Chapter 11: Amendment

Benedict woke at noon, took one look at me in his bed, and got up and stood by the window with his back to me.

"I took advantage of a situation," he said.

I sat up with the sheet around me.

"Good morning to you too."

"You were frightened. I was ill. Clause seven was struck under duress."

"By me."

"That's what I mean."

"Benedict."

"I'm sorry," he said, to the glass. "I'll have Birdie move your things to a different floor, and I will..."

"Turn around."

He did.

He looked like a man bracing for a verdict, with his shirt buttoned wrong and his jaw tight.

My heart did something strange and unprofessional.

"Do you have a laptop?" I asked.

"In the study."

"Printer?"

"Cassia..."

"I'm not done editing this contract," I said. "Get me a printer."

He got me a printer.

Birdie brought coffee, took one look at the two of us, and left without a word, humming.

At the end of twenty minutes, I had a single page on the bed.

AMENDMENT ONE, it said at the top, in bold.

He read it standing up, like a judge.

One, Clause seven is struck, by mutual initial.

Two, either Party may ask the other to stay the night.

Either Party may say no, and the answer is final.

Three, neither Party shall apologize for anything that happened with a mouth.

Four, breakfast on weekdays.

"Four is unusual," he said.

"You eat breakfast?"

"I drink coffee."

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