"Christopher Moore - Dirty Job" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moore Christopher)

don’t go home and get some sleep right now, I swear I’ll buzz the nurse and have her throw you out.”

She sounded stern, but she was smiling. Charlie liked looking at her smile, always had; it felt like
approval and permission at the same time. Permission to be Charlie Asher.

“Okay, I’ll go.” He reached to feel her forehead. “Do you have a fever? You look tired.”

“I just gave birth, you squirrel!”

“I’m just concerned about you.” He was not a squirrel. She was blaming him for Sophie’s tail, that’s
why she’d said squirrel, and not doofus like everyone else.

“Sweetie, go. Now. So I can get some rest.”

Charlie fluffed her pillows, checked her water pitcher, tucked in the blankets, kissed her forehead,
kissed the baby’s head, fluffed the baby, then started to rearrange the flowers that his mother had sent,
moving the big stargazer lily in the front, accenting it with a spray of baby’s breath—

“Charlie!”
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“I’m going. Jeez.” He checked the room, one last time, then backed toward the door.

“Can I bring you anything from home?”

“I’ll be fine. The ready kit you packed covered everything, I think. In fact, I may not even need the fire
extinguisher.”

“Better to have it and not need it, than to need it—”

“Go! I’ll get some rest, the doctor will check Sophie out, and we’ll take her home in the morning.”

“That seems soon.”

“It’s standard.”

“Should I bring more propane for the camp stove?”

“We’ll try to make it last.”

“But—”

Rachel held up the buzzer, as if her demands were not met, the consequences could be dire. “Love
you,” she said.

“Love you, too,” Charlie said. “Both of you.”