She looked around, intrigued. It had obviously been redecorated since PJ had lived in it. The walls were a freshly painted pale sage green. But the bookcase still had some books that the young PJ Antonides would have read, and the hardwood floors showed evidence of being used for more than walking.
“Used to have bunkbeds, too,” he told her. There was a double-size bed in the room now, with a taupe-colored duvet and heaps of inviting pillows. “I had the top one. Always wanted to be on top. Luke was stuck with the bottom.”
She could imagine him in here, her mind’s eye seeing the boy on the surfboard that Martha had painted. She wondered about the dreams he had dreamed as a child. He needn’t have dreamed ones like hers. They’d been his reality.
Then she realized he was just standing there looking at her. “What?” she said.
He shook his head, smiling, too. “Nothing.” But still he made no move to go.
“Where are you going to be?” she asked him.
He blinked. “What?”
She shrugged. “I just wondered where you were sleeping? Which room?”
“This one,” he said. “I’m sleeping in here. With you.”
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