“How’s your head?”
“My head?” Her hand lifted to the bandage on her forehead. “It’s fine. I don’t even remember it’s there most of the time.”
“That’s good.” Lifting his mug, he said, “Lupita won’t start breakfast for another hour or so, but there’s coffee in the kitchen, if you’re interested.”
“Maybe later,” she told him, gesturing at a chair near his. He waved a hand and shrugged to let her know that she could sit anywhere she liked. She sank down, rubbing her hands over her thighs and knees. “Your sisters are wonderful.”
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