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"What's the question, Emmett?" I hold my hand out for the drawing.
He stares dumbly, shaking those dimples side to side. "You're cured! No more Curse of Lizzie Borden sucking out your mojo, draining you of your manhood, sapping—"
"For Christ's sake, Emmett. Ask Edward your question already," Rose prods.
"Sure, baby. Sorry, sorry."
"I asked you not to call me that at work," she says through gritted teeth.
"Sorry, boss," Emmett says, shoving Jasper's spreadsheets aside and rolling out the drawing along the smooth mahogany top. I stand, focusing on the spot where he's pointing his pencil tip.