‘But you could–,’ Miranda began, then stopped and glared at him, ‘I really wish you wouldn’t call them that.’ Grey smiled around his cigar...tte and coughed. ‘There!’ Miranda pointed out, ‘you’re coughing up blood, you should not be smoking.’ ‘Tell you what then, dear, I’ll make a deal with you: I’ll smoke, and if my lungs collapse and I die, I’ll admit that you were right.’ Miranda opened her mouth to speak then her phone chimed. ‘Sam’s here,’ Miranda told him, ‘Don’t go anywhere.’ Grey smirked. She pops the dishwasher open and starts putting the dirty dishes inside. She isn’t going to argue about it. Danny leans against the counter and runs a hand over his face as he watches her load the washer, her sweater sleeves bunched up at her elbows and short shorts bearing her gorgeous legs to him. On a normal night, he would’ve just jumped her then and there. Tonight, though, he is too pissed off with work to feel like a good fuck.“We can go to the store tomorrow,” Meg suggests, trying to. More

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