting everything in its place in less than 40 minutes. The girls and I brought in all of the computers and paraphernalia, which had been in the back of the car, covered and waiting for their final destination.All this office needed was the outside signs installed, and phones... “Caroline, honey?”“Yes, Rich?”“Telephones — did we get, or do we need a telephone system for this place?”“Rich, you’d asked me to include a telephone system, when you gave me the list of computer equipment to buy, but everybody has a cell phone, our network in the office is broadband based, which includes our own WiFi hotspot, for no additional charge.”“So, instead of faxing documents, we can scan and send as an email, and follow up using a messenger service or a commercial account with either FedEx or UPS. We.
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