"Bye, Fede."
"What was *that*?" Linda had her neck craned around to watch him.
He slipped into his cover story with a conscious effort. "I'm a user-experience consultant. My coworkers are all paranoid about a deadline."
She rolled her eyes. "Not another one. God. Look, we go out for dinner, don't say a word about the kerb design or the waiter or the menu or the presentation, OK? OK? I'm serious."
Art solemnly crossed his heart. "Who else do you know in the biz?"
"My ex. He wouldn't or couldn't shut up about how much everything sucked. He was right, but so what? I wanted to enjoy it, suckitude and all."
"OK, I promise. We're going out for dinner, then?"
"The minute I can walk, you're taking me out for as much flesh and entrails as I can eat."
"It's a deal."
And then they both slept again.