Page 108 of Joker

There are about a thousand answers to that and none of them feel survivable out loud.

So naturally, I go with the most useless one. “Big.”

That makes the corner of his mouth twitch. Not a smile. Close enough to count.

“Yeah,” he says. “It was.”

I laugh before I mean to. Just a short, startled little sound. The kind that escapes when something is too true to defend against. And somehow that breaks the tension more than anything else could have.

He pushes himself up then, the sheet slipping low across his hips, and I very deliberately keep my eyes on his face because I’m trying to have a functional morning and not immediately combust. Not that it helps much.

He notices. His mouth tilts a little more this time. “Morning, angel.”

That should not do what it does to me. And yet. My entire body remembers itself all over again.

I clear my throat. “You seem entirely too calm for this.”

He shrugs one shoulder. “Why?”

“Because I’m in your bed.”

“Yeah.”

I stare at him.

He stares right back. Then he adds, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “That’s where I left you.”

I actually choke on a laugh this time.

He looks deeply pleased with himself.

Which is annoying. And somehow weirdly helpful. Because there’s no awkwardness in him. No weird distance. No masculine posturing or emotional retreat or sudden coolness because daylight hit and now everything has to be handled differently.

He’s just…him.

Still rough. Still steady. Still looking at me like last night didn’t scare him even a little.

That’s dangerous.

He swings his legs off the bed and stands, grabbing a pair of sweats from the chair near the wall and tugging them on without making a production out of it.

Then he glances toward the door. “You want coffee?”

I blink. “What?”

He looks back at me like I’m the one being strange. “Coffee.”

“You’re asking me that right now?”

“Seems useful.”

I don’t know what I expected.

A conversation. A reckoning. A little more existential crisis and a little less domestic competence.

Apparently that’s on me.

“Uh,” I say brilliantly. “Yes?”